The Menacers mh-11

by Donald Hamilton

  He smiled gently. "I see that now, seсora. I should have anticipated it."

  There was something just a little phony about the exchange. When you came right down to it, there was something phony about the whole performance, but this was not the time to determine who was being clever about what. Carol may have sensed the false note, because she went on quickly: "When we get home, I'm going to find out just exactly what this is all about, and if it's really authorized by responsible people in Washington! I know some men who can find out for me, reporters. It looks like another one of those schemes the CIA is- always being accused of, that I never really believed in before: intriguing and interfering in countries where we've got no business…

  I said, "Take it easy, doll. Save the political harangues. Right now we'd better get the hell out of here as you suggest… What do you want?"

  Priscilla had moved up beside me. She was looking at me in a kind of expectant way. She held out her – hand. "Why, I'd like my gun back, Matt."

  I laughed at her. "You get back over there and keep your nose clean and your hands in plain sight. I don't like to be played for a patsy, Decker. Here or in Mazatlбn or anywhere." I weighed the two extra weapons in my hand, slipped Solana's under my belt, and regarded hers with a frown before stowing it away. It was a reasonably portable firearm, as revolvers go, but you could hardly call it tiny. "You didn't have this stashed away in your falsies," I said. "Where did it come from?"

  "I had it hidden under my pillow. Matt-"

  "And just why do you need a gun right now?" She shrugged. "Well, if you want to do it-" "Do what?"

  She glanced towards Solana. "Don't be silly," she said calmly. "Somebody's got to shoot him, don't they? Unless you know a better way of doing the job."

  I heard a gasp from Carol. She started to speak, but I beat her to it. "There's going to be no more shooting here tonight," I said to Priscilla. "I'm getting awfully goddamned tired of you and your white-haired smoothie of a boss and your complicated intrigues. You're going back to the States and we're going to find out exactly what's what and who's who and we're going to do it without murdering a single additional Mexican citizen, male or female, official or unofficial."

  Priscilla said coldly, "Since you put it so personally, Matt, I am getting very tired of you, too-of you, and your sanctimonious ways, and your fantastic habit of wrecking carefully laid plans that are none of your damn business. And I warn you, if you don't do exactly as you're told, your hide will be drying on a Washington fence just as soon as my white-haired smoothie of a boss can drop a word in the right ear." She jerked her head in Solana's direction. 'That man must be silenced. He must not be allowed to report what he's learned here. Either you do the job or let me do it, but it's got to be done!"

  I said, "Now that you've got all that off your chest, go over to that chair and sit down. And stay sat."

  "Matt, I promise you, if you spoil this operation for us

  "Yeah, I know. And I'll worry about my hide, later. Sit down!" I waited until she obeyed. "Carol."

  "Yes. Matt, you're not going to listen to her-"

  "Carol," I said without looking around, "please go to our room, get out my suitcase, and open it. There's a trick compartment..

  I told her how to get into the compartment, and what to get out of it. She left, admitting a brief blast of wind and sand. Priscilla was sitting on her assigned chair, glaring at me, looking cheap and sullen and disheveled with her gale-damaged hairdo hanging over her ears in loops and wisps. I remembered the slim, pretty, virginal kid who'd met me at the airport in Mazatlбn, and I couldn't help being reminded, a little, of Vadya, who'd had the same knack of tailoring, not only her costume and makeup, but her whole personality, to the character she was playing.

  Well, it was a useful knack for anyone in our line of work, but I'd obviously underestimated Miss Priss from the start. I hadn't thought she was old enough, or experienced enough, to put on so good an act- whichever Priscilla was the act. Perhaps this tough, tarty girl was the real Priscilla, and the big-eyed innocent in Mazatlбn had been the fake..

  Solana stood in the middle of the room with his hands up. Despite the awkward position, he looked nice and relaxed, and maybe even a little wryly amused at his own predicament. There were some questions I would have liked to ask him, but not before witnesses-and particularly not before the witness we had-so I didn't ask. We just waited, and presently Carol returned with a small, flat case, which she gave to me after a moment's hesitation.

