I hauled off and slapped Katz across the face twice. He moved his head, muttered and then opened his eyes. As soon as he saw me he sat up. I put my hand over his face and slammed him back on the bed. Even though he was just coming to the surface he’d got enough savvy to try and bite me.
“Get a grip on yourself,” I told him, “I want you to do a little talking. If you’re smart, you’ll start right away, but if you think you can get away with anything you’re going to get the works.”
Katz drew his breath in with a sharp little hiss. His eyes half closed and his mouth became a slit in his white face. “You’re crazy to start this, Mason,” he said. “Why, you punk, you sure must be crazy to think you can get away with this.”
I was in no mood to talk turkey to this guy. I gave him a punch right in the middle of his face to show him I wasn’t playing.
A thin trickle of blood came from his nose and ran down to the side of his mouth. He put his tongue out and carefully licked his lips. I guess that guy hated me as much as he could hate anyone.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, close to him. “I don’t care if I have to rip you to bits,” I said, speaking softly, “but you’re going to talk. Where’s my wife? Where’s Mardi Jackson?”
He didn’t know. I felt a cold chill of disappointment grip me when I saw the expression in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he wasn’t bluffing. The question had come as a surprise, I could tell that.
“All right,” I said, “I’ll try again. What’s behind the Mackenzie racket?”
This time he shifted his eyes. “You go to hell,” he said. “You ain’t makin’ me talk.”
I said to Ackie, “Sit on his legs.”