Dr Quake td-5

by Warren Murphy

"I don't work for the government. But I do have some contacts there. Some pretty important people. If you want, I could transmit the message for you."

  "Well, that's something," Wyatt said. He smiled. "Maybe that'll do it."

  Remo stood up. "Are you going to be here a while?" he asked.

  Wyatt nodded.

  Remo said, "All right, then. I'm going back to my house to make some calls. I'll call you here and let you know how I make out. By the way, who called you?"

  "Called me?"

  "About the quake? And the million dollars?"

  "Oh, yeah. A man. Never heard his voice before," Wyatt said.

  "Another by-the-way, sheriff. Any leads on who killed Curpwell?"

  "From the description his secretary gave me, I think those guineas we found in the ditch mighta had something to do with it. Anyway, I'm listing it as a heart attack. Don't want to shake up the town."

  "Been a busy day, sheriff. A heart attack; two hit-and-run victims; now this million dollars."

  "That's not all, either," Wyatt said. "I got word today about some kind of a killing today out at the Gromucci farm. Three men, supposed to be killed by two men. One an old Chink. But I called Gromucci and he told me there wasn't nothing to it. Just a fairy tale." He looked at Remo suspiciously.

  "Can't believe in fairy tales," Remo said pleasantly. I'll call you back, sheriff."

  "All right, Blomberg," Wyatt said. "And thanks. I appreciate it. You know, you're not such a bad guy after all."

  When Remo left, Wyatt stared at the office door. Blomberg wasn't such a bad guy, particularly for a fairy. It was a shame what he was going to look like when the two girls were done with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dr. Harold W. Smith toyed with the $0.90 red plastic letter opener with a magnifying glass on one end as he listened to Remo on the telephone.

  "All right," he said, "I understand. Do you have any leads? Anything at all?"

  "Nothing. I think Quake's machine is involved. Maybe it's him. But he's kind of loose."

  "If that's what you think, work on it."

  "All right, I will. But what about the million?"

  "Stay where you are," Smith said. "I'll call you back."

  Smith hung up the phone, turned in his chair and stared out at the waters of Long Island Sound. Blackmailing the government. It was unthinkable. But duty required that he report the message to the President. It was a decision for him to make.

  He turned back to the desk, opened a drawer and removed a telephone with a red dot in the handle. He picked up the phone.

  In Washington, the President chased his wife from the bedroom and picked up the telephone which was kept in a dresser drawer.

  He listened as Smith explained the circumstances. His reaction was immediate.

  "Pay it," he told Smith.

  "May I advise you, sir, that once started, blackmail is difficult to stop? And this is nothing but blackmail."

  "Doctor Smith, this is also California we're talking about. Not Texas."

  "The decision is yours, of course," Smith said.

  "And my decision is this. We will pay them the million dollars. And if they cancel the earthquake they have scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, we will up the ante to $1.5 million. Do you have that kind of money available?"

  "Yes sir."

  "All right. Then pay it."

  "As you wish," Smith said. He hung up the telephone and dialed Remo's number. The President was wrong. He should not pay.

  Remo picked up the phone on the first ring.

  "Yes?"

  "The President says we'll pay."

  "That must send you up the wall," Remo said. "Is it coming out of your budget?"

  "Not only out of my budget, but out of your expenses. You'll have to wear a pair of shoes more than a week now."

  "Poor Chiun," Remo said. "He's going to have to go on short rations."

  "Another thing," Smith said. "The President says we'll pay more if tomorrow's earthquake is cancelled."

  "How much more?"

  Smith could not bring himself to say it. He hesitated then said, "$1.2 million total."

  "I don't know," Remo said. "I don't know if I can bring it home for a penny less than $1.5 million."

  "Do whatever you have to do," Smith groused. "There'll be a bank draft of $1.5 million to your account in the San Aquino Bank tomorrow morning. Who will take the money?"

  "The sheriff here. A big blowhard named Wyatt."

  "It might be interesting to find out who he gives the money to," Smith said.

  "Don't worry. I plan to."

  "And Remo," Smith said. "Please try to get the money back."

