Read SSC (1950) Six Deadly Dames for Free Online

Central, Donahue handed the driver fifty cents, dropped off before the cab stopped, galloped on the sidewalk and shoved in through heavy swing-doors.
    When he reached the rotunda of the upper level Alfred was at the other end heading into a passageway at a fast walk. When he saw Donahue he broke into a run, took the underground entrance to the Commodore, came out into Forty-second Street and headed east at a fast walk. Donahue made him break into a run again, and they raced east past the News Building.
    Alfred winged a taxi at Second Avenue. Donahue stopped on the corner and watched the taxi speed south. A minute passed before he hailed one swinging out of Forty-second Street, and when they were under way the other cab was three blocks beyond. An Elevated train was crashing southbound overhead. The taxi that Alfred had taken slewed into the curb at the Thirty-fourth Street Elevated station, and Alfred leaped out, darted up the stairway as the train was pulling in alongside the platform.
    Donahue leaned forward and said, “Shoot down to Twenty-third Street.”
    “Listen, boss-”
    “No fireworks-honest, buddy,” Donahue said.
    Taxi sped southward between steel Elevated pillars. Train sped southward overhead. At Twenty-third Street the Elevated swings east for a block, then south again on First Avenue. Between Second and First Avenues is the Twenty-third Street station. Donahue's taxi reached it four blocks ahead of the train. Donahue got out, paid up, climbed the staircase and stood behind a partition at the platform exit.
    The train pulled in slowly after having made the turn. It was pretty empty. Train gates opened-closed. Quick footsteps sounded on the platform. Alfred appeared, strode past the partition behind which Donahue crouched. Donahue took a fast step after him and said:
    “All right, Alfred-quiet, now!”
    Alfred stopped short when Donahue poked a gun muzzle against Alfred's back.
    “Hands out of pockets,” Donahue said.
    Alfred took his hands from his pockets. Donahue frisked with his left hand, said, “Turn around.” Alfred turned around, his small face white and breathless. Donahue reached inside Alfred's ulster, drew a pistol from the ulster's inside pocket. There was a silencer attached. Donahue shoved gun and silencer into his own inside pocket. His mouth was tight, a windy look was in his eyes.
    “Now, you-we'll go places,” he said.
    “Listen, Donahue-”
    “Down those steps, sweet man-and a wisecrack out of you and I'll break your jaw. Get!”
    He grabbed Alfred's arm, walked him rapidly down the staircase. Alfred was like a man in a daze. He kept on trying to say things but somehow he seemed unable to utter a word.
    But finally he said, “Where-are we going?”
    “Ever hear of a dick named Roper?”
    Alfred winced. “You mean-Bat Roper?”
    “They tell me he bats hell out of guys.”
    Alfred dragged to a stop. “Gripes, Donahue-”
    “You're such a red-hot, though, that maybe he won't have to bat you. Quit stalling! Come on!”
    Alfred hung back, setting his small mouth firmly. Three men were coming up Second Avenue.
    Donahue rough-housed Alfred. “Damn you-”
    Alfred leaped at Donahue yelling, “Help! Help!”
    “You-!” Donahue snapped.
    Alfred clawed at him, yelling for help, struggling frantically. The three men broke into a run, shouting. They were big men-East Siders. Donahue clouted Alfred on the head with his gun. Alfred screamed. The three men came up yelling.
    Donahue shouted, “Stay off, you guys!”
    Alfred buried his teeth in Donahue's arm. Donahue kicked Alfred's shins. The three men landed on Donahue and whaled him with hard fists. Alfred broke away, raced down Second Avenue.
    Donahue shouted, “You fools, that's a killer! I'm a cop!”
    “Yeah, you're a cop!”
    “Damn your souls, clear out!” Donahue roared. He whipped his gun back and forth, laying open a cheek; : plunged through the men, streaked off after Alfred. Alfred swung west into Twenty-first Street.