  "Matt, you're not going to… to hurt him?"

  I said, "Sure I'm going to hurt him. I'm going to stick a sharp needle into him, brutally, cruelly, without anesthetic, because I'm just a sadist at heart. Shove your sleeve up a bit, Ramуn, and remember, I'm the guy who's keeping you alive. The lady over there wants you dead. So if you jump me, better make it good, because I'll throw her the gun if I can, and if she gets it she'll shoot, you know that."

  I loaded the hypo I got from the little drug case. Solana watched me in silence. When I was finished, he asked, "May I inquire what you are planning to give me?"

  "About four hours' sleep," I said. "You'll feel a little groggy when you wake up, but it'll wear off fast."

  Priscilla stirred. "Matt, so help me, if you don't put him out for good-" I said, "You were running this your way and you ran yourself right into a trap. Now I'm running it my Way. -.. Okay, Ramуn. Whichever arm you prefer to have punctured. Swell. Now come on over to the bed and lie down, like a good boy."

  Five minutes later he was sound asleep on the bed. I looked at the two girls, without appreciation. Not that I don't like girls, but this job had been overloaded with them from the start: Vadya, the blonde woman I'd shot, the red-haired girl who'd disappeared with Harsek, and Carol, who might originally have been classed as an innocent bystander, but was now as deeply involved as the rest of us, something I might feel guilty about later, when I had the time.

  And, of course, there was the girl of many faces- well, at least two-who called herself Priscilla Decker, whatever her real name might be.

  I said, "Okay, Priss. Now whistle up your magic carpet and get us the hell out of here."

  She frowned. "I don't know what-"

  "Cut it out," I said. "It was arranged for you to come here in Solana's car, without any transportation of your own. It's an isolated Mexican fishing village, sixty miles from nowhere, served by just one desert road that can be blocked anywhere between here and the border. You had some dirty work to do, cleaning up after friend Henderson-maybe I should say cleaning up on friend Henderson-and it could go wrong, as it did. Don't tell me Leonard didn't arrange a back door of some kind for you. Well, now's the time to produce the key to that door."

  She said sharply, "If you think I'm going to help you-', I sighed. "Why didn't you say so before I put him out? Now we'll just have to sit here until he wakes up again and carts us off to prison." I glanced at Carol. "Pick a chair and make yourself comfortable. The girl's being stubborn. It looks as if we may be here for a while."

  "Damn you!" This was Priscilla. "When we get back, I'll have your scalp if it's the last thing I do! And I don't know if there'll be room for all of us; I don't know how big a plane they've got standing by."

  I said, "We'll worry about that when we see the plane. Where's it supposed to make the pickup, on the local airstrip I saw from the road?"

  "Don't be silly, right there in town, practically? No, there's a place out on the desert just to the north where the highway runs straight for miles, roughly in the direction of the prevailing winds. We'll have to watch our steps;--there may be a road block if they're still searching for Henderson." She glanced at the dead man on the floor without visible emotion, and looked up again. "Well, all right, damn you. Get me the radio stuff out of my suitcase and I'll make the emergency signal. -.."

  Leaving the room, a few minutes later, I glanced back. Solana was, stretched out on the bed, breathing evenly; but that wasn't what I was looking at. As I'd said earlier, it
's only actors and amateurs who don't keep track of guns. I was checking on the little.22 derringer I had carefully neglected to pick up earlier, when I was collecting the rest of the armaments. It had been lying on the linoleum floor near the corner of the bed, but it was there no longer.

  I grinned to myself, and closed the door behind me. Everybody was full of tricks tonight, even I. With a little luck, some of them might come off.

  I put the girls into the front seat of Carol's station wagon, with Carol driving, and got in back where I could. keep an eye on them. We drove out of town, switched off the headlights as we passed the last adobe shacks, and proceeded cautiously along the empty highway that led northwards to Sonoita and the border.

  Presently we saw a gleam of light ahead, warning us of the expected road block. We turned off into the desert to make a wide swing around the spot. It was rough going, and pretty soon the wagon hung itself up on a hump between two gullies. These low-slung new vehicles appear very stylish on hard pavement, but they look kind of ridiculous stuck in terrain that any old pickup truck with reasonable clearance would take in its stride.