  "You're some piece of work," Remo said, as he hung up.

  He looked up Wyatt's telephone number in the phone book and dialed.

  Wyatt sounded like a recording. "This is the San Aquino County sheriff's office. This is Sheriff Wade Wyatt speaking."

  "Remo Blomberg, sheriff. When do you expect those people to contact you again?"

  "Probably in the morning."

  "All right. I've heard from some people in Washington. They'll pay. And they'll pay an extra $500,000 if tomorrow's earthquake is cancelled. Do you think they'll stop it?"

  "I don't know," Wyatt said. I'll ask. How will I get the money?"

  "I'll have it tomorrow," Remo said. "You can get it from me."

  "Okay," Wyatt said. "They told me small, used bills, not in series."

  "Right," Remo said. I'll take care of it. And you let me know how much tomorrow."

  "I'll call you as soon as I hear from them," Wyatt said.

  "Okay, sheriff. Good night."

  Remo hung up, glanced at his watch, and practiced his timing. When he felt a minute had passed, he looked at his watch again. Fifty-nine seconds. Not again. The line was busy. So Wyatt was contacting them. He was probably part of it.

  Well, then, tomorrow, Sheriff Wade Wyatt would get it too. Remo could not take a chance of killing him now. Not until he had the whole gang together along with whatever equipment they had. He could take no chances with a pre-set timing device that might touch off a quake.

  Wyatt drummed his fingers on his desk. The phone rang eleven times before it was answered.

  "This is Wyatt."

  "This is Jacki. What are you calling for, pig? I told you never to call."

  "It's important. Tell your sister she was right. Blomberg does work for the government. And they'll pay one and a half million if you call off tomorrow's quake."

  Jacki paused for a moment, then said, "Okay, we'll do it. When are you going to get the money?"

  "From Blomberg. Tomorrow afternoon."

  "All right, pig. Bring it here after dark. And make sure you're not followed."

  "That Blomberg tries to follow me, I'll blow him apart."

  "Don't worry about him. If anybody follows you tomorrow night, it won't be Blomberg. Our friend Remo's going to be dead."

  At that same moment, that very thought was in the mind of a man checking into the Cowboy Motel. His name was Musso.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "It's all there, sheriff. A million and a half."

  Wade Wyatt stood in Remo's living room, his beady little eyes peering out from under his Stetson, looking down into a brown leather valise, filled with bills.

  "Small bills, old, not in series," Remo said. "Where are you going to deliver it?"

  "I got to leave it tonight out on Route 17 at a special spot," Wyatt said.

  "What spot?"

  "Sorry, Blomberg. I can't tell you that. If I was to be followed, the whole deal'd be off. And you know what that would mean."

  "Yeah, I guess so," Remo said. He was wearing a white bathing suit, having just come in from the pool to meet Wyatt. "Well, good luck," he said. "And listen. If you could get some idea of who those people are, I know folks in Washington who'd like to know."

  "I'll try. You can count on that," Wyatt said, wrinkling his chin in a grimace of determination. H
e picked up the suitcase and left. Remo watched him walk toward his patrol car.

  So much for Wyatt until nightfall. When Remo had spoken to him in the morning on the telephone, Wyatt hadn't been at all worried when Remo lied

  So his delivery wasn't until dinner-time, at least. Reno would pick him up before that.

  Remo went back through the dining room's sliding glass doors to the pool area. As he passed through the dining area, he heard the television in Chiun's bedroom blasting forth the continuing saga of Dr. Lawrence Walters, psychiatrist at large. Chiun's vice: hopeless addiction to TV soap operas.

  What was it the man said about California? Remo wondered, as he lay himself down on the slate deck around the pool? The place where all the misfits of the world congregate, under the assumption that since they were going to be miserable anyway, they might as well be warm.

  He'd buy that, he thought, as he felt the California sun toasting his bones. Wade Wyatt, Doctor Quake, the twins, Curpwell, the Mafia. He should write a book. About the interesting people he'd met. And the interesting people he'd killed. How many now was it? He had stopped counting. In the hundreds anyway. Just one at a time. Even the slaughter of a thousand persons begins with but a single death. Yep, he should write a book. Smith'd like that. Cut him in for part of the royalties. He'd like that better.

