007 Complete Series - 21 James Bond Novels in One Volume. Ian Fleming
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crazy even to be having lunch with you. But I’ll tell you why I was gumshoeing around Shady’s neck of the woods this morning and maybe we can help each other. Without involving our outfits, of course. Okay?’
‘You know I’d like to work with you, Felix,’ said Bond seriously. ‘But I’m still working for the Government while you’re probably in competition with yours. But if it turns out our target’s the same, there’s no sense in getting wires crossed. If we’re chasing the same hare, I’ll be happy to run with you. Now,’ Bond looked quizzically at the Texan. ‘Am I right in thinking you’re interested in someone with a blaze face and four white stockings? Called “Shy Smile”?’
‘That’s right,’ said Leiter, not particularly surprised. ‘Running at Saratoga on Tuesday. And what might the running of this horse have to do with the security of the British Empire?’
‘I’ve been told to back him,’ said Bond. ‘One thousand dollars to win. Pay-off for another job.’ Bond lifted up his cigarette and his hand covered his mouth. ‘I brought £100,000 worth of uncut diamonds in by plane this morning for Mr Spang and his friends.’
Leiter’s eyes narrowed. He gave a low whistle of surprise. ‘Boy!’ he said respectfully. ‘You’re certainly in a bigger league than me. I’m only interested because “Shy Smile” is a ringer. The horse that’s due to win on Tuesday won’t be “Shy Smile” at all. “Shy Smile” wasn’t even placed the last three times he ran. And anyway they’ve shot him. It’ll be a very fast job called “Pickapepper”. Just by chance he’s got a blaze face and four white stockings, too. Big chestnut, and they’ve done a good job with his hooves and various other small points of difference. They’ve been getting this job ready for over a year. Out in the desert in Nevada, where the Spangs have some sort of a ranch. And are they going to clean up! It’s a big race, with $25,000 added. And you can bet they’ll plaster the country with their money just before the off. Can’t fail to be better than Fives. More like Ten or Fifteen to One. They’ll make a packet.’
‘But I thought all horses in America had to have their lips tattooed,’ said Bond. ‘How have they got round that?’
‘Grafted new skin on to “Pickapepper’s” mouth. Copied “Shy Smile’s” marks on it. This tattoo gimmick is getting old fashioned. The word in Pinkerton’s is that the Jockey Club are going to change to photos of the night eyes.’
‘What are night eyes?’
‘They’re those callouses on the inside of a horse’s knees. The English call them “chestnuts”. Seems they’re different on every horse. Like a man’s finger-prints. But it’ll be the same old story. They’ll photo the night eyes on every racehorse in America and then find the gangs have dreamed up a way of altering them with acid. The cops never catch up with the robbers.’
‘How do you know all this about “Shy Smile”?’
‘Blackmail,’ said Leiter cheerfully. ‘I had a drugging rap all lined up on one of the Spang stable boys. I let him buy his way out of it with the details of this little caper.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Remains to be seen. Going up to Saratoga on Sunday.’ Leiter’s face lit up. ‘Hell, why don’t you come along with me? Driving up, and I’ll get you in at my dump. The “Sagamore”. Swanky motel. You’ve got to sleep somewhere. Better not be seen out together much, but we’ll be able to meet up in the evenings. What do you say?’
‘Wonderful,’ said Bond. ‘Couldn’t be better. And now it’s damn near two o’clock. Let’s have some lunch and I’ll tell you my end of the story.’
The smoked salmon was from Nova Scotia and a poor substitute for the product of Scotland, but the Brizzola was all that Leiter had said, so tender that Bond could cut it with a fork. He finished his lunch with half an avocado with French dressing and then dawdled over his Espresso.
‘And that’s the long and short of it.’ Bond concluded the story he had been telling between mouthfuls. ‘And my guess is that the Spangs are doing the smuggling and the House of Diamonds, which they own, is doing the merchandising. Any views?’
Leiter tapped a Lucky Strike out on to the table with his left hand and lit it at the flame of Bond’s Ronson.
‘Sounds possible,’ he agreed after a pause. ‘But I don’t know much about this brother of Seraffimo, Jack Spang. And if Jack Spang is “Saye” it’s the first I’ve heard of him for a long while. We’ve got records on all the rest of the mob, and I’ve come across Tiffany Case. Nice kid, but she’s been on the fringe of the gangs for years. Didn’t have much chance from the cradle up. Her mother ran the snazziest cat-house in San Francisco. Doing fine until she made one hell of a mistake. Decided one day not to pay the local outfit’s protection money. She was paying the police so much I guess she reckoned they’d look after her. Crazy. One night the mob turned up in force and wrecked the joint. Left the girls alone, but had themselves a gang-bang with Tiffany. She was only sixteen at the time. Not surprising she won’t have anything to do with men since then. Next day she got hold of her mother’s cash box, busted it open, and took to the hills. Then the usual round – hat-check girl, taxi-dancer, studio extra, waitress – until she was about twenty. Then maybe life didn’t seem so good and she took to liquor. Settled in a rooming house down on one of the Florida Keys and started drinking herself to death. Got so she was known as “The Boiled Sweet” down there. Then a kid fell in the sea and she jumped in and saved him. Got her name in the papers and some rich woman took a fancy to her and practically kidnapped her. Made her join “Alcoholics Anonymous” and then took her around the world as her companion. But Tiffany skipped when they got to ’Frisco and went and lived with her old Ma who had retired from the girl game by then. But she never would settle down and I guess she found life a bit quiet so she went on the lam again and ended up in Reno. Worked at Harold’s Club for a bit. Came across our friend Seraffimo, and he got all excited because she wouldn’t sleep with him. Offered her some sort of a job at the Tiara at Las Vegas and she’s been there for the last year or two. Doing these trips to Europe in between, I suppose. But she’s a good kid. Just never had a chance after what the gang did to her.’
Bond saw again the eyes gazing sullenly at him out of the mirror, and he heard the record playing ‘Feuilles Mortes’ in the lonely room. ‘I like her,’ he said briefly. He felt Felix Leiter’s eyes watching him speculatively. He looked at his watch. ‘Well, Felix,’ he said. ‘It looks as if we’ve got hold of the same tiger. But by different tails. It’s going to be fun pulling at them both at the same time. Now I’m going to go and get some sleep. Got a room at the Astor. Where shall we meet on Sunday?’
‘Better keep away from this part of town,’ said Leiter. ‘Meet you outside the Plaza. Early, so we can avoid the traffic on the Parkway. Let’s say nine o’clock. By the cab-stand. You know, where the horse-cabs are. Then if I’m late you can get to recognize a horse. Useful up at Saratoga.’
He paid the check and they walked down and out on to the grilling street. Bond hailed a cab. Leiter refused a lift. Instead he took Bond affectionately by the arm.
‘Just one thing, James,’ he said, and his voice was serious. ‘You may not think the hell of a lot of American gangsters. Compared with SMERSH for instance, and some of the other folk you’ve been up against. But I can tell you these Spangled boys are the tops. They’ve got a good machine, even if they do care to have funny names. And they’ve got protection. That’s how it is in America these days. But don’t misunderstand me. They really stink. And this job of yours stinks too.’ Leiter let go of Bond’s arm and watched him climb into the taxi. Then he leant in through the window.
‘And do you know what your job stinks of, you dumb bastard?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘Formaldehyde and lilies.’
9. BITTER CHAMPAGNE