The Darkest Hour 1
The Darkest Hour 1
The Darkest Hour 1
S
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TEVE RETNICK'S release from Sing Sing
caused only a brief and seemingly casual stir
of interest in the file room of the Thirty-first
Detective Squad. Three men were present when
man; he was called Hammy, and before showing up
on the waterfront he had made his living as a spar-
ring partner, a punching bag for fighters who had
some brains as well as bulk. Retnick wasn't inter-
night. He never got home. I've talked to his wife.
She says he was in a good mood when he left
for work."
"Why should he up and disappear?" Moran said.
Sergeant Miles Kleyburg, after a glance at his ested in him, so he turned and walked slowly to The big man in the camel's-hair coat rapped on
desk calendar, said, "Today's the day. You think the bar. the bar. "What do I have to do for a drink?"
he'll come back here?" Tim Moran looked up from a glass he was pol- Moran smiled quickly. "What'll it be?"
Lieutenant Neville stood in the doorway of his ishing and a surprised smile spread slowly over his "Whisky all round," Hammy said, staring at
private office packing a short black pipe. "You're small red face. "Steve! Welcome back, boy. You've Retnick. "Give your friend one too. He looks
talking about Steve," he said, and walked to the not changed at all." like he could use it."
wide, dirt-streaked windows that overlooked the This was almost true; the five years in jail hadn't
river. Lighting his pipe, he stared without enthusi-
asm at the cold, gray view. Gulls stood out brightly
against the swollen, soot-dark river.
marked him physically. The planes of his dark face
were sharp and hard. There was no gray in his
close-cut black hair, and his body was tough and
W HEN the drink was set before him, Retnick
studied it for a moment. The room was silent,
and then Retnick finally lifted the glass and nodded
"I don't know about Steve," Lieutenant Neville flexible. But there were changes. . . . to Hammy. "Thanks," he said, and the curious
went on. "He'll want to know about Ragoni. I "Five years older," Retnick said, pushing his hat little interval of tension dissolved. Hammy began
hope—" Shrugging, he said, "He'll do what he a bit higher on his forehead. talking to the dock workers again, and Moran
wants." Moran looked into his eyes then and saw the leaned closer to Retnick.
"I'll be glad to see him," Kleyburg said. change in the man. He said uneasily, "Well, let's "Watch yourself with Hammy, Steve," he said.
Neville glanced at him. "I will too," he said, and celebrate, Steve. What'll it be?" "He's mean."
went back to his office. "Nothing," Retnick said. "I'm looking for "Who's he working for?"
The third man in the room, a detective named Frank Ragoni." "Nick Amato."
Connors, stretched and got to his feet. He was a "Steve, I haven't seen him for a week.'" "I picked up that drink too fast," Retnick said.
tall young man with even features and wavy blond "Have you heard any talk about where he "Is Amato still riding high?"
hair. Except for excellent clothes, there was noth- might be?" "The men in his local stick behind him."
ing distinctive about his appearance. "I'm going "Not a word. I'd like to help. I know you were "Do they have a choice?"
out for a few minutes," he said cas\ially. good friends, but . . ." He shrugged. Moran began to polish the shining surface of the
Sergeant Kleyburg, a heavily built man with "A week ago, Ragoni finished his shift at mid- bar. "I sell beer, Steve. To anybody who wants it.
thin white hair and horn-rimmed glasses, nodded night," Retnick said. "He was working at Pier I don't take sides in union politics. You know
briefly. There was no expression at all on his Five, in the hold of a North Star Lines ship that how it is." {Continued on page 41)
tired, solid face.
Connors went downstairs and crossed the mean
slum street to a small candy store. He walked back
to the telephone booth and dialed a number. When
a voice answered, he said, "Mr. Amato? I just ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK McCARTHY
thought I'd remind you. Steve Retnick is out to-
day." Listening then, he smiled faintly. "Sure,"
he said, "I'll find him. I'll take care of it."
Outside, a cold wind swept down the cross-tovra
block. Connors turned up his collar and hurried
toward the station.
But Steve Retnick didn't return that day or the
next. And along the waterfront and in certain
police stations there were men who waited un-
easily for him.
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"I didn't want a divorce,"
Marcia said. "I wanted to
wait for you." Retnick said
evenly, "And did you wait?
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30
IKE'S
^^ta^Qmeff By ALFRED M. LANSING
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ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED