‘We did the son-of-a-bitch!’ enthused the shortest of the three male criminals, jerking off the ski-mask to expose a perspiring and reddened set of thin features, as the elevator into which the gang had hurried began to descend. ‘We pulled it off!’
‘I never doubted we would,’ stated the man with the shotgun, also removing the protective covering to display he was handsome in an obvious fashion. ‘And it was as worthwhile as I promised it would be.’
‘You can say that again!’ the third man asserted, duplicating the actions of his masculine companions, although the woman made no attempt to remove the mask. Gesturing with the flour sack he was carrying, he continued, ‘Even without the twenty big ones, those cats were loaded with bread.’
‘Why’d you have to put down that blonde?’ the first speaker inquired.
‘I didn’t like her face,’ replied the woman to whom the question was directed, her manner suggesting no further discussion of the subject was necessary.
Nor was there time for anything more to be said.
At that moment, the elevator reached its destination!
Having been the first to enter on the floor from which they had descended, the woman allowed the men to leave ahead of her!
It proved to be a wise, even though inadvertent, decision!
Even as they were emerging, the three men received a most unpleasant surprise!
Carrying a variety of weapons intended for offensive rather than defensive purposes, several men rose from where they had respectively crouched in concealment behind various vehicles in the basement parking lot. Each was clad in a khaki uniform, with a six-pointed silver star on the left breast pocket of his shirt and a cloth shield on each sleeve announcing he was a member of the Rockabye County Sheriff’s Office.
‘Peace officers here!’ Deputy Sheriff Thomas Cord announced in ringing tones. ‘Freeze, and drop those guns!’
‘Get the pigs!’ screeched the biggest of the trio, starting to raise the Remington Brushmaster shotgun.
Hearing the elevator doors starting to close, cutting off any hope of escape in that direction, the other two men released the flour sacks and began to bring the weapons they were still holding into a firing position. Neither they, nor their companion, noticed the woman had not followed them into the basement.
The decision to resist was rash, even dangerously futile, under the circumstances!
Every peace officer in Texas, particularly those who served as deputies to the sheriff of Rockabye County, knew how to cope with such a threat to their well-being!
Selected by preference as a ‘back up’ for his Colt Government Model automatic pistol when he was going into a situation which threatened to involve combat with firearms, the Winchester Model of 1897 riot gun carried by Deputy Sheriff Bradford Counter flowed swiftly towards his right shoulder. Alert to the peril posed by the sawed-off Remington, he lined the barrel and squeezed the trigger in what seemed to be a single and uninterrupted blur of movement. The result justified the amount of time and money spent by the Rockabye County Department of Public Safety to ensure local peace officers acquired proficiency in the use of firearms; although it must be admitted that, like many of his colleagues, the blond giant supplemented his training at his own expense.
Spraying from the muzzle of the Winchester, as a result of the way they spread on being freed from the confines of the barrel, only three of the .32 caliber buckshot balls found their intended target. They proved to be sufficient. Knocked backwards by the impact, and screeching in mortal agony, the biggest man allowed the cut-down weapon to fly from his grasp. Rebounding from the closed doors of the elevator, he tumbled to the floor. What was more, two of the balls caught the man to his right. While the wounds they caused were superficial, the shock and agony of the delivery produced the desired effect from the point of view of the peace officers. Discarding his handgun unfired and yelling in pain, he twisted around and dropped to his knees.
Nor did the last of the trio achieve any greater success in his attempt to follow their leader’s instructions. He got off two shots, but neither took effect. Aiming low, Cord and First Deputy Angus ‘Mac’ McCall sent the loads of their riot guns in a less lethal way than circumstances had compelled their younger companion to fire. Nevertheless, their efforts proved equally efficacious. Struck in the legs by some of the balls directed at him, the remaining criminal went down with the weapon leaving a hand which could no longer follow the dictates of his mind.
Holding the weapons ready for use, the members of the posse—the term employed by the Rockabye County Sheriff’s Office for any law enforcement operation requiring more than one team of deputies—advanced towards the stricken criminals. Relying upon his companions to deal with any hostile actions which might occur, Brad tucked the riot gun under his left arm and reached behind his back with the liberated hand.
‘God damn it!’ the blond giant ejaculated in exasperation. ‘The radio’s fallen off my belt!’
‘Go find it pronto!’ McCall ordered. ‘Warn Alice the woman’s on her way up again!’
‘Yo!’ Brad assented, turning and hurrying to where he had been hiding. Laying the riot gun on the hood of the car, he retrieved the General Electric Voice Commander radio. Switching it on, he spoke urgently into the microphone. ‘Alice, the woman’s coming up. Do you read me, Alice?’
There was no reply from the redhead!
~*~
Despite the alarm and consternation which had assailed her as she was watching what happened to her male companions through the closing doors of the elevator, the female member of the gang was not numbed into inactivity by the shock.
Such a reaction was contrary to the nature and instincts of Sharon Sparswith!
Although Marla had been correct about the family background of her opponent in Houston, she was wrong about the other having no need to compete for the financial benefits!
