Free Mouthpiece by L. Ron Hubbard Page A

Collins and tapped his fingers on its back. “All
right. We’ll get our stuff together and leave. We can cruise down the back
alley out of sight. We can’t afford to fight any cops right now.” He started
toward the stairs.
    The shortwave receiver
crackled.
    â€œHuh!” said Tony. “I
must have left it on this afternoon.” He started toward the table, his hand
outstretched to snap the button. His fingers touched the metal. At that
instant, the receiver spoke.
    â€œCalling Squad Car
Sixty-five. Calling Squad Car Sixty-five. Calling Squad Car Sixty-five.”
    The voice was somewhat
muffled but very crisp. It held a nasal twang.
    â€œNew announcer,”
stated Tascori as he paused at the foot of the stairs. “Let’s see what he says.
That’s probably the one you saw outside, Giovanni.”
    Giovanni nodded his
head in affirmation.
    â€œCalling Squad Car
Sixty-five,” intoned the loudspeaker. “Proceed immediately to 622 South Hanover
Street. Six, two, two, South Hanover Street. Proceed to six, two, two, South
Hanover Street. Prowler reported nearby. Prowler reported nearby. Proceed
immediately.”
    The radio fell silent
and Tony was reaching for the button when it spoke again.
    â€œCalling all squad
cars in north of city. Calling all squad cars in north of city.” The voice was
monotonous. “Calling all squad cars in north of city. Proceed in general
direction of northern city limits.
    â€œProceed immediately
north to intercept Tascori mob. Attention all squad cars in north of city.
‘One-Eye’ Tascori has been sighted at Dickerson and Spring Streets proceeding
in general direction of Butler Square.”
    The radio droned on,
assigning streets to cars, laying down a perfect net to trap the reported
gangster.
    Tascori laughed
shortly. “Dumb cops! I guess we’ll stay right here tonight. Safe enough with
them chasing us all over the other side of town. Leave it on. I want another
good laugh like that one!”
    He
tugged at the patch over his sightless eye and came back into the room. Picking
up a paper, he once more read the story of Collins’ downfall. Then, lying back in
an upholstered chair, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
    F or a good half hour he stared
ahead of him, plans passing back and forth behind his narrowed eye. Suddenly he
snapped out of his reverie.
    The front door had
slammed! Feet were heard running through the house! In the other room the
gangsters threw back their chairs and jerked at their automatics. Tascori
sprang up, balanced for an instant on the balls of his feet and then ran for
the door.
    But a drawling voice
stopped him. He glanced about him and then stared at the receiving set.
    â€œYou’d better stay
where you are, Tascori!” It was the voice of Collins! “Police are all around
the house and in the surrounding rooms. You’re trapped! You and the rest of
your mob better surrender quietly if you want to live a few weeks longer!”
    Tony and Giovanni had
run to the door at the sound of the voice. They stared for a moment at the
receiving set. Their guns fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the
floor.
    Tascori swayed
slightly and then insanely he sent a bullet crashing through the closed door of
the closet. He remembered where he had left Collins.
    A cold voice above him
jerked him upright. A Thompson submachine gun was covering him. “Drop that gun,
Tascori!” The light glinted from a metal badge.
    With a hoarse scream,
Tascori threw up his gun and fired wildly at the upper landing.
    Flame spurted from the
machine gun. The impact of bullets hurled the gangster’s body to the floor. The
crash of a pistol burst from the other room, and was followed by a fusillade.
    The three remaining
gangsters cowered against the walls, whipped.
    The police chief
walked down the stairs followed by two officers with the submachine gun. Four
policemen stepped through the doorway and