The Poisoners

by Donald Hamilton

  She didn’t move at all for a long moment. Then she released me and took one step backwards.

  “What is this?” Her voice was hard. “What are you, a queer or something?”

  “Now, now, Bobbie,” I said. “Keep it clean. You know what I am: I’m a government man. And you know what you are: you’re a girl who’s been planted on a government man to find out exactly what he does with the information he’s been carefully fed—to find out, and to pass the dope along to some guys, three at the last count, so they can act accordingly.” I grimaced, dramatizing my indignation. “Jesus, don’t you West Coast people have one original idea among you? It’s been plant-a-dame-on-Helm week ever since I got out here!”

  Bobbie Prince drew a long breath and started to say something, but changed her mind.

  I said, with an anger that wasn’t altogether faked: “Did you really think I’d buy that ancient routine, you pretending to be so concerned about the way those nasty big men were hitting poor little me, and getting yourself violently slapped around as a result? Did you think I’d buy it after just having had Beverly Blaine pretend to be violently kidnaped for my benefit—not to mention the last spectacular act she put on for me? My God, I’m in the business, Bobbie; I work here! Do you know how many times that turkey’s been tried on me? Hell, even my own side, such as it is, has been parking stray females in my hip pocket! And that creaky old seduction bit: look-at-pretty-little-me-all-naked-and-desirable? What do you people think I am, a kid who’s never seen a woman with her clothes off?” I sighed, like a man at the end of his patience. “For Christ’s sake go cover it up before it freezes, Bobbie. Some day when I feel like it, and if you feel like it, I’ll be very happy to go to bed with you—I’ve been looking for a tall girl to love and cherish and maybe you’re the one—but I’m damned if I’m going to do it right before lunch just to oblige a precious little fat man named Tillery.”

  “Well, actually it was Mr. Sapio’s idea. Tillery’s mind doesn’t work quite that way, if you know what I mean.” Bobbie’s voice was low but steady. She started to say more, but changed her mind once again. She turned and walked to the closet and opened the door. Then she pressed her forehead against the jamb and stood there for several seconds without moving. “That’s… that’s quite a whip you carry, Mister. And you sure know how to lay it on.”

  “You had it coming. Put on a dress or something and I’ll take you to lunch.”

  She didn’t seem to hear. “I ought to be mad,” she said. “A woman’s supposed to be furious when her lily-white body’s been cruelly rejected, isn’t she?”

  “Whose lily-white body?” I asked.

  Still without turning her head, she said, “Either you’re kind of a sweet guy who can’t bear to take advantage of a girl, and then roars like hell to cover up his sentimentality, or you’re a calculating sonofabitch who’s trying to promote something by—”

  I said, “I’m not a sweet guy. Take it from there.”

  “What do you want, then? What do you want that you couldn’t have got by kidding me along, by letting me think you were a sucker for my charms, as the saying goes?”

  She wasn’t dumb. I hesitated briefly, because it was still a big gamble; then I said, “I want three things. They’re called Sapio, Tillery, and Jake. If they’ve got friends here, I want those, too.”

  “Oh, Christ,” she said softly. “How did I ever get into this?”

  I said, “I don’t see you getting into anything, not even a dress. Put something on and let’s eat.”

  “Why should I double-cross them for you?”

  I said, “Hell, I don’t know. Because they didn’t really ask whether or not you wanted to play in this game in the first place? Did they? Because you want out and maybe I can get you out? Maybe—that’s not a promise. Or just because I’m a calculating sonofabitch who needs your help?”

  “Help to do what?”

  “Cut it out,” I said. “Would it make any difference to you if I gave you a long patriotic spiel about the vital importance of my government mission, or lectured you on all the poor victims who’ll become helpless slaves to the demon dope if Frank Warfel has his way? You don’t look like a great patriotic humanitarian to me, sweetheart. Excuse me if I’m wrong.”

  I heard her laugh abruptly. Then she’d pulled a short, fuzzy robe from the closet and wrapped it around her; and she was coming back across the room to me. She stopped in front of me and, working deliberately, buttoned my shirt up and tucked it in all around while I stood without moving. Then she took the gun from the table and thrust it into my waistband. Finally, she picked my coat off the floor and put it into my hands.

