The Retaliators

by Donald Hamilton

  "Mad!" It was Euler's voice. "He was a madman! How could I guess he would simply murder—"

  "The trouble was," I said, "Roger didn't watch TV. He didn't know how he was supposed to behave. He just knew that he was angry as hell and getting angrier. He wanted a gun for just one reason—to burn down the sadistic bastards who'd been humiliating and tormenting him.... Just who were the three who got shot, besides the guard, Kotis?"

  "Two interrogators and a doctor."

  "In other words, two beat-'em-up specialists and the guy with the needle full of scopolamine, right?"

  Kotis hesitated. "Well, scopolamine isn't really used much any longer—"

  I said, "Look at it from Roger's point of view. We have to take that kind of crap from our enemies, sometimes. We've all been through that wringer. To have it done to us by self-righteous, self-styled patriots who are supposed to be on our side is a little more than we can be expected to take with equanimity.... Roger put up with it for a while, but he was getting closer and closer to the detonation point as it went on. Finally, somebody left a gun handy, and that was that. He didn't expect to escape. He knew damned well why the weapon had been made available to him—that careless-guard gambit has whiskers on it. He knew they were waiting for him out in the hall. But the guys he wanted weren't out in the hall; and by this time he was so furious he was ready to go out if he could just take them with him. Which is exactly what he did."

  Euler made an ugly little whimpering noise. "How could I know...."

  I said, "So there was Euler, waiting for his escaping prisoner out in the hall, when all hell broke loose in the interrogation chamber. That hadn't been in the TV script at all. Euler charged in there with you, Kotis, and found Roger busily performing his neat triple execution. Blood and dead men everywhere, a terrible disaster instead of a cleverly frustrated escape, and huddled in the corner was the guard staring at him, Euler, with big accusing eyes, obviously ready to announce the name of the person who'd ordered him to be so careless with his weapon. More men were charging in, guns were firing, and in the middle of the confusion, the non-violent Mr. Euler yielded to a primitive sense of self-preservation and snapped a shot at the head of the man who could ruin him, maybe without even thinking about it consciously...."

  twenty-six

  Yuma, Arizona, is a scorching hell-hole in summer, but in winter it's just a pleasantly sunny desert town surrounded by irrigated farm lands. The motel at which we stopped wasn't a Holiday Inn, but it might just as well have been. In a way, it was kind of pleasant to be back in good old plastic U.S.A., and we had a couple of martinis apiece to celebrate. Clarissa had changed out of her much-abused corduroys, perhaps for the last time; the long journey was at an end, and the once fashionable pantsuit had long since passed the point of no return. She wore her long Mexican dress and was the most striking woman in the chrome-plated dining room. The steaks weren't bad.

  "Well, it's been a... a very educational experience," she said at last, and there was a little color in her cheeks as she said it. Then she said, "I suppose I should be sorry for that poor man, Euler, but I find it difficult. I guess I'm not a very forgiving person." When I didn't say anything, she glanced towards the door and went on: "I called O'Hearn, Inc., from my room. They're sending a limousine to take me home to Scottsdale. I think it's probably waiting by now; I just saw somebody who looked like a chauffeur carrying my suitcase through the lobby. So... I guess it's good-bye, Matt. Thank you for one more dinner."

  "I'll see you to the car," I said, and rose to help her with her chair. As we walked out of there, I said, "Leave it now, Clarissa."

  She glanced at me sharply. "What do you mean?"

  "Euler will be taken care of. For the rest of his life, until he manages to end it somehow. And you don't need to take care of me."

  We were crossing the lobby. A uniformed man came forward, cap in hand. "Mrs. O'Hearn? The car is outside."

