Make Room! Make Room!(41)

“What do you want?”

“Let’s just for a minute think of this whole case as being inside this precinct. The kid could have come from Chinatown or from anywheres, but let’s forget about that. Say he came from Shiptown, right here, and you know how those people are about sticking together, so maybe there’s another Chink who was using the kid. Just suppose.”

“What are you trying to say, Kulozik? Get to the goddamn point.”

“I was just about to, lieutenant,” Steve said imperturbably. “Let’s say the kid or his boss comes from Shiptown. If they do we may have fingerprints on them. It was before my time, but you were here in seventy-two, weren’t you, lieutenant, when they brought all the Formosa refugees in after General Kung’s invasion got its ass blown off on the mainland?”

“I was here. I was a rookie then.”

“Didn’t they fingerprint everybody, kids and all? Just in case some Commie agent slipped in with them before the airlift?”

“It’s a long shot,” the lieutenant said. “They were all fingerprinted and so were the kids for a couple of years after that just in case they might defect. Those cards are all down in the cellar here. That’s what you were thinking about, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right, sir. Go through them and see if the prints from the murder weapon can be matched up with one of the cards. It’s a long shot, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You heard him, Rusch,” Grassioli said, pulling over a stack of reports. “Get the weapon prints and get down there and see if you can find anything.”

“Yes, sir,” Andy answered, and he and Steve went out together. “Big buddy you are,” he told Steve as soon as the door had closed. “I should be knocking off soon and instead you got me buried in the cellar, and I’ll probably be there all night.”

“It’s not that bad,” Steve said complacently. “I had to use the file once, all the prints are coded so you can get to the ones you want fast. I’d help you except my brother-in-law is coming to dinner tonight.”

“The one you hate so much?”

“That’s the one. But he’s working on one of the fishing trawlers now, and he’s going to bring a fish he stole. Fresh fish. Doesn’t your mouth water?”

“Just for a bite out of your hide, you ratfink. I hope you get a bone stuck in your throat.”

The fingerprint files were not in quite the same condition that Steve had described. Others had used them since and whole groups of cards were filed out of sequence and one entire boxful had been spilled and afterward had just been jammed back in at random. Though the basement was cooler than the rest of the building the air was filled with dust and felt almost too thick to breathe. Andy worked until nine o’clock before his head started to pound and his eyes burned. He went upstairs and put some water on his face and breathed in some fresh air. For a few moments he wavered between finishing the job or waiting until morning, but he had some idea of what Grassy would have to say about that, so he went back downstairs.

It was going on eleven o’clock when he found the card. He almost put it aside because the prints were so small, an infant’s, then he realized that children grew up and had a closer look at it through the scratched plastic magnifying lens.

There was no doubt at all. These prints were the same as the ones that had been found on the window and on the tire iron.

“‘Chung, William,’” he read. “‘Born 1982, Shiptown Infirmary …’”

He stood up so fast that he knocked the chair over. The lieutenant would be home by now, maybe in bed, and would be in a filthy humor if he was wakened. That didn’t matter.

This was it.





11


Far out in the river a boat whistle blew, two times, then two times again, and the sound echoed from the steel flanks of the ships until it had no source or direction and became a mournful wail that filled the hot night. Billy Chung rolled back and forth on his lumpy mattress, wide awake after hours of lying there staring into the darkness. Against the far wall the twins breathed hoarsely in their sleep. The whistle sounded again, beating at his ears. Why hadn’t he just grabbed the stuff and got out of the apartment? He could have done it faster. Why did the big bastard have to come in just then? It was right he should have been killed, anyone as stupid as that. It had been self-defense, hadn’t it? He had been attacked first. The same memory repeated itself again like an endless circle of film in a projector: the iron bar swinging up, the look on the fat red face. The sight of the iron sticking out of his head and the thin trickle of blood. Billy writhed, tossing his head from one side to the other, his fingers pulling at the damp skin on his chest.