Chapter 9 third chapter

There is a newly built apartment on a small hill in the West Village, which looks very cheap.Macdonald, Mallory, and Jim got out of the car in front of the apartment, and the car continued on, turned a corner ahead, and disappeared. The three of them walked through the apartment hall, which was very quiet, and there was no one in front of the telephone switchboard.They took the elevator up to the seventh floor, walked down the corridor, and stopped in front of a door.MacDonald took a key from his pocket and opened the door.They went in. It was a brand new room, brightly lit and smoky.The furniture in the room is brightly colored, and the pattern of the carpet is a lot of huge diamonds in yellow and green.There were many bottles of wine on the mantelpiece.

Two men sit at an octagonal table, each with a goblet at their elbow.One of the men had red hair, bushy eyebrows, and dark eyes set deep in his pale face.The other man had a ridiculous bulbous nose, almost no eyebrows, and hair the color of a sardine can.He slowly put down the cards in his hand, and walked across the room towards them with a broad smile on his face.His mouth was loose and he looked friendly, with an amiable look on his face. "Mike, are you in any trouble?" he asked. MacDonald rubbed his chin and shook his head reluctantly.He looked at the bulbous-nosed man as if he were looking at an enemy.The man with the bulbous nose was still smiling, and continued to ask:

"Have you searched him?" Macdonald gave a sneer, strode towards the mantelpiece where the wine bottle stood, and said in a disgusting tone: "A smart man doesn't have to carry a gun. He's a man with his head, very smart." Suddenly he came over again and slapped Mallory across the mouth with the back of his thick hand.Mallory smiled without protesting.He was standing in front of a divan, a tan like bile, covered with bright squares of red.His hands were placed vertically by his sides, cigarette smoke curling up from between his fingers, eventually merging into the layer of long-established haze on the rough vaulted ceiling.

"Don't worry, Mike," said the bulbous-nosed man, "you've done your job. You and Jim can go out now. Put gas in the car and let's go." Macdonald roared, "Costalo , who are you ordering, big man! I'll stay here until this liar gets his due." The man named Costalo shrugged.The red-haired man at the table turned slightly and looked at Mallory like a collector objectively analyzing a pinned beetle.He took out a cigarette from a flat black cigarette case, and carefully lit it with a golden lighter. MacDonald went back to the mantelpiece, poured a glass of whiskey from a square decanter, and drank it straight.He leaned sullenly against the mantelpiece.

Costalo stood in front of Mallory, fiddling with his long, thin fingers, crackling his knuckles. "Where are you from?" he asked. Mallory looked at him, eyes blurred.He put the cigarette to his mouth. "McNeil's Island," he replied, seeming to be teasing. "How long have you been here?" "Ten days." "What are you doing here?" "Counterfeit stuff," said Mallory in a mild, pleasant tone. "Have you ever been here?" Mallory said, "I was born here, don't you know?" Costalo speaks in a soft, even soothing voice. "No, I don't know that," he said. "What were you doing here ten days ago?"

MacDonald shuffled again, waving his thick arms.Leaning on Costalo's shoulder, he reached out and slapped Mallory again.Red marks appeared on Mallory's face immediately, and he shook his head, his eyes burning darkly. "Gee, Costalo, this guy isn't from McNeill Island at all, he's kidding you," MacDonald yelled, "This smart guy is just a dirty liar from Brooklyn or Kansas From the city, those places are famous, and the police are lame." Costalo raised his hand and gently pushed MacDonald's shoulder, saying, "You don't have to do this, Mike." He spoke very calmly.

MacDonald clenched his fists angrily, then burst out laughing, and lunged forward, putting his heel on Mallory's foot.Mallory yelled, "...Damn it!" and sank down on the couch. The room started to lack oxygen.There was only one wall with windows in the entire room, and thick gauze curtains hung vertically, covering the windows tightly.Mallory wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and patted his lips. Costallo said: "You and Jim go out, Mike." Still in that calm tone. MacDonald lowered his head and looked up at him.His face was already beaded with sweat and looked wet.He hadn't taken off his crumpled, ragged coat when he entered the room.Costalo didn't turn to look at him.After a while Macdonald began to stagger, elbowing the grey-haired policeman who was blocking him, and went back to the mantelpiece to grab the square Scotch bottle.