  "Wait for me, please," she said. "I'll be along in a minute."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She watched him go, and turned back to me. "Matt, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

  "Cut it out, sweetheart," I said. "The Chinese boy with the assault rifle had a beautiful standing shot at Díaz, but he waited endlessly until the handsome pilot, Krakowski—the guy who'd toyed with your affections at your husband's request—got out of the plane to where he could be hit with certainty, too. Obviously, the kid's instructions involved more than Díaz. And then your husband got up, wounded, and started towards safety, and since the kid had shot his gun empty, Ernemann himself rose up and took the fatal risk—as it turned out—of finishing him off. Why bother with Oscar O'Hearn if the contract involved only Hernando Díaz? As you say, Mrs. O, you're not a forgiving person."

  She stared at me, wide-eyed. "You can't be serious!"

  There were people passing through the lobby, but they gave us little attention, except the occasional male who couldn't help an admiring glance at the handsome lady in the Mexican dress.

  I said, "There was always a question as to where all the money was coming from. Of course, you were quite truthful in telling me you had no designs on Díaz's life. As long as Díaz seemed to be the target, the only target, you had no adequate motive. But the way it turned out in the end, it became rather obvious that somebody had got to Ernemann, somebody besides Ramón Solana-Ruiz with the pennies he'd collected from his Americano friends in Baja, somebody with real money to throw around, somebody with influence enough in financial circles to pry the numbers of certain private bank accounts out of reluctant bank officials."

  "Matt, stop it please. If this is supposed to be a... a parting joke, I think it's in very poor taste."

  I said, "The person in question had obviously shown Ernemann how he could make a lot more profit for very little more trouble—all it would cost him would be a few additional rounds of ammunition. If he'd just traverse the automatic weapon a little farther while disposing of General Díaz, there would be a nice sum in a numbered Swiss bank account, say, in addition to what he was already collecting from Solana-Ruiz. Not to mention the extra cash needed to get certain U.S. operatives into trouble and off his trail, making the whole job that much easier."

  She licked her lips. "This is insane! How would I even learn about a man like Ernemann and what he was up to?"

  "Stop it, sweetheart, it's no good," I said mildly. "Your brother told you, of course. Hell, you were involved. Naturally, Roger—Jack—would warn his big sister that her husband was mixed up in dangerous foreign schemes involving dangerous revolutionaries threatened by dangerous foreign assassins. A deliberate breach of security, of course; but I gather the brother-sister relationship was fairly strong."

  "But you're arguing against yourself! If our relationship was that strong, I'd never have dreamed of framing him into prison, my own brother—"

  "Of course you would," I said. "It was the only sensible thing to do. If you were really going to hire Ernemann to take care of husband Oscar and lover-boy Phil, you'd want brother Jack put away where he couldn't spoil the plan—besides, you could tell yourself you were really doing it for his own good. You didn't want him killed, going up against a lethal guy like Ernemann. You figured he'd be safe in jail, and with all that money and all those company lawyers, you'd get him out afterwards free and clear, no sweat. Only, you didn't understand your brother as well as you thought, and you didn't know Andrew Euler at all, so that scheme backfired badly. But the rest went like clockwork, and Ernemann even had the grace to get himself shot by me after doing his job, saving you some money, no doubt, and the nagging worry about whether or not he would blackmail you for the rest of your life. You needn't have worried about that. Ernemann hadn't got where he was by putting the screws on his clients; he played it straight. But you won't find many men around of Ernemann's caliber. Now you'll have to use what you can pick up in some place like Las Vegas—now that you don't have experienced brother Jack to steer you around the underworld—and those boy
s will take you for every nickel you've got, assuming they can do the job, which they can't."

  She licked her lips once more, watching me closely. "What job is that, Matt?"

