by Gavin Lyall
‘Another?’
‘Ned was sitting up straight again. ‘Hell, yes. I got a picture to make.’ He frowned and poured himself more beer. ‘But would’ve been better to use the same one that took part in a revolution. Great publicity angle.’
Ned was staring at him as if he’d turned green and bug-eyed. Then he leaned back again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Finally, he said: ‘Well, all your actors are here. Did any of you remember to bring a script?’
Whitmore waved the pistol. But I said: ‘It’s a fair question: wheredo we go from here?’
‘Hell, we just bust through the Jiminez downtown. It ain’t cordoned off except up around the radio station.’
I shook my head. ‘You can do what you damn like – but I’m getting J.B. out of the country. There’s a lot of shooting yet to come.’
She smiled, frowned, grinned, scowled – a fast flip through the whole expressions catalogue. ‘It’s a nice thought, Keith, but-‘
Luiz said firmly: ‘The old town is cordoned off, by now. Boscogave the orders upstairs, when he heard Jiminez had taken the radio. That is his tactic now: to pin Jiminez down -and to wait. For some jets to become serviceable, to see which way the Army jumps. And the longer he makes Jiminez wait, the less chance Jiminez has of a popular uprising. People do not jump on a bandwagon that is not moving.’ And his face was suddenly old, tired; the face of a man who has heard the chariot pass him by. ‘It will take time, now. Better get out, Walt.’
Whitmore frowned. ‘Yeah? Hell – and we got to be back onthe picture day after tomorrow.’
Luiz smiled a little crookedly. ‘And of course, there is that.’ Ned was looking at Whitmore, still not quite believing in him. ‘This is just a couple of days’ holiday from moviemaking – that right, matey?’
‘Button up. I got an investment to protect.’
‘Aninvestment?’
Isaid: ‘He means he’s in it for the money, same as you.’
That got me stiff looks from both – but I was still right. It was just cash that had put them on opposite sides. If it had brought them together, they’d have had a perfect understanding.
Whitmore rubbed the slight bristle on his chin with the pistol. ‘Well, I guess if it ain’t going to finish today, we better pull out.’ He sounded honestly reluctant. There must have been bars and brothels he’d hated to leave before closing time, just because he had a picture to make in the morning. But he’d always left. He was a pro – in his own way. ‘So, how do we do it? – If the old town’s sealed off?’
‘You don’t,’ Ned said. ‘You’re stuck.’ He stood up and held out a hand. ‘Like me to take over now – or you want to wait for the shooting?’
Whitmore looked at him. J.B. said quickly: ‘There’s still the civil airport. Jiminez said there wasn’t any fighting up there – and there’s a Pan Am flight for Kingston due just after eleven.’
I said: ‘If Pan Am knows there isn’t any fighting there. They’ll probably overfly us.’
‘Anyway,’ Luiz said, ‘it will be booked five times over already. And it would not be a good place to be stranded. It is just a little obvious.’
There was a short, thoughtful silence.
I said: ‘That brings us back to the Dove – wherever it may be.’
Ned said: ‘Get stuffed.’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re down to corporal already, Ned. You haven’t been exactly a ball of fire even as a jailer, have you? You could be up against the wall with us. Now let’s get to hell out of this country.’
He considered me carefully. ‘Keith – you don’t understand, do you? It ain’t just getting me throat cut – but I had a reputation, too. I was a damn good war pilot. You busted that. But we’ll have two Vamps serviceable in forty-eight hours. I’vegot to stay for that. I’vegot to pick up the pieces. Or I’m finished. I’ll never get another job again.’
In the silence, J.B. said: ‘Are we talking about your aeroplane, Keith? Jiminez told us it had been moved over to the air base.’
I nodded. ‘So now we know.’
Ned smiled f aintly. ‘The old man liked it: had it done up and’s been using it as his personal plane.’ He nodded at Whitmore. ‘Now let’s seehim act the scene where he breaks into the big well-defended air base and swipes the General’s private aeroplane.’
A phone buzzed.
‘Or,’ he added, ‘ask Boscofor permission. Now’s your chance.’
I was on my feet, holding out a hand at Whitmore. ‘Give me a gun. He’ll believe I’ll kill him.’ Then I swung Ned’s own revolver at him. ‘All right – dear old pal. Talk us out of this.’
He eyed the squat, heavy Magnum. ‘You nevercould hit a hangar at five paces, Keith.’
