Authors: Donald Hamilton
If I took off in high gear now, or as soon as the man with the carbine decided to move away, I could probably get clear undetected. If not, well, I had the Buck Rogers gun and my knife and revolver to fight with, and all of Baja California to hide in. That’s what I told myself, but I didn’t move.
The trouble was, there were too many things I wanted to know that I couldn’t learn by running. I didn’t know what was being brought ashore or why; I still didn’t even know for sure who was bringing it ashore. And while I was leading Warfel’s boys a merry chase through the mesquite and cactus, the big truck and its mysterious load would be disappearing into the wilds of Baja along with Mr. Soo, if it was Mr. Soo.
Strictly speaking, it was none of my business, but I couldn’t help wanting to know what this was all about—and even if I made it out of here safely and reached a phone, there was no guarantee that we’d be able to locate the vehicle again, and if we did find it, it would probably be empty. The big metal tank or cylinder that was being landed with such care and secrecy—obviously somebody considered it very important—would be missing and so would Mr. Soo, if it was Mr. Soo. And eventually, I had a hunch that was a little more than just a hunch, they would both turn up north of the border for some purpose, undoubtedly nefarious, that I still couldn’t even guess at…
The man below me was retreating cautiously the way he had come, with his shotgun in his hands. He kept turning, and swinging the muzzle around in a jittery fashion, as if his ears were playing him scary tricks. I gave him plenty of time; then I started moving along the hillside, slowly and silently, towards a point that, I figured, would put me directly below Tillery and Sapio. I mean, we don’t get paid to be stupid heroes, but we do get paid; and occasionally we’ve got to do something to earn our bread, like sticking our necks out just a little.
Down in the bay, beyond the ridge, the outboard dinghy was still wrestling noisily with its unwieldy tow, but the hillside was very quiet except for the murmur of the sea breeze in the low brush and the scattered, lonely, small trees. I froze as something dark moved by one of those trees ahead: another man, shifting position uncomfortably, as if tired of waiting.
Something gleamed in the hand that was raised to push irritably at the wide-brimmed hat… I realized that the figure was not really dark, nor was it a man. It was my ubiquitous female companion in her light jeans and shirt. Well, I hadn’t really expected her to stay where she was told.
“Quiet!” I whispered, coming up behind her. “Don’t move. Lay that pistol down, sweetheart.”
“Matt! Oh, you scared…!”
“The pistol, doll-baby,” I breathed. “No, don’t drop it, stupid. It’s only in the movies you toss firearms around like beanbags. In real life they have a nasty habit of going off… That’s right. On the ground with the safety on. Now straighten up and step away from it.”
“Matt, what in the world…?”
“You don’t follow orders very good,” I said harshly. “I told you to stay in the car.”
“I got scared. I saw some men moving this way, and I was afraid you’d be trapped up here…”
I picked up the automatic she’d deposited on the ground, and glanced at it. “A Walther, eh? Not a bad little gun. Where’d you get it?”
“It was in the glove compartment of the car. I stuck it in my pocket when I was looking for that tire gauge you wanted.” She hesitated. “May I have it back, please?”
“No,” I said. “If there’s anything that scares me worse than plague, smallpox, rabies, and Montezuma’s Revenge, it’s an amateur with a gun. Particularly an amateur who won’t obey orders.”
“I told you,” she said angrily, “I came to find you and warn you…”
“How many men did you see?”
“Just two, but…”
“We’ll worry about them later,” I said. “I’ve taken care of Jake, but his two Cosa Nostra friends are somewhere up above us if they haven’t moved. They’ve got a Thompson with a hundred-round drum if my firearms identification is correct. If I can get hold of that, a couple of goons more or less won’t matter a bit. There’s also a pair of night glasses I’d like to have the use of for about thirty seconds… I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance of your following instructions a third time, after ignoring them twice.”
“Damn you, I was trying to
help
…”
“Shh, keep your voice down. Do you think you can make a tremendous, gigantic, supreme effort and stay right here, just for a few minutes? Please? Ten minutes by the watch? Have you got a watch?”
“Yes.”
“Well, look at it. If you don’t know what the time is now, how are you going to tell when it’s ten minutes from now?”