Only daughter of a prominent movie star who—like others of his kind—had found the proclamation of sturdy ‘liberal’ ideals were a sure-fire means of obtaining critical acclaim and continued lucrative employment no matter how poorly the general public supported his films, Sharon had soon given up the idea of using her relationship as a way of acquiring a well paid career in the same field. Nor, as the children of other actors who had employed such nepotism had preceded her and cornered the market publicity-wise, had she sought to attain stardom of a kind by espousing radical causes. Instead, emulating her mother—a lady of less ‘liberal’ pretensions who, having grown tired of her father, left him for a more enjoyable way of life—she had joined the so-called jet-set and this had paved the way for her present predicament.
Attending a party in Manhattan three years earlier, Sharon had been persuaded to participate in a bout of apartment house wrestling. At that time, she had had no need to compete for a purse. However, the humiliation of having been seen defeated by a girl she considered a social inferior had goaded her to train and acquire sufficient knowledge to seek revenge. Such had been the elation caused by the subsequent victory that, combined with her naturally aggressive nature, she had continued to compete as a ‘silver spoon’ and had found the invitations she received to attend gatherings where the bouts formed the entertainment of the evening offered opportunities to travel around the country at the expense of the hosts.
All had been going well until, following some ill-advised comments the brunette had made regarding the political pretensions of her father which had appeared in a less than ‘liberal’ national magazine, he had reduced her allowance drastically. The loss of revenue could not have come at a worse time. Having been unfortunate in gambling, she was in debt to men who expected payment to be made promptly and were no respecters of family status if the money should not be forthcoming. There had been nobody to whom she could turn. Her mother had died a few years earlier and attempts to call her father on the telephone had met with the information that he was not available.
Although Sharon had never competed for the money so far, she had seen the wrestling bout at Houston as a chance to solve her most immediate problem.
Making the most of her knowledge of how such parties were organized, the brunette had disguised herself as a nun and waylaid Rona in the Galleria Mall to create the need for a substitute. Unfortunately, as a result of her overconfidence, she had failed to obtain the purse of five thousand dollars which would have removed her debts. Nor, due to her insistence upon ‘winner takes all’ and her host and the guests sharing the belief that she had no need for money, had she received any payment, or gratuities, for her efforts.
The meeting with Omar J. Fannin at the Houston Oaks Hotel had struck the unscrupulous young woman as presenting a way out of her financial difficulties, but she had not intended to rely upon the return bout with Marla to produce solvency. On learning of the venue of the party and being offered such advantageous accommodation, she had envisaged the possibility of making far more money than the purse which would be presented to the winner. What was more, she had the means available to implement the scheme she was contemplating. The young man to whom Fannin had referred as her cousin was, in fact, not related to her. Coming from a similar background to her own, he was a tennis-and ski-bum, currently living with her. As he had criminal connections and similar debts to her own, as well as being under the influence of her dominant personality, he had proved a willing accomplice.
Selling such furs and jewelry as she had obtained prior to the breach with her father had produced sufficient money to satisfy her creditors and provide working capital for Sharon’s intentions. Leaving her boy friend in Houston to pick up a couple of assistants and follow by car, she had flown to Gusher City to reconnoiter and work out a way of achieving her purpose. Settled in the Brendan Condominium complex, she had devoted all her far from inconsiderable ingenuity to formulating a plan of campaign.
As Sharon had been aware, even before reaching her destination, obtaining access to the venue of the party for her associates would be the first and most difficult problem. Nor had her examination of the premises caused her to revise her opinion of the difficulty. Having the trio invited as guests was out of the question. Nor did making a forcible entry via the front door, or a window, provide the answer. The former was too well protected by a lock, bolts and sturdy wooden panels and, apart from being on the seventh floor, the latter were fitted with bullet proof glass and electronic alarms. Furthermore, the basement garage and passages of the complex were monitored by closed circuit television on a twenty-four hours a day basis. However, provided the surveillance could be avoided, she had been satisfied the holdup was possible.
To paraphrase a cult of jokes, Sharon had had some good luck and some bad luck!
On the good side, unknowingly, Fannin had helped the brunette to achieve her purpose. He had never organized an apartment house wrestling party, the one in Houston having been the first he had attended, so he had called upon her for advice. It had been at her instigation, using the need to keep the identity of the guests a secret, that he had instructed the security guards to switch off the television cameras in the basement garage and seventh floor passage. As an extra ‘precaution’, she had prevailed upon him to have the lens of each covered on the night to prevent them being operated accidentally. xlvii
Although the brunette was unaware of its cause at that moment, the bad luck had arisen through the indiscretion of the men selected as helpers by her boyfriend. Petty criminals and not too intelligent, they had known only that the holdup was to take place and were led to believe one of the security guards had been bribed to help them. Being newcomers to Gusher City, but with the instinct of their kind to find other criminals, they had sought for a fence to whom the jewelry and credit cards they stole could be sold. News of their search and its reason had reached Milton Crabtree and he had passed it to Deputy Sheriff Thomas Cord.