  “I don’t promise anything,” she said. “I don’t promise a damn thing. Those guys scare the hell out of me. You know what happens when you double-cross them.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I won’t be able to protect you indefinitely. Right now, maybe, but in the long run, unless I can make a deal for you somehow, you’ll just have to take your chances.”

  She frowned. “There you go again,” she murmured. “Damn you, why don’t you lie to me a little, and tell me how safe I’ll be if I cooperate, with you and the government looking after me. Why be so damn honest?”

  “It’s all calculated, for effect,” I said. “You refuse to make love to the girl under false pretenses, you tell her the truth all the way down the line, she falls for you like a ton of bricks and does what you want, see?”

  “You bastard,” she said; “you’ve got me all mixed up. Buy me a lunch and let me think, will you?”

  17

  The dining room was a big, light barn of a place with long glass doors, now closed, showing a deserted swimming pool patio. A little steam came off the water in the pool, indicating that the air was still pretty chilly out there, despite the sunshine. Inside, the rustic tables and chairs were arranged to leave a large open space in front of the glass doors, for dancing and entertainment in the evening, but now, at noon, the place was almost empty.

  “Margaritas!” Bobbie said scornfully as I seated her at a table for two. “Darling, here I was beginning to think you might possibly be quite a guy. Don’t go and spoil it by offering me margaritas!”

  Partly, she was stalling, of course, while she tried to make up her mind, but partly she was putting on an act for Tillery and Co. If they should be watching, they’d see her making conversation vivaciously, entertaining the government boob she’d been ordered to work on, impressing him with her bright personality, making him think she was the girl for whom he’d been waiting all his life, a girl to whom he could confide his most secret hopes and fears—and his most secret information. Sitting down facing her, I played up by looking abashed at the way my suggestion had been received.

  “Why, what’s wrong with margaritas?” I asked humbly.

  “Nothing,” she said, “nothing, I suppose, if you like a tourist tipple made up of cactus juice and Cointreau—and they generally don’t even use the genuine Cointreau down here, but a local product spelled, for God’s sake, Controy!” She leaned forward and patted my hand across the table. “Don’t be like all those other bigmouth big shots, darling. Don’t try to impress me with your vast knowledge of Mexico and its products, alcoholic and otherwise. Hell, I was born in Yuma, Arizona, right on the border. I had my first slug of tequila—well, actually it was pulque, the stuff with the maguey worm in the bottom of the bottle—at the tender age of twelve. I can do the salt-and-lime bit for you like a native, and if I hadn’t already known it, I’d have learned it from all the fat and greasy business types whose hobby is hauling blondes across the border and teaching them quaint bits of local lore while pouring cheap local liquor down them to get them into the mood. Margaritas were bad enough when they were a quaint local drink; now that they’ve become a national tourist industry, to hell with them. We don’t have to play tourist, do we, darling? Let the quaint local bastards keep their quaint local salt-rimmed glasses. Just see if you can promote me a nice vodka martini,
will you?”

  It was quite a speech, and quite a vivacious performance went with it, but I didn’t pay too much attention since I knew it wasn’t really aimed at me. I didn’t glance around the room to see if any likely targets were visible. I just sat there smiling and looking attentive, I hoped, maybe even fascinated, amorously enthralled, while I wondered what she could tell me if she decided to tell me anything, and what I’d do about it if she did.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, of course, sweetheart.”

  Since we didn’t seem to be getting much action from the restaurant staff, I rose and walked over to the circular bar at the end of the room, returning with two vodka martinis, one of which I placed before my blond companion. She gave me a pretty smile of thanks.

  “You’re a darling, darling,” she said fondly. “But tell me, honestly, why the hell should I stick my neck out for you?”