“Darling,” she said stiffly, “darling, you’re being very objectionable…”
“Here’s the drug kit,” I said, ignoring her protest. “In ten minutes, I hope, you can come up and do your stuff just like before.”
The final stalk was no great problem. Big-town characters, accustomed to tuning out the roar of traffic and the bleat of canned music, have generally forgotten how to listen, and the two men on the crest were no exception. I got within twenty-five yards of them without eliciting the smallest sign of uneasiness. Then I aimed the Flash Gordon contraption at Sapio, since he was the man with the chopper, and switched on the beam.
The fierce little ray of concentrated light caught Sapio’s attention, all right, even from behind. I saw him start to turn his head and stop, and reach for the submachine-gun instead. I stopped that by pressing the safety of the Remington forward more sharply than necessary, making a tiny but unmistakable click.
The hooded, sharply focused light had not disturbed Tillery, off to one side, but the sound brought his head around quickly.
“Jake, what the hell…?”
“Jake’s taking a nap,” I said. “So are your other two boys, Tillery.”
“Helm? What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“I want your hand to stop moving,
amigo
. I think Mr. Sapio does, too. I don’t think he really yearns for a thirty-caliber slug through his liver.”
“Cut it out, Tillery.”
“Yes, Mr. Sapio.”
There was a faint clatter of dislodged pebbles nearby.
I stepped back into the gloom of a low evergreen, keeping the beam steady, but it was only the girl in her light clothes and big dark hat, rather breathless.
“Matt?”
“Right here,” I said. “No, don’t look at this light, it’s pretty bright. Don’t get between us. Walk around, real careful, and take care of them… Oh, just a minute. Sapio, you seem to be the man with the final authority here. What’s your full name?”
“Manuel Sapio. Why?”
The Spanish first name didn’t really belong in the company he kept—the Mafia originated in a different part of southern Europe—but his national heritage was his problem, not mine.
“I want you to listen hard, Manuel Sapio,” I said. “I know you’re a big, dangerous man, and I know you’re already thinking what you’re going to do to us by way of retaliation. I also know that when you get over your mad, you’ll be too smart to try for me—”
“You hope!”
“I don’t just hope,” I said. “I know. Your superiors in the corporation would amputate your manhood with a dull knife if you started a private feud with the U.S. Government. But it may occur to you to take it out on Miss Prince. I’ve got some advice for you: don’t do it. And don’t have Tillery or anybody else do it for you. I’m holding you personally responsible for Miss Prince’s health and safety, Sapio. Anything that happens to her, no matter who a bad accident. If she catches pneumonia and dies, you may as well start coughing, because you’ll go next. Even if she dies in childbirth, I’ll figure out some way to make it happen to you. Do you read me?” I waited briefly. He didn’t speak. I said, “Okay, Bobbie. Fix them up.”
Five minutes later I was lying on the crest with the big, seven-power binoculars at my eyes and the Thompson under my elbow—I’d set aside the rifle as less suited to the immediate situation, and also less impressive, than the chopper. There were other reasons for making the trade, but I didn’t let myself think about them. Not that I believe in telepathy, really; but I’ve found it best, when being tricky, to put entirely out of my mind just how tricky I’m being. Why take a chance of tipping off the opposition, telepathically or otherwise?
There’s no optical viewing instrument that, by itself, will put light where there isn’t any—there are some electronic see-in-the-dark systems, but that’s another story. Where there’s some illumination, however, a good pair of night glasses will brighten things up remarkably; and here I had a bit of moonlight to work with. I could see down there quite well.
I checked first on the men by the jeep, except that now there was only one man standing at the far side of the beach. The other man was gone, and so was the vehicle. I listened for a moment trying to locate it by sound, but I could hear only the murmur of the wind and the angry buzzing of the outboard motor in the bay. I focused on the lone, remaining man and saw that, as I had guessed, he was indubitably Mr. Soo, not much changed from the first time I’d seen him, or the last, except for the unfamiliar mustache. Well, I hadn’t really known him long enough for him to age perceptibly, although I’d done my best to hasten the process.
Having identified him, I swung the glasses to the bulky cylindrical object that was now being floated ashore on the pontoon raft behind the straining, racketing little outboard dinghy. Here, however, the binoculars were no help to me. The thing just looked like a big metal tank seven times closer, that was all. The way the seams ran hinted that the slightly rounded caps at the ends might be removable, but what would be revealed when they were removed, I still had no idea.
