The Alarming Clock by Michael Avallone

Author:Michael Avallone [Avallone, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Story Merchant Books
Published: 2012-09-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Okay,” I said. “Give me room. I’m too tired to argue anymore. Try out all your old jokes on me. All I want to do is listen.” I sat down where there was room on one side. The good looking boy all by himself made space for me.

I’d never seen the FBI up close before. Just what you see in the movies. For once the movies were right. These boys had all their own teeth, were still in their prime and looked like three efficient businessmen. Lloyd Nolan could have played any one of them.

The one on the left across from me opened up with a tight smile.

“Noon, we’ll get right to the point. A man called Roland Ritz came to your office early today with a package containing a clock. That clock contains something that is mighty important to all of us.”

“You boys are way out of your neighbourhood,” was all I had to offer. “Washington, D.C., is that way.” I pointed.

The smiler didn’t get mad.

“I think a satisfactory explanation is that the future welfare of this country is tied up in that clock.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Come again.”

The smiler pyramided his fingers. “Roland Ritz was part of a project that is top secret. Right now, missing the way he is, the clock represents a leak of the most disastrous kind. One that enemy agents would love to make use of. We can’t tell you more than that. But we need your co-operation. I can’t stress that point too urgently.”

I looked at the three of them. I smiled and toyed with the martini Benny had brought me.

“Top secret, enemy agents—you guys sure live up to your advance billing.”

The guy on my left took in my sloppy suit and damaged collar.

“You aren’t exactly a surprise yourself, Mr. Noon.”

“I see your point,” I said. “But how about some credentials? I don’t look bright, I know, but I used to fool all my teachers.”

They laughed good-naturedly at that but produced three billfolds with those strikingly important looking cards. I’d seen FBI cards before. These were the McCoy.

“My name is Fairways,” the smiler across from me said. “The boy on your left is Henderson. And this is Thompson.”

“And I’m Noon. So we’re even. Now what gives?”

Fairways looked me right in the eye. His gaze was level and direct just like the rest of him.

“Noon, it’s no joke. If Ritz gave you that clock for safe keeping, don’t hold out on us. You’ve got the safety of the whole damn country in the palm of your hand.”

I shook my head. “No clock today, boys. Ritz left one with me all right. But it was a phony. At least a fellow named Maxim said it was. And now poor old Ritz is lying on a slab at the police morgue. Or hadn’t you heard? He was shot up in my office a couple of hours ago.”

Me and my little deathless speeches. Henderson, Fairways and Thompson exchanged glances that patted each other on the back for looking up such a fount of information like me.

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