The others looked at each other uneasily. “Those guys can shoot,” Little Joe said nervously.
Raven nodded. “So can we. St. Louis Hotel, Lefty.”
12
September 8th, 6.5 p.m.
CAMPBELL, special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, smiled at Sadie reassuringly. He sat behind a large desk in a severely furnished office.
“Before you give me your evidence,” he said, “I’ll tell you something about this guy Cruise. For one thing, that’s not his name. Fortunately, Mr. Ellinger obtained a perfect set of prints for us. We’ve had these checked.
They belong to a man whom we know as Raven and who we’ve been looking for for some time. This Raven had a bad criminal record in Chicago. He made things too hot for himself and pulled out. He pulled out in a stolen car and crossed a State line. That gave us a chance of getting after him. We lost sight of him here, although he was reported to have been seen further south. Never mind that. As far as you’re concerned, you’re safe from him. We shall give you special protection, and until he’s rounded up you’ll stay out of town with a special guard. You’re very important to us. Not only can you prove that he was the guy who killed Mendetta, but your testimony on his Slave racket will get him on the other counts we are bringing against him.”
Sadie moved restlessly. “Will it take long?” she asked.
Campbell shrugged. “I don’t think so. We mustn’t underrate this man. He’s clever, and he may still give us the slip, but with your help I think we’ll get him quickly. Can you tell me anything about his habits? Did he like movies, for instance? You see, what we have to do in a case like this is to find out everything we can about a wanted man. They have their own little peculiarities. Some of them are crazy about racing. Sooner or later they’ll appear on a race−track, and we catch them there. You see what I’m getting at?”
Sadie drew a deep breath. “He was crazy about toy trains,” she said.