  She was now wearing a sleeveless dress of yellow linen with a gaudy silk sash for a belt and hardly any skirt to speak of. I noted that she was another pant-stocking girl. Well, with that abbreviated dress, she pretty well had to wear tights, since practically everything showed when she sat down. I’m not usually so sharply conscious of these matters, although I seldom overlook them entirely. I guess I was feeling a few twinges of regret for a missed opportunity. It seemed that, like it or not, I was over my period of mourning for Annette O’Leary; I was no longer in a chaste and continent mood.

  I sat down and tasted my cocktail, not bad, but actually I kind of enjoy a margarita once in a while. However, I wouldn’t have spoiled Bobbie’s act for the world. “Honestly?” I said. “You put me on the spot, doll.

  Honestly, I can’t think of a single damn reason why you should stick out your neck for me.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you take the ticket that was offered and go along for the ride? I mean, you haven’t really got a conscience about tricking a girl into bed, have you? Particularly when she asks for it like I did. If you’d played along, you might have learned something, or overheard something.”

  “Learned what?” I asked. “As long as you thought I was just a sex-mad sucker, you’d have been damn careful not to let me learn or hear anything I shouldn’t. I figured I’d try convincing you I was a reasonably smart guy you could trust, a guy with a few scruples, even, and see what happened. Maybe you’d see a way you could use a guy like that, for your own preservation.”

  “And are you a reasonably smart guy with a few scruples I can trust, darling?”

  I grinned. “We buried the last guy with scruples who tried to break into this business a long time ago. I think he lasted about six weeks, and only because it took that long for somebody to decide to send him out on a job. And only a fool would trust anybody in my line of work, Bobbie.”

  She sighed. “There you go again, undermining your own buildup. What the hell are you trying to do to me, anyway, get me all confused? Don’t you know I want to think of you as a knight in bright armor on a big white horse, riding to the rescue of poor little me?” When I didn’t say anything, she made a face at me and took a big gulp of vodka slightly adulterated with vermouth. “I’ve got to really know why you did it… I mean, didn’t do it. Hell, you wanted me all right, you wanted me badly. Why didn’t you just take, me and do the talking afterwards? The average guy would have figured to give the little girl a great big treat first, and she’d be his sex-slave for life, ready to risk anything for more of the same.”

  I said, “Hell, maybe I’m just an insecure, inadequate type. Maybe I don’t have quite that much faith in my virility.” I hesitated. “Do you want to know the truth?”

  “That’s what I’m asking for, isn’t it?”

  I drew a long breath, and said, “Well, the truth is…” I stopped and cleared my throat and started over: “The truth is, you looked kind of nice, kind of pretty, with that thick movie crud washed off your face. I… I just couldn’t do it to you, not like that.” There was a little silence. I went on: “You can start the laugh track any time.”

  She was looking down at her glass, twirling it between her fingers, using the long blond hair to keep me from seeing her face.

  “You’re conning me, aren’t you?” she whispered at last. “You know that’s what I’d like to think, gullible me, so you’re using it against me. Aren’t you?”

  “Sure,” I said. “A little. Naturally. How can I help it? After years of practice, how do you stop? But that was part of it, I swear it.” The funny thing was, as I’ve already indicated, I was telling the truth.

  She sighed, and lifted her glass and drained it in one motion. Setting it down gently, she said, “I can’t tell you where they are right now, Matt, if that’s what you need to know. They didn’t say where they’d be staying. But I know they figure on taking some kind of drastic action tonight, and before they do they’ll want to hear what I’ve found out about you—about what you and that female dope-agent are up to. So they’re going to call my room late in the afternoon, Tillery is. Maybe… maybe he’ll let something slip. I’ll see what I can find out for you. That’s the best I can do.” She drew a ragged little breath. “Matt?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you really want lunch?”

  I said, “Frankly, for some reason, food isn’t exactly what’s foremost in my mind at the moment.”

  She laughed softly. “In mine either. Drink your damn drink and let’s go finish what we started, before I climb the damn walls…”

  Later, much later, I woke abruptly and started to take evasive action, aware of a hand on my shoulder that might be hostile. I didn’t know, and I wasn’t about to wait to find out. Those who wait, waking up in doubt, don’t generally live very long. However, my instinctive movement just got me entangled in blinding masses of hair that had a faint, clean, pleasant smell to it and reminded me of everything.