  Remo felt himself fading away into a nap. And then he realized he was not alone.

  He rolled to his side and in one motion was on his feet, his hands curled at his sides, poised on his toes.

  Jacki and Jill stood there. They wore thin yellow dresses that barely reached the tops of their thighs and that hid none of their curves. They ran their eyes openly and hungrily along Remo's body; suddenly he felt naked.

  "My, my, the nervous type," the one on the left commented. Remo compared her bustline carefully with her sister's. The one who spoke was Jill. She was bigger.

  "And what balance," added Jacki. Remo felt foolish poised on his toes that way, in fighting position. He let himself softly down onto his feet.

  "Speaking of balance," he said, "how do you two manage to stand up? It seems a violation of a natural law."

  "We encourage violation," Jill answered.

  "Moving violation, I hope?" Remo asked.

  "There's no other kind," Jill returned. "Tell me, is this all you do? Lie around the side of the pool? Don't you swim?"

  "Sometimes."

  "We came to thank you . . . really thank you, for helping the professor yesterday."

  "Glad to help." He fought to keep his eyes on the girls' faces. Once a tit man, always a tit man.

  "Now that we're here, aren't you going to invite us in the pool?"

  The girls were having that effect on him again, so Remo sat down on the edge of the low diving board.

  "Sure. Help yourself."

  They giggled at his discomfiture. Then, in that way known only to women and chimpanzees, they reached their arms up behind their backs and unxipped their dresses.

  Slowly, they wriggled their arms from the short sleeves. The dresses fell softly on the sun-yellowed slate. They kicked off their sandals, stood there before Remo, naked, the sun glinting blue off their ebony hair, their skin creamy white as if it had never known sun. Their hips were lush, their legs long and full. Their waists were small and rising above them were jumping to his feet and shouting. Except that he couldn't stand up.

  These were the kind of girls, Remo thought, that men rarely dreamed about. In their dreams, men wanted beautiful women-but women who were human, who could be taken, violated, and overpowered by a man's lust. The twins in front of him now were too much for that. So ripe, rich and sensual that they were overpowering, a normal man would shrink from them because he would know that his lust could never conquer them. No matter how strong it was, his lust would be burned up by their sexual heat and proved inadequate.

  That's how a normal man would feel. Remo was no normal man and he felt rising in him a lust beyond lust.

  "Do we embarrass you?" Jill said.

  "No, I like liberated women."

  Jill cupped her own breasts. "Good. We like being liberated."

  They approached Remo and sat down, one on each side of him on the diving board. Their hands were on his thighs, then Jacki put an arm behind his head and planted a kiss on his mouth, a long-lingering kiss in which her tongue darted into and probed his mouth.

  He felt hands pulling off his bathing trunks and then his swimsuit was down around his ankles and his feet were being pulled from it. Jacki's mouth was still over Remo's and it felt as if his lungs were being sucked from him. Then he was pulled to his feet and hands were all over his body, pulling at him, feeling, stroking, rubbing. Every time he moved, he felt breasts rubbing against him, soft breasts that shuddered when his skin touched them.

  Then there was no more deck and the three of them fell into the water. Remo felt himself being manipulated and he and Jacki were joined under the water. They broke the surface for air, then Jill plunged down and then was at Remo with her face, her tongue and lips moving. Remo planted a hand and began stroking rhythmically in the rolling waters of the pool that now slapped against the tile sides.

  He felt Jill shudder spasmodically, her body releasing tension, and then Jacki pulled her mouth away from his and arched her body, crying out, "Don't stop. Don't stop."

  Remo was angling them toward the pool ladder, pronging one along, pulling the other along with a fingertip, and he steered them up the ladder and followed them up, still conscious of his manhood.

  "Inside," he said hoarsely.

  "We're going to do you now, Remo. And do you. And do you," Jill said.

  They walked toward the glass doors that opened into Remo's bedroom. Then Chiun stepped out into the poolside area. Remo felt suddenly embarrassed and stepped behind Jill before turning.

