Lardner's face lighted slowly and a sardonic grin crossed his face.
"Talk big, play boy," he urged. "I don't need lead to put you out of the way."
Drake's slim body shot forward with the suddenness of a catapult. His shoulders were low as they struck Lardner's thick belly. Caught off guard, Lardner's heavy, ape arms twisted about Jim's waist and he started to crush Drake's body against his own. With a quick twist Drake was loose, dodging backward as a light left caught Lardner on the chest. Lardner jumped in quickly, puffing hard. His right arm swept out and brought blood to Drake's nose.
The slim air cadet shook his head, feeling the sting on his face. He brushed an arm across his nose, and felt warm blood on his fingers. This time Drake went in low, caught Lardner with his left hand just above the belt. The big man bent over with a grunt as Drake's right climbed under his chin like a looping Spitfire. Jim Drake's right fist went home with the entire impact of his shoulder behind it. He felt a twinge of pain shoot through his arm as Lardner's head swept backward with a jerk. The fat man stumbled and sat down abruptly. He looked surprised and frightened, shaking his head back and forth like an angry bull.
"You dirty...." Lardner didn't attempt to rise. His face was flaming red. "Shoot the legs out from under him."
A tommy came up swiftly, trained on Drake.
"Hold it!" A harsh, almost frightened voice came from the shadows by the wall.
Puffy Adams stood, back to the granite, sweeping a tommy gun around on the gang of men. His trigger finger was poised easily, the gun slung carelessly in the curve of his arm. His voice, frightened for Drake, became cool as he saw the last gun drop toward the floor.
"One shot," he said, "and I'll poke enough lead into your boss to keep you rats from ever flying anywhere again."
Drake was at his side now.