Trading Secrets

by Jayne Castle

  “That’s what he promised.”

  “Brad seemed worried when we left the house last night,” Alex murmured, picking up the feather duster and going to work. “It took him a while to relax. I was beginning to think it had all been a mistake, but he settled down a bit after I fed him.”

  Sabrina’s mouth curved wryly. “Brad was afraid to leave me alone.”

  “Because he feels he’s supposed to take care of you?”

  “Not exactly. He feels he should chaperone me until his father gets home. Poor boy. He was afraid I had a hot date planned for last night.”

  Alex looked at her speculatively. “Instead you sat at home with a glass of wine, a mystery novel, and a macaroni-and-cheese TV dinner.”

  Sabrina’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I’m getting tired of people going through my kitchen garbage!”

  “I noticed the carton while I was standing at the sink trying to get the parking-lot dirt out of my tie. Sorry about that. I guess I was a little curious myself “

  Sabrina glowered at him. “Well, now that everyone’s curiosity has been satisfied, I suggest we let the subject drop.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Alex drawled in his best Texas accent. He went back to dusting the small metal boots. “You know, looking at twenty pairs of bronzed cowboy baby shoes reminds me of something.”

  “Bronzed cowboy babies?”

  Alex shook his head. “It was dark in the parking lot last night and everything happened very fast, but there were a couple of odd things about the clothes those two idiots in the pickup were wearing.”

  “Trust you to notice fashion details even under trying circumstances.” Sabrina laughed.

  “Seriously. They weren’t wearing boots, for one thing. Have you ever heard of a redneck going out without his boots?”

  “No boots? What did they have on? Sneakers?”

  Alex still didn’t smile, he seemed to grow more thoughtful. “No, they were wearing regular men’s dress shoes. Straight from J. C. Penney’s. And I don’t recall any flashy buckles on the belts, either. Big cowboy hats, jeans, plaid western-style shirts, but no boots or fancy belts.”

  Sabrina tilted her head to one side. “Think you would recognize them if you saw them again?”

  “Maybe. Probably not. It all happened very fast, Sabrina. I only noticed the boots because when I realized things were going to get nasty one of the factors I was worried about was getting kicked. I wanted to stay clear of their feet. But they didn’t use them. The belts I’m not absolutely certain about. I just don’t recall any big metal buckles shining in the moonlight. You know how those rednecks love their boots and buckles. They all like to pretend they just got in off the rodeo circuit.”

  “I sense a certain degree of bigotry going down here.”

  “I was definitely feeling prejudiced last night,” Alex admitted.

  Sabrina shook her head in mock dismay. “Up until last night I thought you were different, Alex. Civilized, sophisticated, debonair; a true modern gentleman.”

  “I am,” he defended, looking crushed. “It’s not my fault that I am forced by life’s unfair circumstances to work in this sleazy little souvenir shop. A temporary situation, I’m sure.”

  “And what about this business of getting involved in a parking-lot brawl?” Sabrina demanded.

  “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “Well, what can you expect? I’m a man.”

  “Excuses, excuses!” Sabrina stepped around the counter and hugged him quickly. “But thanks for protecting Brad last night.”

  ***

  Matt sent the message to Valdez via the hotel maid who had carried the others. She was intensely loyal to the cause, Valdez had said, and could be trusted implicitly. Having set up the rendezvous, Matt walked down the street to Coyne’s hotel and went straight up to the little man’s room, not bothering to take any precautions against being seen.

  Coyne’s voice sounded impatient as he called through the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “August.”

  The door was yanked open and Coyne stood frowning at him. “You know you’re not supposed to just casually walk into the hotel and up to my room. The other night when you sneaked in the back way with Arthur was risky enough, but this is intolerable.”

  “Intolerable is a good description of the whole situation.” Matt stepped around his unwilling host. “I want some answers, Coyne.”

  “About what? I’ve answered a number of questions for you already. Far more than you should have asked. And while the room has been electronically swept for bugs, one can never be absolutely positive.”