I clamped both hands on the gun. ‘I’ll come as close as it needs and shoot as often as it takes – if you’re theman who getsher caught in this town.’
The phone buzzed again – longer.
He waved his hands and his head. ‘I didn’t think I’d see a pro like you become so bloody amateur.’
Then he stood up, took a deep breath, and snatched up the phone. ‘Hello – General?… Sorry, I been in the bathroom…’ Luiz leant in cautiously, listening hard.
I kept the revolver pointed at Ned.
He didn’t say much, just grunts and a ‘yes’ and a ‘no’. A few geological eras passed. Then he banged the phone down again, glanced contemptuously at Luiz, and said: ‘You tell ‘em.’
Luiz said evenly: ‘The General is going with Capitán Miranda to the base. Señor Rafter is to wait here with hisprisoners. A firing squad is on call downstairs in case…’ He shrugged delicately.
Whitmore said: ‘So, what now?’
‘We wait,’ I said. ‘Just long enough to let Boscoget settled in his office out there. Then we take Ned’s car out, Ned helps us bluff past the guards on the gate, we find the Dove, we climb in -zoom.’
Ned stared incredulously. ‘You’re barmy.’
‘Ned – what have you got to stay for? When Boscofinds out you faked that phone call, you’ll be ten ranks below corporal and six feet under ground.’
‘No-o.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I can bluff that out. Your Hollywood pals could’ve come inafter the call. One way or another, you won’t be around to say they didn’t. And Boscoain’t going to believehim.’ He jerked his head at the guard, squirming around on the sofa and trying to remember which end of the sky had fallen on him. ‘So what’s your script say now, Keith? Stick a gun in me guts and tell me to drive you through the gate or else…? It always works in the movies.’
THIRTY-ONE
Whitmore took the heavy automatic from his belt, whacked it against his other hand. ‘That’s exactly dead right, fella. Get moving.’
Ned looked at the gun, expressionlessly, then shrugged. ‘You’re the dealer.’ He took a step towards the door.
I said: ‘Hold on.’
Everybody turned. I said: ‘Ned – youdo realise we’ve got a pretty limited choice, don’t you? If we can’t get to the Dove, we’ve got to try and break through to Jiminez. With your car, and the firepower we seem to have collected, we might do it.’
‘But first you’ll put a bullet in me head?’ Still expressionless.
I looked down at the gun in my hand. ‘No-o. I don’t think I could do that. We’ll just take you along – and if we get through, turn you over to Jiminez for safe-keeping. How safe he’d keep you, I wouldn’t know – but then, I wouldn’t have to watch, either.’
His face may have got a little stiff. Then he nodded briefly. ‘So I’ll get you through the gate.’
‘Right,’ Whitmore said impatiently. ‘So let’s get moving.’
I said again: ‘Hold on.’
He spun round and his voice was up to cow-punching level. ‘Sonow what in hell’s bothering you?’
‘It didn’t work,’ I said wearily. ‘If he takes us through that gate, he’s turning traitor. And I know Ned: he doesn’t do things like that, not that easily –
not when he’s getting a thousand a week to stay loyal. He’ll ditch us – somehow. Forget a password, tip them the wink. Something. And whatever happens, he stands a better chance than with Jiminez.’
Whitmore looked at Ned thoughtfully, carefully. Ned stayed completely blank. Whitmore turned back to me. ‘So -what now?’
I was looking at Ned myself. Now was the time to think of something that meant more to him than his loyalty to Bosco,more than $1,000 a week. As easy as that.
‘You’re sure you don’t want to cut your losses and come out with us, Ned? There’ll be another job waiting, in Africa or somewhere.’
‘At the same price? And when they hear I walked out on this job when things got rough?’ He smiled faintly.
‘You’re ready to bet we’ll let you live, Jiminez’ll let you live, Bosco’ll let you live – and you’ll redeem yourself when a Vamp gets serviceable again?’
‘Keith, I just don’t have even a limited choice.’
I nodded, then said quietly: ‘It’s one hell of a gamble, Ned.’
He smiled again. ‘I’m a gambling man – remember?’
‘I remember. So I’ll roll you dice for it.’
There was a long stunned moment – then everybody was saying something. I waved the Magnum. ‘Shut up! I’mhandling this.’ Then, to Ned: ‘Well?’
He stared curiously. ‘You’re betting I’ll get you through that gate, without tricks – against what?’