  Rather than make a lot of noise trying to dig out, we just left the glamor-wagon there and continued on foot. Priscilla, impatient, forged ahead, which was all right with me. It turned out to be quite a hike in the dark. I plugged along beside Carol, and after a little she took my arm as if to steady herself, moving closer as we walked.

  "Well," she whispered, "well, did I do all right, darling?" She laughed softly. "I'll admit I was a little slow to catch on. I even got a little annoyed when it looked as if you were trying to wish me off on another man so you could have the sexpot for yourself. But when

  – .. when you just sat there and let me be arrested, I realized that you wanted me to go with Solana for some reason. I hope I looked convincingly indignant"

  "You did fine," I said. "I figured that since Solana seemed to want you so badly, he'd better have you; obviously he had something in mind. Now you'd better tell me just what was the purpose of the show the two of you put on… What's the matter?" I noticed that she was limping. "Did you twist your ankle?"

  She laughed again, ruefully. "No, it's just the transmitter-thing Ramуn gave me. I hid it in my boot, and it's rubbing a hole in my shin."

  I said, "So that's his plan. He slipped you an electronic dingus to carry? A sending device of some kind?"

  "Yes, of course. He's got it all fixed; they'll be able to track us wherever we go."

  I made a face. "Well, it's not exactly an original idea, and I never trust those gadgets very far, but let's hope it works. Did he have any message for me?"

  "Not really. I was just to grab him when he gave me the sign, so that you could overpower him, and we could all get away with her." Carol glanced towards the shadowy figure stumbling along ahead of us. "He hopes she'll lead him to the rest. To the headquarters or whatever it is, where they're getting things ready he thinks, for some really big UFO demonstration that'll make all the others look silly. He says we haven't got much time, and he hopes you'll help. But, Matt, I don't understand. Who is this Mr. Leonard she is working for, and what kind of a U.S. agency would think of doing anything like this? I can't really believe-"

  "Hold it!" I whispered sharply. "She's stopping."

  Priscilla was waiting for us on a low ridge overlooking the highway. "I think this is the place," she said. "He ought to be here pretty soon; he's had plenty of time. Have you got the flashlight I told you to bring?"

  I gave her the flashlight. We stood and listened. For a long time the night was silent except for the uneven murmur of the wind; then we heard the sound of a plane in the distance. Priscilla waited until it was overhead, and raised the flashlight, and sent some kind of a dot-dash message skyward. The plane circled away from us and came in over the dark ribbon of the highway, lower and lower. There was a chirp of rubber as its wheels touched the pavement and began to roll. We ran down the sandy slope to intercept it.

  The plane had stopped by the time we reached it, and the pilot was already climbing out on the wing. He was a big, burly man, and there was something familiar about his head, even in the dark. Not his face, I'd never seen that before except in photographs, but I'd once seen that shaved bullet-head from behind, in a Mazatlбn taxi piped for gas. I stopped abruptly, as if- taken totally by surprise. Something touched me between the shoulderblades.

  "As you say, it's not much of a gun," Priscilla said softly behind me. "But I don't really think you want to be shot by anything, even a.22 derringer… Did you have any trouble, Harsek?"

  19

  IT WAS A moment of private triumph for me, and I should have felt real good about it. All my stray hunches and guesses had paid off, and my vague plans had worked out very well-it had been tricky, pretending to suspect everybody but Priscilla Decker so that she wouldn't guess I suspected her. It had taken some finagling, getting myself captured like this, and I should have been pleased at my success.

  However, there were a few drawbacks to the situation. For one thing, I now had to survive until I was brought to the place where I could do the job I'd been sent to do, and that might be tough, particularly with Harsek around. For another thing, I wasn't alone in my predicament. I'd hoped Solana might keep Carol out of the action-that was one reason I'd let him take her away-but he'd used her as a decoy instead. I didn't blame him, it was -the logical thing for him to do, but it gave me an additional responsibility I didn't need. I hoped his electronic tricks would make up for it, but I had no faith in them.