Bobbie Prince stirred beside me. “Matt?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Will you really go after Sapio if… if he has me killed?”
“Hell, no,” I said. “Why waste time, and effort on something that won’t bring you back to life? Anyway, my boss doesn’t like private vendettas, either; we’re supposed to operate strictly and solely in the national interest. If the bluff doesn’t work, I’ll come put some flowers on your grave, that’s all. But I did the best I could for you, didn’t I?”
“You were very menacing and convincing. Even if it doesn’t work, thanks for a good try.” After a moment, she asked, “Can you make out anything down there?”
“A little,” I said. “I recognize the gent standing across the way looking administrative. He’s a fairly high-powered Chinese agent specializing in scientific espionage and sabotage. There was another guy with him earlier I’m fairly sure was Willy Hansen, but he’s gone off somewhere in his jeep. I wish I knew where. I don’t like having him running loose; and I’ve got an idea about Willy I’d like to check out. And I wish I knew what Mr. Soo was doing, tied up with a bunch of dope peddlers.”
“Well, they produce a lot of drugs in China, Matt. It’s practically the home of opium, isn’t it?”
I glanced at her. “That’s a thought,” I said. “Maybe we’ve got this smuggling operation figured out all wrong, or my friend Charlie has. But if Mr. Soo is transporting any drugs from that far away—presumably with the consent and assistance of his government—it would be the concentrated heroin, wouldn’t it? He’d hardly go to the trouble of shipping a lot of inert waste material halfway around the world when he’s undoubtedly got access to refining facilities back home. But in that case, if Warfel’s arranging to obtain the pure stuff from the Chinese, I can’t see why he’d bother to set up a refining laboratory of his own here in Mexico. Unless—”
“Unless what, darling?”
“Unless that Bernardo trailer-lab is just a decoy to make our drug people
think
they’re dealing with Mexican heroin—to keep them from guessing where it’s really coming from.” I grimaced. “My badge-bearing girlfriend is going to be very unhappy with me if I’ve steered her onto a phony setup. But what about that crazy thing they’re towing ashore? I don’t know a great deal about dope, although I’m learning fast, but if that’s a load of horse in the large economy carton, I’ll eat it raft and all. Again, like the truck, it’s just too damn big. There aren’t that many poppies in all of China.”
Bobbie didn’t speak; instead she reached out her hand for the binoculars, and I gave them to her. We lay there and watched them beach the raft. Then they lowered a ramp from the rear of the van and ran out a cable from a winch somewhere inside. When they had the cylinder hooked up properly, they started winching it up the ramp with several men steadying it on either side.
“I wish to hell somebody’d tell me what that thing is!” I said irritably at last.
“Are you trying to kid me, darling? Don’t you
really
know?”
I glanced sharply at my blond companion. She’d lowered the glasses and turned her head to smile at me in an odd, speculative way. Something moved behind me, but I pretended not to hear it.
I said, “I haven’t any idea, Bobbie. Have you?”
She said calmly, “Of course. That is, I don’t know how it works, exactly, but I know it’s a Sorenson Catalytic Generator, the only one in existence at present. We’ve been running some tests on it… Please don’t move darling!” Her voice sharpened slightly. “The man behind you will shoot if you move at all. Don’t even think of using that machine-gun. Please!”
I was aware of the Buck Rogers beam that was suddenly focused right between my shoulder blades. Well, as I’d already learned, it was a tempting weapon if you needed to get the drop on a man at night: he’d certainly know when he was covered.
I said sadly, “Roberta, I am shocked and surprised. You seemed like such a nice girl!”
She ignored that, and went on: “We thought you
must
know about the generator. After all, we know you’ve had your girlfriend, as you call her, checking on Dr. Sorenson for you. What led you to him?”
“A piece in the newspaper and an itch at the back of my neck,” I said. “We secret-agent types are intuitive as hell.”
“I’m not sure I believe that answer, but I won’t worry about it now. Mr. Soo, as you call him, will question you later. Now, if you’d just roll up your sleeve…” I saw the gleam of my own hypodermic in her hand.