  I said, "Mrs. O, you're a very smart girl, but you're a goddamned amateur. Am I supposed not to know that you've been watching me like a stalking cat all through dinner—hell, all the way up from Mulege—wondering if I was safe to leave around, and if not what you should do about me since unfortunately you hadn't been able to manage the job during that nice phony display of submachine gun hysterics down by Laguna de la Muerte? Well, the answer is: nothing. Sit tight, doll. You're in the clear. This outfit of ours was organized to solve difficult, dirty, and dangerous problems on the national level. With all due respect, ma'am, a lady having her husband and lover—false lover—murdered is not all that important, at least not to us. Mow them down in rows, Mrs. O. We don't care. Just refrain from trying to frame any more of us into jail, please. You're perfectly safe, and you'll remain so unless you do something stupid like trying to hire me killed to shut my mouth. So leave it now. Just forget it. You've got it made. Don't spoil it by trying to make it perfect; it's damned good the way it is. Okay?"

  She hesitated. There was a bright, cold, speculative look in her eyes as she studied my face. I remembered that her brother hadn't been the most well-balanced character I'd ever worked with. A wild streak ran in that family. Not that I'm criticizing; I've got a few streaks of my own.

  She said without expression: "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  "Like what?"

  "All those hundred-dollar bills you were going to ram down somebody's throat or... or elsewhere." Before I could think of something to say, she stepped forward and kissed me hard on the mouth. "Good-bye, Matt. I don't think you're quite as tough as you talk."

  She turned and strode away, straight and tall in the long, bright dress, a new woman and, I reflected, a fairly dangerous one. Well, the law enforcement problems of the nation, or the state of Arizona, were not my concern; and the shooting had occurred in Mexico, anyway. You couldn't say O'Hearn and Krakowski hadn't had it coming. The trouble with people like that, as with people like Euler, or the young, drunk, American campers in the van that went off the road south of Mulege, is that they never figure anybody's going to get mad enough to strike back. They're always terribly surprised and hurt when the retaliators move into action.

  When I got to my room, Mac was waiting in one of the chairs by the window that would have looked out on the pool if the heavy draperies hadn't been pulled across them. He hadn't changed; he never did. He was still the lean, gray-clad, gray-haired gent with the black eyebrows for whom I'd worked longer than I cared to remember. He looked like an investment broker unless you looked closely and knew what you were looking for. Even then you might not realize you were facing one of the half-dozen most dangerous men in the world.

  "There was a telephone call for you," he said. "The desk said the gentleman would call back."

  "Oh," I said, "It was a man?"

  He regarded me for a moment. "If you're thinking of Norma, the way you did it is the way it must be done," he said quietly. "You know that, Eric. We cannot operate if we are going to be vulnerable to the whims of anyone who cares to point a gun at one of us. Eventually they will learn it will get them nothing but trouble, and stop."

  "Eventually is a long time," I said. I went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer and returned to slap a thick stack of bills onto the cocktail table beside him. "Ten grand from Roger. Ten grand from me. I have another thirty in two separate accounts, I gather. It should make a great Christmas party for the gang, if we went in for Christmas parties."

  Mac looked at me sharply. "Do you know the origin of this money, Eric?"

  "Yes."

  "Should it be returned?"

  "I don't think the lady expects it. In fact, I'm sure she's covered its disappearance very well, and would prefer not having to explain its return. She has plenty where it came from."

  "I see." He thought for a moment. "Then I suggest you bank it all, declare it properly to the IRS, and once the taxes have been paid, bring me what remains and I will put it into our special contingency fund. Congress has not been too generous lately."

  "Yes, sir." I put the wad of money back where I'd got it. "Now tell me about Soo."

  "Mr. Soo has a large project in mind," he said, "somewhere on this continent, we are not yet quite sure what or where. Mr. Soo is a methodical man. He likes to remove any obstacles blocking his operations before they actually have a chance to obstruct him. Being Oriental, he is handicapped; his own trained people cannot move inconspicuously in the western world. He therefore decided to hire a European specialist for this particular assignment."

  "What assignment?" I asked. "Who's the obstacle—" I stopped, beginning to realize belatedly just what U.S. interest Mac had been protecting when he sent a team to remove Ernemann. Well, you couldn't say it wasn't flattering.

