Free Gangway! by Brian Garfield Donald E. Westlake Page A

wire. So I did, seeing no harm in it. Behold, there came a second telegram from Twill. He wired me twenty-five dollars, of which I was sorely in need at that particular juncture. He said I would receive an additional fifty dollars if I would watch for your arrival and wire him as soon as you appeared."
        "And?"
        "And what?"
        "That's not all of it, Francis."
        "Well, there was only one further instruction. If you left San Francisco with any evident intention of returning East, I was to wire him again and advise him of your approach. For this of course I would receive a further reward."
        "And did you wire him when I arrived?"
        "Certainly. I watched the arrivals today and saw you come ashore. I went to the telegraph office immediately and sent the wire. Unfortunately by the time I returned to the docks you had disappeared, and I've been looking for you ever since."
        "To tell me about Twill?"
        "Well, not entirely. I mean you are one of my very dearest friends, old cock."
        "Yeah."
        "Have I done something wrong?"
        "I guess not," Gabe said. "But one of these days I'm going back East, Francis, and I'm going to jerk that Persian carpet right out from under Fat Pat Twill. When I do I don't want any telegraph messages going out to warn him I'm coming back. You got that clear?"
        "Well, I…"
        "You'll be rich enough by the time I leave," Gabe said, "that you won't need any crumbs from Twill. I promise you that."
        "Rich? Me?"
        "We're all gonna be rich. You just stick by me and get ready to jump when I say frog."
        The girl, as if to head off Gabe from a topic she disliked, said quickly, "This Twill-who's he?"
        "Just a guy," Gabe growled.
        Francis smiled. "He's better known as Boss Twill, king of the underworld on the West Side of New York."
        She turned to lay her hand across Gabe's arm on the table. "So that's why you left New York. You were in danger from this big shot. You're not really going back there?"
        "When I'm ready," Gabe said. He seemed to be trying to lift his glass, but the girl was holding his arm down. He turned a glare on her. "Look, nothing you can say or do is going to change my mind, so forget it." He swiveled the glare toward Francis and Francis sat a little lower in the chair. "And you. Some associate."
        "Associate?"
        "Never mind," Gabe said. "Look, are you in or out?"
        "In what?"
        "With me. To get rich. Or are you satisfied being Twill's errand-boy associate for twenty-five bucks a telegram?"
        Francis really didn't have to consider it very hard. He was getting very sick and tired of living on the economic fringes. Gabe had talked about gold; Twill hadn't mentioned anything of the kind.
        He said, "Well of course I'm in, old cock, if my talents can be employed profitably."
        "Okay. I'll be in touch." And abruptly Gabe got to his feet, lifted the girl out of her chair, and steered her toward the door.
        

CHAPTER NINE
        
        As they went out, Vangie looked back from the door at the thin fey dude smiling at them from the table, waving his Pink Lady with cool insouciance. He had been a surprise to her, in a lot of different ways.
        On the street she said to Gabe, "I like your friend."
        "Urn," he said.
        "I didn't think I would at first. But he's really kind of nice."
        "Urn," Gabe said. He stood there squinting down the street as though he wasn't really a part of this conversation.
        Vangie studied him, thinking he had to be a more complex character than she had at first supposed. Not a simple Eastern roughneck after all, if he had artistic friends like Francis Calhoun. "I'm surprised you and he are such good friends," she said.
        "Yeah," Gabe said. "It kind of surprised me, too."
        "I bet his flat is lovely."
        "Yeah. Probably. Listen, what