  "I never have trouble, girl," Harsek was saying in a guttural voice. "Now get them aboard fast, before some Mejicanos decide to make use of their fine paved road."

  "Just a minute. There's something I have to do first. Cover the man. Wait, let me give you his guns. We have quite a collection and I have no place to carry them… Okay." Priscilla swung around to confront Carol. "All right, honey, where is it?"

  "Where is what?" ~

  Priscilla regarded her for a moment, rather like an experienced cat appraising a very young and innocent mouse. Abruptly, she reached out with both hands, grabbed Carol's neatly buttoned bush jacket by the lapels, ripped it open, hauled it down from the shoulders roughly, and yanked it free of the arms. Priscilla kneaded the cloth thoroughly with both hands, feeling for something hard. Finding nothing, she threw it aside.

  "Okay," she snapped, "step out of the boots, and take off the sweater and skirt, unless you'd rather have me pull them off you, too… – Ah, I got a reaction, didn't I? It's in one of those ducky little suede boots, isn't it? Dig it out and give it to me!"

  Miserably, Carol reached down and fished out a small object, which Priscilla snatched from her and threw far out into the dark. So much for electronics.

  "You and your dancing partner really should have given your adagio routine a few more rehearsals," Priscilla said scornfully. "It wasn't as convincing as a lot of high school performances I've seen. So Mr. Solana thought he'd plant a tracking device on me, in the form of a ladylike blonde! What other cute ideas did he have in mind?"

  Harsek said sharply, "This is all very interesting, girl, but we have an aircraft sitting on a public highway. We can question them later. Get them aboard."

  I'm as brave as the next man, I hope, but no matter how much I ride in them, airplanes always scare me a little. Perhaps this is because I don't know anything about flying them except what little I've absorbed by watching other guys do it.

  I can drive a car pretty well, and I've been checked out on horses, bicycles, motorcycles, skis, skates, and snowshoes; I can handle a boat in an amateurish fashion and I once managed to ride a surfboard without falling off; but the air is not my element. One of these days I'm going to take a few flying lessons so I'll at least know if the guy up front is doing the right thing or the wrong one.

  In the meantime, crowded into the back seat of the little plane beside Carol, I didn't immediately do a lot of constructive thinking about our situation, although there w
as obviously a lot to be done. As far as I was concerned, the intensive cerebral effort could wait until Harsek got us the hell off that dark desert highway and up into the sky where we couldn't hit anything, at least not until it was time to come down again.

  It took him a while. I've called it a little plane, and you could have checked it aboard a commercial jet and had baggage allowance left over, but it still had two engines and carried four people, which is a lot of plane for a private job. With a full load of passengers, it didn't really leap off the ground; and as we roared along the shadowy blacktop fighting for takeoff speed, I expected at any moment to see a car or truck appear ahead to contest our right to the road.

  There was nothing to indicate the exact moment we stopped rolling and started flying. Harsek just reached out and hit a switch and I heard the wheels come up, so it seemed reasonable to assume that we were airborne. When we'd achieved a safe margin of altitude, I cleared my throat.

  I said, "You drive this thing better than you did that taxi in Mazatlбn."

  He was busy getting things trimmed and organized for level flight. He said without turning his head, "It wasn't much of a taxi. This is a good airplane. It is too bad that we must lose it."

  "Lose it how?" I asked.

  "Never mind. You will see." He glanced towards Priscilla, who sat half-turned in the right front seat so that her revolver could cover us in back, particularly me. Harsek said, "Give me a report, girl. You used the emergency code. What went wrong?"

  She said defensively, "I don't have to report to you, Harsek. You are here to assist us, not to give orders or conduct interrogations. I will make my report to Command, when the assignment is finished."

  "For a chicken that has just missed being plucked, if my guess is correct, you talk very bravely. But of course you are right." His voice was dry. "Harsek does not give orders here; he merely lends his well-known face and name to the operation. He also flies airplanes and drives taxis, and shoots guns if necessary. But the bright young children get the credit-and the blame, don't forget, if things go wrong."