Graveyard Plots Read Free Page A

a public telephone booth stood between the rest room doors. Inside the booth, Cain set the glass on the little shelf beneath the phone and dialed the same number that he had on Thursday night.
    Presently, there was a soft click and a man's voice said guardedly,
    "Yes?"
    "Agenrood?"
    A brief pause. "Yes?"
    "Did you get my note?"
    Another pause, longer this time. Then, "I received it."
    "Did you understand it?"
    "I think I did."
    "Good," Cain said. "I thought you would."
    "Just who are you?"
    "You don't really expect me to tell you that, do you?"
    "All right, then. How much do you want?"
    "Two hundred thousand dollars."
    Cain heard Agenrood suck in his breath.
    "Did you hear me, Agenrood?"
    "I heard you."
    "Well?"
    "I don't keep that kind of money."
    "But you can get it readily enough."
    "Suppose I don't agree?"
    "What do you think?"
    "You're making a large mistake," Agenrood said. "I represent—"
    "I know who you represent."
    "Then you're a fool."
    "Two hundred thousand dollars," Cain said.
    "If I pay it, you won't live to spend it."
    "If you don't," Cain said, "you won't live. Period."
    There was a long silence.
    "Well. Agenrood?"
    "I'll have to think it over."
    Cain smiled. "You do that."
    "How can I get in touch with you?"
    Cain continued to smile. "Stay by your phone, Agenrood," he said, and replaced the receiver.
    James Agenrood paced the wine-colored carpet in his study ner vously. He said, "He called about eight tonight, Len."
    The distinguished man stood holding a snifter of brandy by Agenrood's desk. His features were grim. "And?"
    "He wants two hundred thousand dollars."
    Len said, "My God!"
    "He's deadly serious. It was plain in his voice."
    "What are you going to do?"
    "I don't know," Agenrood said. "That's why I asked you to come by."
    Len rolled the brandy snifter between his hands. "If you pay him," he said slowly, "it won't be the last time. If he knows you're worried, worried enough to come up with the money once, he'll be back. Again and again."
    "Yes. I was thinking the same thing."
    "I'd like to say Reilly and Pordenza have something further," Len said. "Or that somebody on that list you gave me checks out as possible."
    "But there's nothing, is there?"
    "Nothing at all."
    "Then I've got to pay him," Agenrood said. "Either that, or—"
    He left it there, moistening his lips.
    Len walked across to the wine-colored drapes covering a large picture window. He stood with his back to Agenrood. After a time he said, "That would be very dangerous, Jim."
    "I know."
    "You're established now, both here and with the National Office. And you're important to us, Jim. Very important. I think you realize what I mean. If something went wrong . . ."
    "I know that, too," Agenrood said.
    Len turned and met Agenrood's eyes. "I don't advise that alternative," he said.
    "Do you think I like the idea of it any better? But it doesn't look like I have much choice, does it?"
    Len did not say anything.
    "Will you help me, Len?" Agenrood asked.
    "I don't know."
    "I've never asked you for a favor before."
    "No, you haven't."
    "I want two men, that's all."
    The distinguished man worried his lower lip. "How do you know he'll leave himself open? He's done the rest of it very shrewdly."
    "If he doesn't, I can arrange it."
    "Are you sure?"
    "No," Agenrood said. "I'm not sure."
    "When is he supposed to contact you again?"
    "He didn't say. I don't think it will be too long, though."
    "I see."
    The two men stood quietly for several minutes. Agenrood said then, "More brandy, Len?"
    "Yes."
    Agenrood poured more brandy for each of them. They stood drinking in silence. Finally, Len said, "All right, Jim. If you can arrange a quiet place, out of the way. If you can do that."
    Agenrood inclined his head and, wordlessly, they continued to stand drinking their brandy in the dark study.
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    T he telephone booth in the lobby of the San Francisco Hilton Hotel smelled of lime-scented after-shave lotion. Cain did not like the smell, but he kept the