Calling Fannin that morning, Sharon had claimed that the strenuous training she had undergone had brought about a premature menstrual period and had excused herself from attending the party. Arriving disguised as deliverymen, and fetching the equipment they required, her associates had spent the afternoon cutting through the wall of the adjacent bedrooms with such care that no trace of their activities could be seen from the side of their intended victims until the moment of the breakthrough. Her experience of such events, plus a small peephole through which they could ensure the other room was unoccupied had allowed the gang to effect the entrance undetected.
Putting out the lights in the bedrooms and opening the door enough for her purpose, the brunette had taken advantage of the occupants of the lounge being engrossed in the struggle between the two girls and had obtained photographs she felt sure would prove a fruitful source of blackmail. When the bout had been brought to its end, she and her companions had carried out the hold up as easily as she had envisaged. However, still infuriated by the memory of the defeat she had suffered in Houston, she had yielded to temptation and delivered the otherwise unprovoked attack upon Marla. Although it had come as a surprise to their assistants, her boy friend knowing her vindictive nature, had expected something of the kind and was ready to counter any adverse activity it created.
To have had success within her grasp, then seen it snatched away, might have driven a woman with a weaker will to surrender to the peace officers!
Sharon was made of much sterner stuff!
Furthermore, the brunette had made preparations from the beginning, in case anything should go wrong and she was prevented from leaving the building!
Spitting out the small marble which had helped disguise her voice, and pressing on the starting button of the elevator to cause it to ascend, Sharon set to work with the speed of desperation. While removing the ski mask and the Afro fashion wig which had bulked it out, she slipped her feet from the sneakers. Having set down the camera, she took off the baggy and padded sweater and slacks she had used to conceal her curvaceous figure. Divesting herself of them left her clad in no more than a pair of black satin briefs and a diaphanous white ‘shortie’ nightgown. Taking a wedge-shaped piece of wood from the pocket of the slacks, she wrapped the discarded clothing and camera in a bundle. She worked so quickly, the tasks were completed just before the seventh floor was reached.
Glancing cautiously along the passage to satisfy herself she could leave unobserved, the brunette bent and thrust the wooden wedge into position so it prevented the doors closing. Having rendered the elevator temporarily inoperative, she hurried across to the fire doors giving access to the stairs and tossed her bundle down them followed by her gloves. Confident that neither the garments nor the camera could be traced back to her, she sped just as swiftly to the condominium which had been put at her disposal. Going inside, she closed and locked the door behind her.
Built on the same lines as its neighbor, the lounge which Sharon started to cross was almost as sparsely furnished. As she was making for one of the bedrooms on the opposite side to that from which access to the party was obtained, she gave thought to what must be done to provide her with an alibi.
Although Sharon had not previously considered any emergency plans would be needed, as she now felt sure her companions had no hope of escaping, she was grateful for having made preparations which would suggest her innocent of complicity in the hold up. In the wardrobe of her bedroom were two pieces of rope, knotted in such a fashion that she could draw them tightly around her wrists and ankles. There was also a can holding a pad of cotton wool impregnated with chloroform. Using them, she could rapidly convey the impression that she had been bound and subjected to the anesthetic as a means of keeping her under restraint while the gang were preparing and carrying out the robbery.
The deception was almost certain to be investigated, but the brunette was confident she could make her story stick. Being of ‘liberal’ persuasions, her boyfriend had all the paranoid hatred of his kind for everybody involved in the enforcement of law and order. Not only did she feel sure he would react violently on finding himself confronted by the peace officers, but at her instigation, he was carrying a weapon calculated to make them disinclined to take chances on being threatened by it, and they would shoot to kill.
Sharon was equally certain that she had nothing to fear should the other two men be taken alive. In fact, the only information they could supply was such that it would give support for her story. Neither had seen her without the padded garments and ski mask. On their arrival, they had been told she was a female criminal who had gained admission by posing as a cleaning woman. Wearing a suitable disguise, her boyfriend had already established the existence of such a cleaner by letting himself be seen by the security guards visiting the building a couple of times a week. If questioned on the point, she intended to claim that she had been fooled by the woman she hired.
If all had gone as planned, where the two assistants were concerned, the brunette would not have needed such precautions against her complicity being exposed. In fact, they might have counted themselves fortunate to have brought the peace officers to the garage. Once away from the building they were to have been killed and such loot as would otherwise have been disposed of through a fence left in their possession. After this was done, she and her boyfriend were to have created a different alibi for her. With her disguise removed, she was to be left bound and gagged in the vehicle they used for their getaway. Brought by a telephone call he made, the police would find her and be told how she was abducted as a hostage after the hold up. She had felt sure her attire and the performance she put on would have acquired sympathy from the officers.
Sharon was almost at the door of the bedroom when she heard a feminine voice from behind her!
‘Peace officer here. Freeze!’
Swinging around, the brunette saw the ‘blonde’ she had thought to be a potential contender for a bout coming from the desecrated bedroom!
Combined with the words she had heard, the short barreled revolver and small two-way radio carried by the woman warned Sharon that her summation was incorrect!