mg.cityofcrime-第1部分

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　CROOKS　IN　AMBUSH　
　IT　was　gala　night　in　the　city　of　Westford。　Streets　were　strung　with　brilliant　lines　of　colored　electric　lights。　Store　fronts　were　illuminated；　throwing　their　brightness　upon　festooned　posts　and　displaying　the　elaborate　decorations　of　their　own　windows。　Tourists；　driving　through　the　main　streets；　gained　the　impressions　that　this　city　of　two　hundred　thousand　was　engaged　in　celebration。
　As　the　boosters　phrased　it；　Westford　was　a　〃live　town〃　that　was　definitely　〃on　the　map〃；　the　city　attracted　visitors　from　every　town　within　a　hundred　miles。　Business　was　booming　in　Westford；　it　was　predicted　that　good　times　were　here　to　remain。　Thanks　for　the　prosperity　belonged　to　Westford's　〃live　wire　mayor〃；　Elvin　Marclot。　His　administration　was　hailed　as　the　greatest　in　the　history　of　the　city。
　There　was　one　man　who　viewed　all　this　dourly；　as　he　sat　in　a　small　ground…floor　office　that　gave　him　a　slanted　view　of　the　main　street。　He　was　a　husky；　square…jawed　individual；　with　weather…beaten　face　and　short…clipped　hair　that　was　well　streaked　with　gray。　He　was　attired　in　a　blue　uniform；　that　stretched　tight　as　he　sat　erect。　His　insignia　marked　him　as　a　lieutenant　of　police。
　Nearly　everyone　in　Westford　knew　James　Maclare。　A　veteran　police　officer；　he　had　gained　a　reputation　for　honest　and　efficient　service。　His　record　was　one　of　blunt；　painstaking　toil；　rather　than　that　of　brilliant　exploit；　yet　no　one　had　ever　said　that　Lieutenant　Maclare　lacked　brains。
　Though　slow　to　decision；　Maclare　invariably　formed　the　right　opinion。　When　matters　perplexed　him；　he　thought　them　over　and　waited　until　he　had　the　answer。
　During　that　process　he　kept　silence；　when　the　time　was　ripe；　he　acted。
　There　was　one　man　in　whom　Lieutenant　Maclare　placed　confidence。　That　man　was　another　officer；　as　straightforward　as　Maclare　himself。　He　was　Sergeant　Cassley；　Maclare's　chief　subordinate。　Together；　they　had　charge　of　the　first　precinct；　and；　of　necessity；　Maclare　frequently　told　Cassley　the　trend　of　his　half…formed　plans。　Cassley　was　Maclare's　man　Friday；　never　did　he　pass　along　a　single　word　that　he　had　heard　from　his　superior。
　
　
　TONIGHT；　Cassley　was　sitting　across　the　desk　from　Maclare；　watching　the　lieutenant　as　he　stared　from　the　window　of　the　precinct　office。　Though　slow　of　thought；　Cassley　was　positive　that　opinions　were　due。　He　was　right。　They　came。
　〃This　whole　thing　is　the　bunk！〃　announced　Maclare　suddenly；　emphasizing　his　gruff　statement　with　a　ponderous　punch　upon　the　desk。　〃Look　at　those　lights；　all　that　tinsel！　What　do　they　mean　to　Westford？　Nothing　except　trouble！〃
　Cassley　looked　puzzled。　He　was　a　bulky　man；　his　wrinkled　uniform　made　a　contrast　to　Maclare's　smooth　blue　coat。　His　beefy；　flat…featured　face　displayed　its　bewilderment。　The　sergeant　needed　more　statements；　in　order　to　grasp　the　full　import　of　Maclare's　objections。　The　lieutenant　noted　the　fact　and　formed　a　wry　smile。
　〃I　know　what　you're　thinking；　Cassley；〃　he　told　the　sergeant。　〃You've　fallen　for　the　talk　of　business　ing　into　town。　Sure！　Westford　is　prosperous。
　But　what's　e　on　with　all　this　excitement？　I'll　tell　you…a　lot　of　riffraff　who　think　that　Westford　is　the　right　spot　for　any　crooked　game　they　can　cook　up！〃
　Cassley　nodded　slowly。　He　was　tabulating　a　list　of　recent　crimes。　Maclare　was　right；　there　were　crooks　in　Westford；　plenty　of　them。　But　when　Cassley　thought　further；　his　nod　ended。　He　could　not　see　just　where　the　law　had　failed　to　battle　crime。
　〃What　about　the　Flying　Squadron？〃　queried　the　sergeant。　〃It's　been　moving　fast；　lieutenant；　ever　since　Director　Borman　organized　it。　They　were　on　the　job　quick；　those　fellows；　after　that　last　bank　robbery。〃
　〃But　the　crooks　got　away；〃　reminded　Maclare。　〃Don't　forget　that；　Cassley。〃
　〃You　can't　blame　Director　Borman　for　it。〃
　〃I'm　blaming　Kirk　Borman　for　nothing；〃　returned　Maclare；　leaning　across　the　desk。　〃You　know　what　I　think　of　Kirk　Borman。　I　say　that　he's　the　best　police　director　this　town　ever　had。　Elvin　Marclot；　as　mayor；　made　the　best　choice　anyone　could　have；　when　he　picked　Kirk　Borman　for　the　job。