  I sank back onto the pillow. Bobbie, standing by the bed bending over me, straightened up and tossed back the long blond hair that had fallen into my face. She laughed a bit uncertainly.

  “My God; darling, do you always wake up like that? Next time I’ll get a long fishpole and poke you from across the room.”

  She was fully dressed, exactly the way she’d left the dining room, so that for a moment I found myself wondering if anything had actually happened between us, although I knew it had. Then, as I looked at her, I saw a faint pink flush come to her suntanned face, telling me it damn well had. We’d merely managed to shed the clothes, intact and rewearable, before shedding the inhibitions.

  I said, “I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty.”

  I whistled. “I must really have been asleep. Sorry.”

  “What for? What do you think makes a girl feel more appreciated, a man who falls asleep in her arms, afterwards, or one who looks at his watch and reaches for his pants? I let you sleep as long as I dared.”

  “Dared?”

  “Well,” she said, “well, I don’t think you’d better be here when Tillery calls, do you? For one thing, if they’re watching, he may not call until he knows I’m alone.” She hesitated. “Of course, if you don’t trust me to talk to him alone…”

  I grinned. “Never talk about trust to a man in my business. I told you, we don’t trust anybody—and if we should make an exception, we certainly wouldn’t want it advertised. People might think we were getting soft, or something. Where the hell are my shorts?”

  She found them on the floor and kicked them to me. “Matt.”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be feeling pretty clever.” Suddenly her voice was cold. “Kidding the girl into helping you at the risk of her life and… and getting a little bonus besides. Pretty smart! But then, you are a pretty smart operator, aren’t you?”

  I found my shirt and put it on. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Are you having second thoughts, Bobbie? Like buying a used car: it looks good, it sounds good, but you’re not quite sure, as you drive it off the lot, that the slick sales
man hasn’t sold you a rebuilt wreck with a crankcase full of sawdust. Is that it?”

  She made a face at me. “It’s not nice to read a girl’s mind, darling. That’s exactly the way I feel. Can you blame me?”

  I said seriously, “No, I don’t blame you a bit. And you can still change your mind if you want to. And if you don’t—” I rose to zip and belt my pants, and stood facing her. “If you don’t change your mind, if you go through with this, I want one thing clearly understood: I’ve given out no guarantees. Have I?”

  She licked her lips. “No,” she said, “no, I’ll hand you that for what it’s worth. That’s what makes me feel like such a sap. I’m supposed to be a pretty sharp character myself, but here I’m sticking my neck way out for you, and you haven’t—”

  The telephone cut her short. We both jumped and turned to look at it. It rang again. Bobbie drew a long breath and reached out to pick it up.

  “Yes? Oh, yes, this is Bobbie.” She caught my eye and nodded; and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level, speaking into the phone. “Yes, of course I recognize your voice, and I’ve got something for you, but… but I can’t talk right now. Can I call you? Oh, I see. Okay, you call me. Yes, he’s in the john, but I’m not sure he… Give me ten minutes to get rid of him and ring me again, okay?”

  She put the phone down and looked at me. I grinned. “Okay, I can take a hint. Just let me get my shoes on, will you?”

  Bobbie didn’t smile. She said, “That was Tillery. I tried to get him to say where I could call him, but he wouldn’t.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I heard you. You did fine.”

  “Exactly what do I tell him when he calls back?”

  “Mostly the truth,” I said. “Tell him you wheedled it out of me that my lovely associate, the female heroin hound, is making arrangements to hit the laboratory in Bernardo, with Mexican help, as soon as Warfel has picked up his shipment and got clear out to sea again so he can’t be warned. Then she’ll head north across the border to be waiting for him when he brings the boat home. Just how she’s planning to keep him from jettisoning the evidence when she marches on board to make the arrest, I don’t know and therefore couldn’t tell you, but apparently she has some plan in mind. As for me, since my official job finished with Beverly Blaine, I’m just hanging around to give the government girl a hand if needed, meanwhile making alcoholic passes at stray blondes and talking too much about things I shouldn’t.”