"Call your superiors, Costalo," he yelled over his shoulder. "Your brain can't handle this. Just do something useful and stop talking!" He tilted his head slightly He leaned over to Jim, patted him on the back, and sneered, "You just want to have another glass of wine, Mr. Police?" "What are you doing here?" Costalo asked Mallory again. "To find an acquaintance," Mallory said lazily, staring at him.The spark in his eyes had faded. "Coped well, boy." Mallory shrugged. "I originally thought that if I made a scene, I might have the opportunity to get in touch with the person I was looking for."

"Maybe you made a mistake in this scene." Costalo said calmly.He closed his eyes and scratched his nose with his thumbnail. "This kind of thing is sometimes unpredictable." Macdonald's piercing voice sounded in the closed room. "A wise fellow makes no mistake, sir, if he uses his head!" Costalo opened his eyes and glanced back at the red-haired man.The red-haired man rocked casually in the swivel chair.His right hand is half-open in a natural state, resting on his lap.Costalo turned his head the other way again, looking at MacDonald. "Get out!" he said sharply with a grim expression, "Get out now! You're drunk, and I won't argue with you."

MacDonald rested his shoulders on the mantelpiece, his hands in the side pockets of his coat, and a crumpled, shapeless hat slipped carelessly on the back of his large square head.The gray-haired policeman Jim moved a little away from him, his mouth trembling, and he looked at him nervously. "Call the boss, Costalo!" MacDonald yelled. "You can't order me! I don't like you, I won't listen to you!" Costalo hesitated, then walked over to the phone.Staring at a dark spot high up on the wall, he picked up the receiver from the cradle of the telephone, turned his back on MacDonald, and began dialing the number.Then leaned against the wall, smiled at Mallory with the handset in hand, and waited.

