Boldt by Ted Lewis

to Murdock.
    â€œTurn around,” I say to the guy.
    The guy turns around.
    â€œSo,” I say to him. “The card says Secret Service. What did you do, send box tops for it?”
    The guy sighs. “You know I’m what it says I am,” he says. “Deep down in your heart of hearts you know it. But if you want to check it out, I’ll give you an extra few minutes before you have to admit you’re wrong.”
    â€œThat’d be long enough for me to split your lip for you,” Murdock says.
    â€œYes, I guess it would,” the guy says.
    â€œOh, shit,” I say to Murdock. “Leave it. We’ll check it out, but we know the answer.”
    â€œChrist,” Murdock says. “Why don’t we ever get to know anything?”
    â€œYou mean you couldn’t guess?” the guy says. “You couldn’t figure we’d have men covering a thing like this?”
    â€œSure, sure,” I say, lighting a cigarette.
    The guy moves away from the wall.
    â€œStill,” he says, “the way you came into the room, I can appreciate how you wouldn’t figure something like this.”
    â€œMaybe we ought to remind him we haven’t checked him out yet,” Murdock says.
    I shake my head then I ask the guy, “What do you hope to achieve in a flea pit like this?”
    The guy jerks his head at the ceiling.
    â€œThe roof,” he says. “It’s the highest in this section. On the day, I liaise with your helicopter. In the meantime, I work from here checking the street, and by the time the day comes, we’re legislated for everything but the wild card. And that we’ve got a good chance of reading.”
    â€œOh, sure,” I tell him. “No problem.”
    â€œWell,” he says, “don’t forget we’ve got you scaring him away.”
    Murdock makes a move but I slow him down by standing between them.
    â€œForget it. Forget about him. He’s here, but he’s not going to be any use. They never are. After it’s all over and he’s played it by the book, he says well, how can I be blamed? I did it right.”
    â€œYeah,” the guy says. “Like you came through the door.”
    I put my arm out to stop Murdock going forward.
    â€œCome on,” I say. “Let’s get back on the street. There’s no point hanging around here. We don’t want to spoil his game.”
    The guy grins at us as we go out closing the door behind us. The desk clerk has vanished from the landing.
    â€œHe’s right,” Murdock says. “He could have had us cold if he’d been the wrong guy.”
    â€œWell, he wasn’t and fifty percent of that performance in there was for his own benefit,because he’d been caught cold, too, without his gun.”
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œWhat would you have done caught flatfooted like that?”
    â€œI guess maybe you’re right,” Murdock says.
    I tread my cigarette out on the floor.
    â€œCome on, let’s go downstairs.”
    On the way out I notice that the clerk is nowhere to be seen but I decide to leave it at that.
    We walk down the street to where we’ve left the car, get in and pull away. After Murdock has been driving for a minute or two, I say, “Oh, Christ, let’s face it, the guy was right.”
    â€œSure he was right.”
    â€œChrist, I mean, the way we went in there.”
    â€œYeah, like gangbusters.”
    I shake my head.
    â€œGangbusters would have kicked in the door so hard it would’ve flattened anybody stood behind it.”
    We drive along some more without saying anything until Murdock asks, “Where we going now?”
    â€œFollow the route. Turn into Weaver Street.”
    â€œThen what?”
    I am tired and pissed off and I don’t want Murdock asking me what I’m asking myself.
    â€œJust cover the route, George. That’s all. I don’t figure on stopping off anymore