Delta Factor, The (19 page)

I said, “Rosa's been killed, Art. Nothing on it yet and I haven't time to explain the details. Did she reach you?”

“Roger, Morgan. The stuff you requested is on the way. I blew a cylinder on the plane so it went out on the only boat available and you were damn lucky. Nothing's moving around here with the hurricane on the way. It will be landed at José's place and he'll get it up to you.”

“Good ...” I started to say.

“Hold it. You're getting some additional cargo besides. Your friend Joey Jolley made it down here and he's one hell of a scared boy. He wouldn't talk to me at all and insisted on seeing you so he hopped aboard the same boat too. The condition he's in I'd keep him under cover if I were you. I got the feeling he thought he was followed, and the guy who's taking the boat over told me at the last minute that somebody broke into his cabin. He had his course marked out on the chart in the pilothouse and I never gave that a thought because he said some booze was missing and it wasn't the first time it had happened.”

“Joey mention any names?”

“Not to me he didn't.”

“You sure no other boats are leaving?”

“Morg, after that last blow that ripped this place apart you couldn't get anything for hire for a million bucks. The guy coming in to you did it as a personal favor. I saved his neck for him twice. Your luck is still running if the storm doesn't hit.”

“You kidding? How the hell are we supposed to get out of here? Can't you get that plane repaired?”

“Not a chance. No parts are available locally and it will be a week before they're delivered. All I can tell you is that you might be able to take the boat back if you can move that fast. If you don't get caught in the middle of the blow you might be able to outrun or outride it. It's a pretty seaworthy job with twin diesels and the captain knows his stuff.”

“Will he stick around?” I asked him.

“I guarantee he'll wait until the last minute, but when he's ready to go he'll cut out and you'll be on your own. These guys aren't under orders these days, buddy, and he's got a wife and six kids to think of.”

“Okay, Art, keep this channel open in case I need another contact.”

“Will do. How's the project coming?”

“Change of plans. There isn't time for fancy footwork. It'll have to be a straight bust out.”

“Think you can handle it alone?”

“Hell, man, who has a choice?”

I heard his low laugh before he signed off and I flipped the power switch. When I had the antenna down and the set back under wraps I made sure Angelo was familiar with its operation, then retraced my steps outside.

For a minute I stood in the darkness smelling the night, feeling the warm, humid air touch my skin. But the warm spot between my shoulders wasn't there anymore and I knew that whoever had been tracking behind me was waiting someplace else.

At five minutes past seven we parked the truck where we had found it and went back in the way we had come out. On my floor the guard was having a gentle sleep in a sitting position on a pile of packaged laundry, and Angelo waved me on so he could awaken him.

When I opened the door I knew she had come back. The suite was steamy from the open bathroom door and the scent of perfume seemed to dangle in the air. She came out of the bedroom in a fresh dark-blue silk suit, her hair glistening blackly in soft waves down around her shoulders. I went to the radio and turned it up nearly full volume in case there were listening ears.

All I could say was, “Where the hell have you been?”

Only for a second was there a slight trace of anger, then the cold professional attitude returned and she stalked past me to the sofa and sat down. “My contact called me.”

“Damn it! How many times . . .”

She shut me up with a single look. “It was an emergency. Ortega got his man into Miami to hit the safe-deposit box we had set up. Our people closed in and got him. Unfortunately, there was an error in judgment. They didn't handcuff him and on the way out he made a break for it and got away. They think they have him holed up in a general area, but there may be the possibility that he can make contact with Ortega if they don't get to him in time.”

I got it out of my system with a few choice words, then took a deep breath to cool off. “They had to be cute about it. Damn it, they had to be cute.”

“What's done is done.”

“Don't be so smug, sugar. It's your neck too.”

“I knew the risk I was taking.”

“So did I. That's why I feel like such a sap.” I stopped and looked at her. “Where did you meet this contact?” I kept my voice at whisper level.

“Here in the hotel. He took a lower-level room like a lot of the other local businessmen are doing who have places along the beach. And don't worry about the guard. He never saw me go either way.”

“How's this guy keep in touch with the mainland?”

“He has a radio unit built into a recorder he uses for business.”

“Supposing the guy manages to reach Ortega?”

“Then we'll know about it too. The agency requested cooperation from the Naval Station at Key West to cover all frequencies in case of a transmission and relay the information to us. Since Ortega probably didn't expect this development they wouldn't have prepared a code, but in case they did the Navy will have their cryptographers ready.”

“Okay. We'll just have to go along with it. Who is he and what room is he in?”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Luis Rondo. Room 203. He's in the import-export business and has been a resident here eight years. Except for an initial police scrutiny by the police he has been accepted and runs a legitimate business at a profit. He has never been suspected of being planted here by our government. Two years ago he married a native who died a year later of cancer.”

“Good enough.”

“Now, what are your plans?” she asked me.

“First I want to clear Lisa Gordot out of here. That'll hit Sabin where it hurts and he'll split up his forces to try to scratch her out. The more we thin out that bunch the easier it'll be to operate.”

“And if it doesn't work?”

“Let's try it first. We're playing this tune by ear all the way at this point. If anybody hits a wrong note it'll get lost in the shuffle.”

With a touch of sourness she said, “That takes care of your delta business. Our primary target was Victor Sable. Or did you forget about him?”

“Stop the sarcasm,” I said. “All we can do is wait.” I filled her in on the latest details and let her absorb them. She wanted further information on Joey Jolley, but I told her it was none of her damn business and let it stand at that.