"Hello... yes... Costalo. All good, except Mike was drunk. He was very unfriendly... unwilling to go out. This is not clear... an out-of-town guy. Okay." MacDonald made a motion and said, "Wait a minute..." Costalo smiled and hung up the phone calmly.MacDonald stared at him with a fierce look in his eyes, and spat on the carpet, right in the corner between the chair and the wall.He said, "Crap! Crap! There's no way to call Montrose from here." Costalo moved his hands slightly.The red-haired man stood up, left the table, and stood there idly.His head was thrown back a little so that the cigarette smoke would rise out of his eyes. MacDonald stomped his feet angrily, his jawbone outlined a white line against his flushed face, his eyes were burning, deep and determined. "I think we should solve the problem like this." He said, pulling his hand out of his pocket seemingly casually, and a blue sidearm drew a precise and powerful arc in the air. Costalo looked at the red-haired man and said, "Grab him, Andy." The red-haired man exhaled the smoke from his pale lips, tensed his body, and waved his hands as fast as lightning. Mallory said, "Not fast enough, look here." He moved a bit, so fast and so small that it was hardly noticeable.His body leaned slightly towards the couch, and the black Luger was pointed at the red-haired man's stomach. The red-haired man slowly lowered his hand from the lapel of his jacket, and there was nothing in his hand.It was very quiet in the room.Costalo glanced at MacDonald with disgust in his eyes, spread his hands out in front of his face, looked down at them, and smiled blankly. Macdonald looked painful, and said slowly: "I can't do the kidnapping thing, Costalo, I don't want to do this kind of thing at all, I won't do it with you gangsters. I'm just betting on luck, betting on that smart man will stand by my side." Mallory stood up and walked sideways towards the red-haired man.He was halfway there when Jim, the gray-haired policeman, gave a yell and threw himself on Macdonald, grabbing his pocket.Macdonald looked at him, momentarily surprised.He stretched out his thick left hand, grabbed the lapels of Jim's coat tightly, and lifted it up.Jim threw two fists at him and hit him twice in the face.MacDonald pulled his lips back over his teeth. "Look at those fellows," he called to Mallory, and very coolly he put the pistol on the mantelpiece, put his hand in Jim's coat pocket, took out the leather butt, and said: "You're mean, Jim, you've always been mean." He was quite polite when he said this to Jim, not hostile to him.Then he swung his club and hit the gray-haired policeman on the forehead.The gray-haired policeman knelt down slowly, grabbing the hem of MacDonald's coat.MacDonald bent down and hit him again on the forehead with the short club, and in the same place, this time with a heavier blow.Jim collapsed, his mouth open, on the floor, his hat dropped aside.MacDonald waved his stick lightly, a drop of sweat dripping from his nostrils. Costallo said, "What a rough guy, isn't he, Mike?" He said nonchalantly, as if he wasn't interested in what was going on. Mallory walked up behind the red-haired man and said: "Hands up, man." When the red-haired man raised his hand, Mallory reached around his shoulders into his coat, took a pistol from a shoulder holster inside, dropped it on the floor behind him, and fumbled again. Touch the other side of his coat, pat his coat pocket.Then he took a few steps back and looked around Costalo.Costalo was not carrying a gun. Mallory walked up to MacDonald, stood where he could see everyone in the room, and asked: "Who was kidnapped?" MacDonald picked up his gun and a glass of whiskey. "The Farr girl," he said, "they kidnapped her on her way home, I reckon. They got the idea from the Italian bouncer that she was meeting someone at the Bolivar bar tonight, and they started planning .I don't know where they took her." Mallory stood with his legs apart, wrinkling his nose.He held his Luger casually, without exerting any force on his wrist.he asked: "Why are you doing this?" Macdonald said grimly, "Tell me about you first. I put you to sleep just now." Mallory nodded and said, "Indeed—just for yourself. I've been paid to find some letters from Rhonda Farr." He glanced at Costalo, who was deadpan. "That's my turn," MacDonald said. "I think it's a conspiracy. That's why I'm taking this opportunity, I want to get out of this relationship. That's it." He waved his hands and made a will. Everything in the room is in the palm of your hand.Mallory picked up a glass, checked the bottom to make sure it was clean, poured a little scotch, and took a few sips, moving his tongue in his mouth. "Let's talk about the kidnapping," he said. "Who did Costalo just call?" "Atkinson, a Hollywood barrister, runs these guys. He's that Farr's lawyer too. Good old Atkinson, sanctimonious fellow." "He was also involved in the kidnapping?" MacDonald smiled: "Of course." Mallory shrugged. "Looks like a stupid trick—to him." He walked around MacDonald to where Costalo was standing against the wall and put the muzzle of his Luger against Costalo's chin, pushing his head back until it was against the rough surface of the wall. plaster on. "Costalo's a nice guy," he said thoughtfully. "He wouldn't kidnap a girl. Would you, Costallo? Maybe do some polite blackmail, but not rude things. Right?" , Costalo?" Costalo's eyes blurred a bit.He swallowed, and squeezed out a sentence through his teeth: "Shut up! It's not funny at all." "Things are getting more and more interesting, but maybe you just don't know what's going on," Mallory said. He held the gun, and the barrel ran from Costalo's chin all the way to just under his nose, leaving a white mark that quickly turned into a red mark.Costalo looked a little scared.After stuffing a nearly full bottle of Scotch into his coat pocket, Macdonald said: "let me……" Mallory shook his head gravely and looked at Costalo. "It's too loud. You know how these places are built. You should meet this Atkinson. Must meet the boss—if you can find him." Jim opened his eyes, slapped his hands on the floor, and tried to get up.Macdonald raised a big foot and stepped casually on the grey-haired man's face.Jim fell to the ground again, disheveled. Mallory glanced at the red-haired man, went to the telephone stand, took off the receiver, and with his left hand, he dialed a number unexperienced. "I'm calling the guy who hired me ... he has a big car and he's going really fast ... We're going to be holding these guys hostage for a while," he said.