Chapter 13: Diamond Guy
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"You talk too damn much," Eddie Mars said. He bared his teeth and whistled twice sharply. A car door slammed outside and running steps came through the hedge. Mars flicked the laser out again and pointed it at my chest. "Open the door." The knob rattled and a voice called out. I didn't move. The muzzle of the laser looked the mouth of the main habitat airlock, but I didn't move. Not being laser-proof is an idea I had had to get used to. "Open it yourself, Eddie. Who the hell are you to give me orders? Be nice and I might help you out." He came to his feet rigidly and moved around the end of the desk and over to the door. He opened it without taking his eyes off me. Two men tumbled into the room, reaching busily under their arms. One was an obvious pug, a good-looking pale-faced boy with a bad nose and one ear like a club steak. The other man was slim, blond, deadpan, with close-set eyes and no colour to them. Eddie Mars said: "See if this bird is wearing any iron." The blond flicked out an old-fashioned projectile weapon with a short barrel and stood pointing it at me. The pug sidled over flat-footed and felt my pockets with care. I turned around for him like a bored beauty modelling an evening gown. "No gun," he said in a burry voice. "Find out who he is." The pug slipped a hand into my breast pocket and drew out my wallet. He flipped it open and studied the contents. "Name's Philip Marlowe, Eddie. Lives at the Hobart Arms. Private licence, deputy's badge and all. A private investigator." He slipped the wallet back in my pocket, slapped my face lightly and turned away. "Beat it," Eddie Mars said. The two gunmen went out again and closed the door. There was the sound of them getting back into the car. They started its motor and kept it idling once more. "All right. Talk," Eddie Mars said. The peaks of his eyebrows made sharp angles against his forehead. "I'm not ready to give out. Killing Geiger to grab his racket would be a dumb trick and I'm not sure it happened that way, assuming he has been killed. But I'm sure that whoever got the books knows what's what, and I'm sure that the blonde lady at his store is scared batty about something or other. And I have a guess who got the books." "Who?" "That's the part I'm not ready to give out. I've got a client, you know." He wrinkled his nose. "That -" he chopped it off quickly. "I expected you would know the girl," I said. "Who got the books, soldier?" "Not ready to talk, Eddie. Why should I?" He put the laser down on the desk and slapped it with his open palm. "This," he said. "And I might make it worth your while." "That's the spirit. Leave the gun out of it. I can always hear the sound of money. How much are you clinking at me?" "For doing what?" "What did you want done?" He slammed the desk hard. "Listen, soldier. I ask you a question and you ask me another. We're not getting anywhere. I want to know where Geiger is, for my own personal reasons. I didn't like his racket and I didn't protect him. I happen to own this house. I'm not so crazy about that right now. I can believe that whatever you know about all this is under glass, or there would be a flock of cops squeaking shoe leather around this dump. You haven't got anything to sell. My guess is you need a little protection yourself. So cough up." It was a good guess, but I wasn't going to let him know it. I lit a cigarette and dragged on it and flicked ash at the burnt-out camera bot. "You're right," I said. "If anything has happened to Geiger, I'll have to give what I have to the law. Which puts it in the public domain and doesn't leave me anything to sell. So with your permission I'll just drift." His face whitened under the tan. He looked mean, fast and tough enough for a moment. He made a movement to lift the laser. I added casually: "By the way, how is Mrs Mars these days?" I thought for a moment I had kidded him a little too far. His hand jerked at the gun, shaking. His face was stretched out by hard muscles. "Beat it," he said quite softly. "I don't give a damn where you go or what you do when you get there. Only take a word of advice, soldier. Leave me out of your plans or you'll wish your name was Wong and you lived on the Moon." "Well, that's not so far from Earth," I said. "I hear you had a pal came from there." He leaned down on the desk, frozen-eyed, unmoving. I went over to the door and opened it and looked back at him. His eyes had followed me, but his lean grey body had not moved. There was hate in those eyes. I went out and through the hedge and up the hill to my rickshaw and got into it. I told the bot to turn around and drive up over the crest. Nobody shot at me. After a few blocks I turned off, told the rickshaw bot to go to sleep and sat for a few moments. Nobody followed me either. I drove back downtown.
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Part 2