　〃But　Borman　hasn't　stopped　the　rackets。　He　can't；　even　though　he's　got　full　charge　of　that　Flying　Squadron。　The　job　rests　with　precincts；　like　ours　here。　We've　got　to　raid　the　places　where　the　crooks　hang　out。　Clean　them　up　before　they　have　a　chance　to　make　trouble。〃
　Sergeant　Cassley　sat　silent。　Lieutenant　Maclare　began　to　strum　his　desk；　then　spoke　in　rueful　tone。
　〃We've　drawn　a　blank　every　time　we've　tackled　the　Club　Adair；〃　he　admitted。　〃We　know　that　Lance　Gillick　runs　it　as　a　gambling　joint；　but　when　we　blow　in；　it's　always　an　innocent…looking　night　club。　We're　going　there　again；　though；　Cassley。　Only；　first；　I'm　planning　to　hand　Lance　Gillick　a　jolt　that　he　won't　forget。〃
　〃How　will　you　manage　that；　lieutenant？〃
　
　
　MACLARE　smiled　at　Cassley's　question。　Picking　up　a　pencil；　he　indicated　an　inkwell　that　rested　on　his　desk；　drew　an　imaginary　circle　around　it。
　〃That's　Lance　Gillick；〃　stated　Maclare。　〃Working　inside　his　circle；　the　Club　Adair。　We　know　what　his　racket　is；　don't　we？〃
　〃Sure；〃　nodded　Cassley。　〃Gambling！〃
　〃All　right。〃　Maclare　began　to　tap　all　around　the　desk　with　his　pencil。
　〃Here's　a　lot　of　stores；　pool　rooms；　flop…houses…all　through　the　city。
　They've　got　slot　machines；　punchboards；　they're　running　the　numbers　racket　on　the　q。t。　The　State　has　legalized　a　lot　of　that　stuff；　neither　Mayor　Marclot　nor　Director　Borman　can　break　it　up。　But　it's　gambling；　isn't　it？〃
　Cassley　nodded。
　〃Agreed；〃　added　Maclare。　〃Therefore；　it's　a　sure　bet　that　Lance　Gillick　is　behind　it。　He's　the　big…shot　in　this　town。〃
　〃Say！〃　exclaimed　Cassley。　〃If　you　could　hook　all　that　on　to　Lance…〃
　〃It　wouldn't　do　a　bit　of　good；〃　interposed　Maclare。　〃But　I　tell　you　what　we　can　do。　Since　the　rackets　belong　to　Lance；　all　those　fellows　who　collect　on　the　machines　and　numbers　must　be　working　for　him。〃
　〃That's　sure　enough；〃　agreed　Cassley。　〃They　stick　together；　too。　They　all　hang　out　down　at　the　old　Mississippi　Hotel；　near　the　railroad　terminal。　That　hotel　is　running　wide　open；　even　though　it's　got　no　license。〃
　〃That's　just　it；〃　chuckled　Maclare。　〃So　we're　going　to　raid　it；　tonight。
　We'll　make　a　round…up　and　bring　in　that　whole　bunch　of　hoodlums。　The　only　fellow　who　could　spring　them　will　be　Lance　Gillick；　and　he　won't　dare　do　it；　because　it　would　show　that　he　was　behind　the　rackets。〃
　Sergeant　Cassley　arose；　grinning　broadly。　He　queried：
　〃How　soon　do　we　start？〃
　〃Get　the　squad　ready；〃　ordered　Maclare；　briskly。　〃Have　the　wagons　e　along　with　us。　We'll　go　out　the　back　way；　keeping　off　the　main　streets。　No　one　will　know　where　we're　bound　until　we　get　there。〃
　As　Cassley　turned　toward　the　door；　Maclare　picked　up　the　telephone。　He　made　a　brief　remark；　before　he　lifted　the　receiver。
　〃It's　a　straight　precinct　job；〃　asserted　Maclare；　〃but　we　mustn't　forget　standing　orders。　I'm　calling　Director　Borman；　to　let　him　know　that　we're　starting　out。　He　wants　it　that　way；　so　he　can　have　the　Flying　Squadron　cover　up　afterward。〃
　
　
　SERGEANT　CASSLEY　went　out　into　the　patrol　room；　closing　the　lieutenant's　door　behind　him。　He　snapped　orders　to　a　group　of　bluecoats；　paraded　them　and　sent　word　to　bring　out　the　patrol　wagons。　Lieutenant　Maclare　arrived　from　his　office；　surveyed　the　dozen　men　who　were　standing　at　attention。
　〃We're　raiding　the　Mississippi　Hotel；〃　announced　Maclare。　〃Sergeant　Cassley　will　enter　from　the　front；　with　a　detail　of　four　men。　We'll　let　them　think　it's　a　minor　raid；　whoever　es　out　by　the　back　doors　will　find　our　main　force。
　〃We'll　have　the　wagons　with　us；　to　gather　up　the　lot　of　them　when　they　reach　the　back　street。　I'll　be　in　charge　of　the　main　squad。　Further　orders　when　we're　on　the　ground。　All　right；　men。　Ready　for　inspection。〃
　Soon　the　entire　squad　was　marching　from　the　station　house；　Maclare；　at　the　head；　was　leading　the　advance　through　dingy；　poorly　lighted　alleys　that　had　been　neglected　in　Westford's　campaign　of　bigger　and　brighter　lights。　As　they　reached　a　corner；　Maclare　gave　the　mand　to　halt。　Sergeant　Cassley　told　of　his　four…man　detail。　Lieutenant　Maclare　gave　him　final　orders。
　〃Don't　get　far　inside　the　front　door；　Cassley；