  Chiun looked at the girls with distaste and at Remo with loathing.

  "Oh, you're cute," Jacki said. She stepped toward Chiun. "Let's," she suggested.

  He just stared at her. "Let's make it a foursome," she said.

  Remo turned and went inside with Jill. Chiun looked at Jacki coldly. "I do not perform in public," he spoke firmly.

  "Shy?"

  "No. I am civilized. Only cattle and beasts of the field copulate in the open."

  She got down on her knees in front of him, offering him her breasts. "Come on," she said. "Please. You'll never forget it."

  "The last woman I had, I was twelve years getting rid of," Chiun said. "I need no more slaves. Go with him. You will find him adequate in every respect. He is your type exactly."

  Chiun turned and walked back into the house, heaving his shoulders in a sigh. Poor Remo. He would always be an American. Always a fancier of cows. He should have been a dairy farmer.

  Jacki stood up, followed Jill and Remo into the bedroom. They were already tangled together on the bed and she stood alongside them, trailing fingertips along their bodies, then she moved to join them. Jill was throbbing again and Remo felt himself being rolled off her by Jacki.

  They were insatiable. It was like making love to an octopus which had come to drain his vitals, to dry him up, to turn him into an aged man in one lasting moment of lust.

  Out in the living room, Chiun watched his TV tape of As the Planet Revolves. He watched his tape of Edge of Dawn. Then he stood up and turned off the television.

  He heard steps behind him.

  He turned.

  Remo was there, buttoning a black, short-sleeved shirt. He wore black slacks and black sneakers.

  "Well, little father, are you ready?" he said.

  "I am always ready. And the forward ones?"

  "They'll rest now," Remo said.

  As they left the house, Remo saw the twins' Volkswagen bus parked at the door, behind his rented red hardtop. In the back seat of the camper was probably how they were keeping it safe. By carrying it around with them.

  Sure enough, the doors were unlocked. Remo saw the keys in the ignitio
n, and pulled out the key ring, reached in and locked the doors.

  "Be just a minute, Chiun," he said and walked back into the house.

  He opened his bedroom door. Jacki and Jill were on the bed, unconscious, drained, exhausted, their faces wearing ecstatic smiles.

  He tossed the keys toward the bed. They landed between Jill's breasts, which received them with a quiver. She smiled in her sleep at the sensation.

  Remo softly closed the door and walked out. Let them sleep. They had earned it.

  He whistled softly as he hurried out the front door and got into the car, where Chiun waited in the front seat. Remo moved quickly now, so quickly that he did not notice the man watching him from the front seat of a black Cadillac across the road, cleaning his fingernails with an ice-pick.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "Chiun? How do you battle a force without vibrations?" Remo asked as they drove to town.

  "There is no force without vibrations," Chiun said.

  "I've seen one," Remo said. "A water-laser. It generates tremendous power, and no vibrations."

  "There are always vibrations," Chiun said, "no matter how small. You must feel those vibrations, then harness them to your own until you are the master of the relationship." He folded his arms.

  After a few blocks, Remo said again: "It had no vibrations."

  After another block, Chiun said: "There are always vibrations. Like those you feel now. Do you feel them?"

  Remo opened his senses for a moment. "Concentration?" he said.

  "Yes," Chiun said. "We're being followed."

  Remo looked up into the rear-view mirror. The road behind them was empty. He glanced toward Chiun.

  "Ahead of us now," Chiun said. "The big, black monstrosity. He just passed us and then pulled to the curb."

  Remo slowed down slightly without hitting the brake, glancing at the black Cadillac in which a man sat trying to act nonchalant. Remo looked at his head, the back of his thick neck, as he drove by. Musso, he told himself.

  Remo glanced at his watch. Almost six o'clock. Plenty of time before Wyatt would make his delivery. Remo hung a right on the next corner and stepped on the gas. In the mirror, he saw the black Cadillac turn the corner and follow him.

  The street was thinned of people now and Remo picked up his speed, barrelling through the town, then out into the flat countryside of truck stops and gas stations. He had seen the place he was looking for the first day he'd come into town with Smith.