Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,70
three intruders.
“Nobody move,” Jackie said, “or I light this thing, and we’ll all be blown to kingdom come.” To illustrate her point, she moved the lighter closer to the fuse of the dynamite stick, her finger set to flick it on at a moment’s notice. “Now, drop your weapons.”
“Who’s gonna make us?” the Mambo King asked with a show of bravado.
“My little friend here, Mr. Dynamite Stick. He can be very persuasive,” Jackie said in her best rat-a-tat gun moll imitation, hoping the tremor in her voice wouldn’t betray her. She moved the lighter closer to the fuse, her finger looking ready to conjure up a flame at any second. To her disappointment, the Mambo King and his underlings acted as if they still needed a more convincing argument.
“She’s bluffing, boss,” one of the gunsels said.
“Oh, you think so,” said Jackie, pushing the dynamite stick right into his face. “Try me, and you might soon be singing a different tune—with a heavenly choir.”
The gangster backed up until he was against the couch. But no one was listening to Jackie’s orders. She knew that she had to step things up a notch or her bluff would soon be spotted for the fake-out it was.
“Don’t mess with me, boys. I guess Lucky Luciano never told you about me. He calls me the Black Widow. Whenever he wants a lady killer, I’m his girl.”
Jackie had plucked Luciano’s name out of her brain like a lucky ace from a deck of cards. From what she’d read about the exiled New York City crime boss in the report from Robert Maheu, she figured that the last thing these Chicago thugs wanted was to get into a gangland war with him. She stared intently into the eyes of the Mambo King and was relieved to see that he was the first to blink. The three gangsters looked from one to another in growing consternation. Maybe this crazy dame was on the level.
“So ditch the rods,” Jackie ordered, warming to her new role as a mob assassin. “Put ’em down and your hands up!”
This time, her words seemed to have the desired effect. The Mambo King gave the slightest of nods to his accomplices. Very slowly, all three men bent down and placed their weapons on the floor, then just as slowly rose and raised their hands in surrender.
Without being prompted, Emiliano retrieved the guns from the floor, pocketing two of them but taking the third and holding it on the three gangsters.
“Okay, you two—get in the bathroom. Now!” Jackie commanded the Mambo King’s accomplices. Reluctant to take orders from a woman, even if she was holding a dynamite stick in her hand, they looked at their boss.
“Listen to the lady,” he said.
One by one, they filed into the small room, but not before Jackie removed her things. She could see that the space was a tight fit.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said to the Mambo King. He fixed her with a look that could have curdled milk and followed his two accomplices into the crowded room. Now it was an even tighter fit in there, and the Mambo King looked less than pleased with his new accommodations. Very quickly, Emiliano began to close the door. The Mambo King stuck his head out, his eyes radiating pure hatred at Jackie, and said, “Lady, you’ll pay for this.”
“Just put it on my tab,” Jackie said with perfect nonchalance and nodded at Emiliano, who pushed the door closed, forcing the Mambo King to withdraw his head like a turtle going back into its shell.
Emiliano took out his penknife and used its blade to jam the lock and keep the three mobsters incarcerated until the conductor could free them. Then he gave Jackie a grateful look. “That was fast thinking, Jacqueline.”
“Good thing I still had your lighter.” She handed it back to Emiliano, who already had his hands full with the pocketknife and the gun. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
As they went out into the corridor, Emiliano turned to Jackie and said, “Where did you ever learn to talk like that?”
“Watching old James Cagney and George Raft movies on The Late Show.”
For what they planned to do next, Emiliano went to the conductor and bribed the railroad man into lending him his spare uniform. More money changed hands, and the conductor gave up the number of the compartment where the Three Stooges were lodged. Jackie and Emiliano figured that if the bluff worked once, it might work a