The Toff In New York by John Creasey Page B

Rollison, and have the other operator check everywhere in the hotel, to see if there’s any legman of Dutch’s about. If there is, tell me who it is and how many - tell me everything, and don’t lose any time about it. You heard me?”
    Faintly, there came the response.
    â€œI’m on my way.”
    â€œHallo Rolly,” Cyrus Day said, back into the telephone. “Be sensible for once and give Legs time to get there so that you’re covered all the way. You’ll need to be. You can do two things, right now. Order your funeral service or go back to London.” There was still a chuckle in his voice. “Or you could if you were any other man! Now, what’s this about a girl you want to hide?”
    â€œI just want her somewhere safe.”
    â€œYou have a word with Legs, as soon as he arrives,” said Day. “Have him take the girl to the Belle Hotel, out on Riverside Drive. That’s where most of our operatives live if they’re not married, and she’ll be as safe there as she will anywhere in New York. She’ll get good service, too; it’s small, but we look after our clients. Leave all decisions to Legs. If he says you shouldn’t go with her, don’t go with her. Understand that?”
    â€œPerfectly,” the Toff said humbly. “I’m sorry that I brought dynamite with me.”
    â€œYou didn’t bring dynamite, you brought the hydrogen-bomb plant,” Cyrus declared. “What other little things would you like me to do for you?”
    Rollison chuckled.
    â€œSomething misfired in East 13th Street, out near the East River Parkway - I don’t know whether a thing called Cadey - Al Cadey - has been found yet. And two men should have been taken to hospital by a cabby named Sikoski.”
    â€œTwo hospitalised - not Dutch Himmy’s men?” That possibility seemed too much even for Cyrus Day; he almost screeched.
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” said Rollison solemnly.
    Day said: “Okay, I’ll see what I can do; but I don’t know that I’ll have all the information you want by the time we meet for lunch. Don’t come here; I’ll meet you at Keane’s.”
    â€œChop house?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThat sounds like real food, and I’ve never been so near malnutrition,” declared Rollison. “Cy, there’s just one other little thing you might start for me.”
    â€œLittle?” echoed Day, suspiciously.
    â€œOh, I don’t think it’s very much. Give me a build-up. Can you? Tell the news-hounds I’m here, give them some of the balderdash about being Britain’s Ace private eye, East Enders in terror - you could even tell them about my trophy wall. Didn’t you have some pictures when you were in London? That’ll fetch ‘em, if anything will. And a picture of Jolly, the last of the gentlemen’s gentlemen - he sends his good wishes, by the way.”
    â€œGood wishes is exactly what I need,” Day said, feelingly. “I think I understand. You’d like Dutch Himmy to get the build-up?”
    â€œWould it do any harm?”
    â€œNo,” said Day, slowly. “No, I guess not. Especially if I say that you always work in the closest co-operation with the police.” There was another pause. “Sure, I’ll fix it, Rolly; maybe it will be a good idea.”
    â€œFine. Charge all expenses to . . .“
    â€œOh, forget it. I owe you at least a hundred thousand dollars for the way you helped me in London, and . . .“
    â€œTo Wilfred and Valerie Hall,” finished Rollison.
    â€œHall,” echoed Cy Day. “You got that, Miriam? Wilfred and Valerie - hey! Rolly! Do you know what you’re saying? Wilfred Hall? Why, he’s just bought the Atyeo Building, right here. The third highest in New York. He”
    â€œHe’s just got himself kidnapped by Dutch Himmy,” said the Toff.
    This time the pause