Kim wouldn't accept it that way. A wry smile twisted the corner of her mouth and she said, “You don't have to play any games for my benefit, Morgan. You've gone to some elaborate pains to make me think you were falsely accused and it isn't any use.”

“What if it were true?”

She gave a meaningless shrug. “Why think of it?” “You have a lot to learn, baby,” I told her. “Now let's finish this honeymoon farce and get it over with. If things work right tomorrow's going to be a busy day.” I walked over and turned the volume of the radio down so we could speak in normal tones again.

“Bedtime, doll?”

Her voice had a smile in it, but not her expression. “Wonderful idea,” she said. She walked into the bedroom, threw a pillow and blanket at me and shut the door.

 

In the morning no one had to check the weather advisory to know where the hurricane lay. The sky was a dismal gray and a moist breeze blew in from the tip of the island, still too languid to dissipate the oppressive heat, but it was an early warning sign that the monster was building and heading steadily in our direction.

Bags were stacked beside the hotel desk with the guests busy demanding immediate space on outgoing flights. The same crowd was still at the table gambling, committed to staying and not giving a damn what happened.

Kim and I ate a silent breakfast in the Continental Room, a sallow-faced man with a bulge of a gun showing under his too tight suitcoat occupying the next table and trying to be inconspicuous behind a newspaper. When we finished Kim announced that she wanted to do some shopping and I told her to go ahead because I wanted to try the crap table again. I paid the bill and when we got up the tail decided to stay with her, figuring there were enough of the others in the casino to keep me under their eyes.

And that was the way I wanted it. As long as I was in sight they'd hold their places and let me move around. I made a point of having them spot me without the tail, pass the word around, then wandered aimlessly from table to table making a casual play here and there without winning.

Marty Steel was still trying to beat the faro game, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He threw in his last few chips, lost, then reached in his pocket for a sheaf of bills and passed them to the dealer for another stack.

“Bad day?” I asked.

His head snapped around, startled at the intrusion, his face a strange mask before he recognized me and gave me that lopsided smile that seemed to send his jaw out of joint. “ ‘Bad' is no word for it, friend. I should have taken your advice and blown this coop. These guys are taking me broke.”

I nodded to the chips in front of him. “Better not tap your reserve.”

“Don't worry, I'm still in good enough shape. You're going to ride it out, huh?”

“I'm sure not fighting that mob at the airport.” I touched his shoulder. “See you later.”

He said, “Right,” and went back to his game.

Kim finished her shopping by two o'clock and joined me at the bar for a drink. Her tail had taken up a position at the other end, exhausted from following her on her tour. She had her arms full of packages and for the benefit of all the eyes we were nothing but a very loving couple. We held hands and kept our heads together, laughing a lot, but the talk was far from romantic.

I said, “Get up to the room and stay there until I join you. I want to set things up down here to look natural when I make my contact. When we break Lisa out we may need you for a decoy, so don't go running off.”

“Have you thought what we'll do if you get Sable out and we don't make that boat?”

“Yeah, I'll cry a lot.”

“Damn it, Morgan,” she smiled maliciously, “will you remember we're dealing with national security?”

“How can I forget it with you to remind me? I love my little parole officer, but she gets damn wearing after a while.”

Her smile thinned out and she dug her nails into the back of my hand. “Maybe I should remind you of something else. I'm authorized to kill both you and Victor Sable rather than expose this project.”

“You really that dedicated?”

Kim answered me with her eyes first, then answered truthfully, “Yes, I'm really that dedicated. And capable.” She got up with another smile, gathered up her packages, patted my cheek and walked off. Her tail seemed to sigh to himself, then slid off his stool with regret and followed her to the elevators.

The trick to faking a drunk at a crowded bar was simply being a roving conversationalist, buying a lot of drinks, but leaving them standing untouched as you hopped around. If you ordered the same drink as the person you talked to and scooted off, he invariably drank it himself and not even the bartender got wise.

I took my time building the act, watching the hours roll by on my watch, getting a little louder and a lot friendlier with each drink, making a point of setting up anybody who joined the throng to a free round on me. Not even the waiters escaped my offers, though they declined politely. Twice cabdrivers came in looking for fares who had called for them and suddenly found a drink in their hands. I kept it at a level that wasn't obstreperous enough to be cut off, but enough to put the pair who were detailed to watch me at their ease, figuring a hard-spending tipsy customer was only an asset at that point.

When José came in I wasn't out of character in pulling him in next to me and calling loudly for a highball for my new buddy. When he had it in his hand I toasted him elaborately, making sure he was facing away from the watchers, and downed half my drink.

While my glass was still at my mouth I felt him slip something in my pocket and say, “There is a man with me, señor.”

“I know. Where is he?”

“Outside in the car. What is to be done with this one? He insists on seeing you.”

“Tell him to meet me right here and for Pete's sake make sure he comes in calm.”

“He is a scared man, señor.”

“So have him fake it.”

“I will try.”

“Then you get back to the boat and tell that captain to stand by as long as possible.”

“With this hurricane approaching, I would not delay too long, señor. Already all the other boats are making for safe ports.

“Sure, José. Now beat it back and make that captain wait us out.”

José's face studied me seriously. “I know whatever it is you do is for the good of our country, señor. I will do my best.

I cracked a couple of jokes he didn't get, but he caught the picture and went along with it and excused himself politely to walk away, a little man who could pass unseen in a crowd of two.

Fifteen minutes later Joey Jolley edged in the main doors, glanced around nervously until he located the bar and walked toward me like a man in a room full of tigers, his shoulders tense with fear that he repressed so hard a cold sweat glistened on his forehead.