  “Then let’s go outside.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Let me make my position clear, Coyne,” Matt said in a low but clear tone. “I’m getting nervous. The last time I felt like this I walked into an ambush. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.”

  “You’ve agreed to the project!” Coyne replied abruptly, eyes flaring for an instant with a quickly suppressed anger.

  “As long as it’s conducted my way. Too many things aren’t going my way, Coyne. There was that incident with your man the first night and there’s the matter of the timing.” Matt left out the other details that were bothering him, such as an intercepted message to Flores de Noche and an instinct that everything was coming apart at the seams.

  “We have discussed that,” Coyne reminded him. “I’ve told you why I’ve scheduled the shipment for the same night as the, uh, work to be performed.”

  “I want the shipment brought in next week.”

  “Utterly impossible.”

  Matt didn’t pause. He turned on his heel and walked straight back to the door. “Then find yourself another go-between.”

  “August!”

  Matt glanced back over his shoulder. “Forget it, Coyne. I don’t take orders anymore.”

  Fury swirled in Coyne’s normally neutral eyes. His mouth pursed tightly and his whole body went rigid. “Oh, yes, you do, Matt August. You most certainly do. That is, if you wish to see your son again when this project is done.”

  Matt felt the room grow cold and still in spite of the sweltering humidity. He didn’t move while he assimilated the news. Should have paid attention to my instincts earlier, he thought remotely. Or paid attention to Sabrina’s.

  “The boy won’t be harmed. Not as long as you follow instructions.”

  Coyne’s chin lifted challengingly. He wasn’t completely calm about all this, Matt thought. He knew that the blackmail threat might be a personally risky move. But he was certain he could enforce it.

  Matt said nothing, waiting. The hand at his side pulled slowly into a tight fist and then stretched out, finger by finger.

  “Taking the boy is only a precaution to ensure your cooperation.”

  “And Sabrina?” The question was a knife edge of sound.

  “We didn’t want to be bothered dealing with her, too. We left her alone. She’s been told that your son is safe with his mother.”

  Matt looked down at his hands and then up to meet Coyne’s gaze. “You know I’ll kill you if either Sabrina or Matt is hurt, don’t you?”

  “Come, come, Mr. August, there’s no need for threats. The boy will be fine. I only had him picked up because you were starting to display a certain unwillingness, shall we say, to carry out the agreed-upon services. I’m paying a great deal of money for your talents. I want my money’s worth.”

  “Where’s Brad?’

  “You surely don’t expect me to tell you, do you?”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. There seems to be some trouble with the local phone company. No long distance calls off the island are going through.”

  Matt walked over to the phone beside the bed and picked up the receiver. “I want to call Dallas, Texas,” he demanded as the hotel operator came on the line.

  “Not possible, senor,” the operator cheerfully replied around a mouthful of gum. “Long distanc
e facilities are not functioning today.”

  “When will they be functioning?”

  “Quien sabe?” The shrug of indifference was clear in her voice.

  Matt let the receiver drop back into the cradle and then he walked past Coyne to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Coyne snapped.

  “Out.”

  “That’s not an answer!”

  “That’s what my ex-wife used to say.”

  “Come back here, August. We must talk.”

  “I’ll get back to you later, Coyne.” Matt shut the door behind him and left the hotel. This time he did take a few precautions, but not because he was worried about Estes’s men seeing him and drawing conclusions. This time he was protecting himself from Coyne’s men.

  When it came right down to it, Matt realized grimly, the most annoying complication in this whole affair was Coyne. Once again his hand tightened and relaxed. He was conscious of the weight of the knife hanging on his belt.

  En route to the shrine that night Matt drew on every skill and instinct he had to snake certain he wasn’t followed. Valdez was waiting, puffing languidly on one of his endless cheroots. His dark eyes were alive with curiosity when Matt stepped out of the jungle.

  “You move like a cat, my friend. I could use you here on Buena Ventura.”