  "Precisely," Mac said. "What obstacle has Mr. Soo encountered on the last three occasions he tried to operate here? It is probable that, by now, he is giving a certain U.S. agent credit for more competence than he actually possesses; that he has an almost superstitious feeling about this man. At any rate, it is known that he planned to make certain that this individual would not live to interfere again."

  I said, "Hell, that's too wild a coincidence, sir. You mean that Ernemann was collecting from three different clients for three simultaneous jobs?"

  "Not at the start. It began, I gather, as a simple hit on a Mexican general, paid for by one of his countrymen. This, of course, did not concern us. However, I learned that well after the Mexican contract had been arranged, Mr, Soo approached Ernemann and was told that the customary deposit would entitle him to a place on the list, but there would be a slight, unavoidable delay in dealing with his problem. Naturally, since information had already been received that Soo had plans in this direction, I was curious about whom he wanted killed. It took considerable investigation, but I found out. My next move, obviously, was to arange to have Mr. Ernemann eliminated during the course of his present engagement, before he could embark on the next one."

  "Yes, obviously," I said. "I appreciate the thought, sir."

  "We can't have contracts put out on our people," Mac said. "It shows a certain lack of respect, shall we say. Since you were an interested party, I considered using you in the front lines, but you were in need of some rest and therapy, remember? I did, however, advise the members of the primary team that you would be available for backup if needed. In the meantime, I understand, a certain person we won't name—as you seem to have decided for yourself; we have troubles enough without tackling a ruthless lady with millions at her disposal—had persuaded Ernemann to expand his Mexico operation slightly, for a substantial fee, even offering additional money to be used for the purpose of hampering the pursuit."

  "Yes, I don't get that," I said. "If Ernemann was coming after me next, why did he try to frame me into jail where he wouldn't have been able to get at me?"

  Mac smiled thinly. "It is pleasant to meet an American citizen with such touching faith in the inviolability of his nation's prisons, Eric. Anyway, I doubt that Ernemann really expected his little diversion to be effective in your case—as it turned out not to be. Suddenly you were there, close behind him; the man he'd contracted to dispose of next. Can you blame Mr. Ernemann for deciding to kill all his birds at once and collect for all of them?"

  I said, "You've got to hand it to the guy, he didn't mind thinking big. He could have got rich on one night's work, if it had worked." I drew a long breath and said, "Well, I suppose I have to go after Soo next and see what he's up to."

  Mac shook his head. "No. Someone else has that assignment. Your mind would not have been on it; and I think a certain French marquis, and a certain British ex-colonel, should be taught a small lesson, if it turns out to be justified. This hostage business must be discouraged. Find out exactly what happened
to Norma, and then do whatever you consider appropriate by way of reprisal. You have a free hand as long as you are reasonably discreet."

  "Thank you, sir," I said. "I appreciate—"

  The telephone rang. Mac picked it up from the table beside him and held it out to me.

  "Helm here," I said.

  "I'm glad I finally caught you, old chap," said a familiar voice.

  I hesitated, and glanced at Mac. "What can I do for you, Colonel Huntington?" I asked at last

  "For me?" He laughed. "Nothing, thank you very much. You have already done it—done me out of some very lucrative employment, for the second time. It's what I can do for you that concerns us now. Are you interested?"

  "Of course."

  "Guaymas. The Hotel Playa de Cortez. Room 212."

  "I know the hotel," I said. "What will I find there?"

  "I do not make war on women, old chap. Old-fashioned of me, what? I also do not make dangerous enemies unnecessarily; you never know, in this business, when some angry fellow will blow your head off simply because you trod on his toes when you could just as easily have walked around him. The Marquis was unhappy; he wanted blood, but the troops were mine, don't you know? Let's say that I'd rather have him for an enemy than you; he doesn't shoot quite so straight at five hundred meters. You'd have come after me, right?"