The Golden Gizmo Read Online Free PDF

it-looked from it to the case. He took it in one hand and it in the other, and balanced them.
    The movement was little larger than a dime. With the things it was affixed to, the crystal and face, it weighed a "weak" five pennyweight. The case, then-the case weighed almost a full pound. There shouldn't be much more than a pound of pure gold in all of Los Angeles County-outside of government vaults, of course. And yet here was a pound of the stuff in his hand.
    He snapped the two sections of the watch back together, a tremor of excitement in his fingers, a slow grin lining his tanned jaw. In a quiet recess of his mind, the gizmo was awakening. It was kicking back the covers and reaching under the bed for its bulging kit of angles.
    So he'd picked up the watch by accident. So it didn't belong to him. So what? Maybe the chinless guy would like to claim title to it. Maybe he'd like to explain what he was doing with-well, call it by its right name-a pound of twenty-four-karat,.999 fine bullion.
    Of course, Chinless didn't look like a guy who'd make many explanations. He didn't look like a nice guy at all to tangle with. Still, he wouldn't be stupid enough to raise a stink over this. Or would he? Toddy wasn't sure-but then he'd never been a sure-thing player. This was worth gambling on; he was sure of that.
    The movement was worthless as a timekeeper. It wouldn't run more than a few hours before it gave up the ghost. It served only to disguise the true nature of the watch. And no one would take such pains, go to such expense, with only one watch. There would be other-yes, and other items besides watches. Articles that weighed many times the amount their appearance indicated. If a man could move in on a setup like that-
    Toddy paused in his scheming, listening to the chatter of the bathroom shower. The light of excitement dulled in his fine gray eyes. What was the use? What good would it do? No matter what he made it would all go the same way. Down the bottomless rat-holes which Elaine burrowed endlessly.
    …Box under his arm, he closed the door of the room and walked down the long hall to the stairs. He went out through the side entrance of the lobby, reconnoitered its smog-bound environs with a glance as deceptively casual as it was automatic. He strolled up to the corner and stood leaning against a lamppost. Ostensibly, he was waiting for the traffic signal to change. Actually, he was waiting for the man who had been lurking in the shadows of the entrance, a small man with a sunken chest and a snap-brimmed gray hat that was almost as wide as his shoulders. One of Shake's boys- a shiv artist named Donald. The man approached. He sidled up to the opposite side of the post and spoke from the corner of his mouth.
    "Let's have it, Kent. Shake ain't waitin' no longer."
    "Cow's ass?" said Toddy, with the inflection of "How's that?"
    "I'm not tellin' you again. The next time I see you, you'll have your balls in that box instead of gold."
    "Why, Donald!" said Toddy. "How would I close the lid?"
    Donald didn't answer him. Donald couldn't. Toddy's arm had curled around the post, around his head, and his nose was flat and getting flatter against the rusty iron. He mumbled, " Awwf-guho ," and managed to free the thin steel knife from its hip sheath. Toddy's arm tightened, and he dropped the knife into the gutter.
    "Now," said Toddy, "get this clear, once and for all. I'm not paying any protection-not one goddam penny. Don't try for it again. If you do… well, just don't."
    He released the little shiv artist with a contemptuous twirl. He crossed the street and vanished into the darkness without looking back.
    Milt's shop was dark, of course, but the door was unlocked. For a man in the gold racket, Milt's faith in human nature was astonishing.
    Toddy made his way down the dark aisle with practiced ease, pushed through the wicket which adjoined the jeweler's cage, and shoved aside the drapes. Milt wasn't in the living room, but an excited clamor