  Matt shook his head. “Believe me, Ramon. Right now I’m the last person you need. I’m recommending you pull out of the deal with Coyne. There’s something screwier than hell about it. Probably a setup.”

  Valdez received the information in thoughtful silence. “A setup,” he repeated finally. “An ambush?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I only know Coyne’s operating way outside the book and he was always such a great one for going by the book. He’s got my kid, Ramon. And I’m worried about what he might have had done to Sabrina. Because I don’t think she would have let Brad go easily, not without some proof that he was in safe hands. It’s natural for her to question anyone who tries to tell her what to do. Supposedly she’s being told my ex-wife has taken him back. But she knows the situation between Ginny and Brad. She’d wonder what was going on. God only knows what Coyne would have had done if she got difficult about giving up Brad.”

  “You’re very sure she would have been, er, difficult?”

  Matt’s mouth twisted sardonically as he thought about Sabrina. “She can be very difficult under certain circumstances.”

  “Brad might have been taken when she wasn’t around to protect him,” Valdez noted.

  “Possibly. I can’t find out a damn thing because there’s no long distance working on this rock.”

  Valdez nodded. “Estes has complete control of the lines. He can have all communication not only monitored but shut off whenever it suits him.”

  “Estes.” Matt sat down slowly, considering that. “Estes controls the phone service.”

  “Along with everything else.”

  “Estes controls communication on the island and today that system isn’t working. This happens to be a day when Coyne would prefer that it not work.”

  Valdez slid him a sidelong glance, chewing reflectively on the cheroot. “An unfortunate coincidence?”

  “What do you think?”

  “In our business you learn to be suspicious of unfortunate coincidences, Matt.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” Matt sat silently for a few moments longer. “You’ll call off the operation?”

  “With great regret,” Valdez said simply. “I guess there will be no shortcuts to victory after all. How much is this costing you, Matt?”

  “An obscene capitalistic amount,” he growled wryly.

  “A hundred thousand?” Valdez hazarded.

  Matt turned his head to stare at him. “Is that what I should have asked?”

  “Sounds like a nice round number.”

  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I’m not sacrificing a hundred grand on this deal.”

  “One must look on the positive side.”

  “Right now I’m going to have to look on the practical side.”

  “You will need a way off the island. I can provide that.”

  “Via the same fisherman who was supposed to be taking my message to Flores de Noche?”

  Valdez shook his head benignly. “The fisherman who betrayed us has suffered a most unhappy, accident. He is now among his fish. No, this time I will make absolutely certain you are in good hands. When do you wish to leave?”

  Matt considered the matter. “There is a small chore I must see to first.”

  “Of course,” Valdez said politely. “Do you want help?”

  “I can handle Coyne. Let’s set my departure for three A.M.”

  “Fine. There’s a cove a mile east of the city. A boat will be waiting at three A.M.”

  “Thanks, Ramon.” Matt got to his feet.

  “No, my friend, it is I who should be thanking you. I was right to insist that you be the go-between, wasn’t I? I knew that with you there would always be more than money involved. I knew that when we were students together. Some things don’t change.”

  “And some things do,” Matt said, thinking of the future he was fighting to save. “I’ll be in the cove at three A.M.”

  Coyne would be feeling safe now, Matt decided as he drove back to the city. The little man would be convinced that he had everything under control. Men such as Coyne were accustomed to deluding themselves into believing that as long as matters were well planned, they were under control. Bureaucrats seemed to have no notion of just how naturally things could go wrong in the field.

  Matt left the jeep behind a rundown shack a few blocks from Coyne’s hotel. It was almost midnight. Moving swiftly through the deserted streets, he crossed the parking lot behind the hotel and leaped lightly up onto the railing around the ground-level balcony. Then he reached for the bars around the balcony on the next level and hauled himself upward. The realization that the task wasn’t as easy as it would have been a few years ago made him grimace. He was getting too old for this sort of thing.

  Within a few minutes he was standing on the fourth-floor balcony outside Coyne’s room, breathing a little more heavily than he would have liked. But at least he was there, Matt told himself. The lock on the door gave easily under the gentle probing of the length of wire he had extracted from his pocket. Matt stepped inside. Coyne was asleep on the bed.

  Twin shadows blocked the stream of light showing under the hotel door that opened out onto the corridor. Someone was standing guard outside the room. So Coyne wasn’t totally confident about the situation, Matt decided. It would be interesting to know if the guard was Arthur or one of Estes’s men. In the long run it probably didn’t matter. He stepped over to the bed.

  Coyne awoke with a jerk, opened his mouth to shout, and found a washcloth shoved inside. Then he felt the knife at his throat. Eyes widening in the darkness, he stared up at Matt.

  “We’re going to finish the conversation we started earlier,” Matt said softly. “In the bathroom. The guard outside is going to think you’re taking a late-night shower. Tourists do that in these humid countries, you know. The air conditioners so seldom work properly. Get up.”

  Coyne obeyed slowly, his eyes never leaving Matt’s face.

  “Nice pajamas,” Matt whispered, eyeing the red-polka-dotted garments. “They suit you. Wait a second.” Coyne halted abruptly as Matt paused in front of the closet. Reaching inside, he found one of Coyne’s neckties. “This will do.” Matt quickly pulled the tie around Coyne’s mouth, making a plug of the washcloth. Then he knotted the expensive length of silk behind the other man’s head. “Now we need a few sheets of paper and a pen. Let’s see if you’ve got anything useful in this briefcase.”

  He set the briefcase down on the tile floor of the bathroom and reached out to turn on the shower full blast. The roar of water made it possible to speak in a more normal tone without being heard by the guard in th
e hall. Coyne stood in his bare feet, his eyes half fearful, half infuriated. Matt ignored him while he opened the briefcase with the thin length of wire.

  For a long moment Matt stared at the contents of the leather case—exactly what he had been hoping to find. Then he picked up the gold-plated pen inside. The stationery in a pocket was engraved.

  “Shame on you, Coyne. This is definitely not government issue.” He pulled down the lid of the toilet and placed the sheet of paper and the pen on top. “Now let’s communicate.” He lounged against the sink and motioned with the tip of the knife. “Kneel down in front of the john. You can write better that way.”

  Coyne hesitated and then flung himself down on his knees. Seizing the pen, he scrawled furiously. Matt glanced over and read the few words.

  “I won’t get away with this? How trite.” Matt laughed. “Mr. Coyne, I am getting away with it. Let’s not waste valuable government time on melodrama. We’re both practical men. And I think you can guess what my first questions are going to be. Who picked up Brad and where are they holding him?”

  Defiantly Coyne shook his head. He reached for the gold pen and wrote quickly. Matt read the words and sighed. “I don’t know whatever gave you the idea that I wouldn’t stoop to torturing a government official.”

  Coyne scribbled hurriedly.

  Again Matt read the words with a rueful movement of his head. “Code of honor? Coyne, old pal, I hope you’ll understand when I explain that I don’t subscribe to any code of honor that covers the treatment of vermin like yourself. Let’s get on with the answer game.”

  Coyne shook his head furiously in mute denial. Matt regarded the razor-sharp edge of the knife.

  “I think,” Matt said calmly, “that you’d better step into the tub. Things will stay cleaner that way.”

  Three hours later Matt was waiting in the cove when the small boat without any running lights purred softly toward shore. Wading out into the shallow sea, Coyne’s briefcase held over his head, Matt swung himself on board.

  “Valdez? I had a hunch you’d show up to wish me bon voyage.”

  “You’re my friend, a guest on my island. Sit down. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. Nice night for a cruise, isn’t it?” He reached inside the cockpit locker and removed a bottle, ignoring the silent man who was piloting the craft. He uncorked the bottle and passed it to Matt. “I thought you might need this.”