‘We leave you here when we make a run for Jiminez. Tied up, locked in – but here. In one piece.’
He thought it over. ‘You’re crazy, rolling dice with me. But-‘
‘I’ll say he is! ‘ Whitmore exploded.
‘Then think of something better.’
‘Christ, I can think of a stack of things better’n shooting craps when you got a revolution going on downstairs-‘
‘Like going downstairs and starting shooting people?’ I sneered. ‘Look, Mr Whitmore, this is the one chance we’ve got of getting through that gate: getting Ned on our side. Nothing else’ll work, not with that base as nervy as it’ll be now. It’s been attacked once today already – you rememberthat?’
He lifted the automatic. ‘Hell, we could still do it by-‘
‘Wait,’ Luiz said warningly, ‘quiet down.’ Without anyone noticing, he’d reached the submachine gun. Now it pointed, just casually, at Whitmore. Tut down the gun, Walt,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Don’t tempt yourself. This is Carr’s play.’
Whitmore stared, totally disbelieving. Then, as the idea sank slowly in, he bent down and flicked the automatic across the carpet. Luiz kicked it under the sofa. ‘Thank you. Proceed, gentlemen.’
J.B. said quietly: ‘Even if your friend loses’ – and I liked that ‘even if – ‘why should we believe he’ll keep his word?’
‘Because I know him. He’ll cheat us blind, deaf, and dumb – he’s a fighter pilot. I told you something about that. But he’s also a gambling man – and one thing he’ll never do is welsh on a bet. Never. That’s the one thing he believes in.’
Todohombretienalgún aspecto dehonor,‘Luiz murmured. Every man has some aspect of honour.
Ned glanced sharply at him – he must have known enough Spanish to follow that – then back at me. ‘You’re pretty crafty, Keith. But I’m not just a gambler, sport, I’m a winner.’ And there was just a shade of suspicion behind his voice.
I shrugged. ‘All right, so we’ll even it up for me a bit. Cutout all the fancy betting and the long odds. Just one play of the dice; one shooter rolls until he wins or loses. That’s all there is to it.’
He frowned. My idea wasn’t quite what gambling means to a gambling man. He works on a superior knowledge of long-term odds, of balancing winning and losing bets. I was suggesting a straight toss-of-the-coin situation.
I said: ‘But I’ll shoot if you like. It was my idea.’ Somewhere, I’d read that the odds are slightly – about one per cent – against the shooter.
He went on frowning.
I said: ‘I just want to get somethingsettled. But if you’re scared to take a bet-‘
His face snapped shut. ‘You’ve bet, matey.’
The drawer below the telephones was stacked with cards and dice, some still in cellophane wrappers. I took out a pair and clinked them in my hand. They were normal casino dice, the same as they used downstairs – which would be where Ned had got them. ‘Where do we play?’
‘Up against the wall there. The carpet’s smooth enough; we’ve shot dice there before.’
I looked around the room. At Whitmore, staring grimly back at me; at J.B., arms folded, hugging herself slightly, puzzled; at Luiz, cradling the submachine gun easily and comfortably because he knew about machine guns.
Ned said: ‘So – shoot.’
I knelt down on the carpet, then nodded back at the guard on the sofa. ‘And keep an eye on him.’
Everybody glanced at him. Luiz smiled, nodded, then moved so he could cover the sofa as well as Whitmore.
Ned said: ‘I bet I get you through the gate, you bet you leave me here – right?’
I said ‘Right’ and threw the dice.
The carpet slowed them more than the baize of a craps table would have done; they didn’t even reach the wall.
I’d thrown a 6 – no win, no loss.
I looked up. ‘You accept that – or do I throw again?’
He shrugged. ‘She’ll do.’ In the thirty-six combinations apair of dice can show, there are five ways of throwing a 6 – but six ways of throwing a 7. And I had to throw another 6 before a?.
I reached for the dice, shook them, rolled them.
An 8. Nothing.
I reached, shook – and far away, through the double windows, the crack of a grenade, the patter of rifle fire. But not my business. No Repúblicapolitics for me. I rolled the dice.
A 4. Nothing.
I collected the dice, looked up at Ned. His face was quite still, but his eyes were-bright and hungry. Locked in the private cockpit of his head, willing the dice, guiding them – with a control column and rudder pedals and throttle that he didn’t have. Gambling man.
Then he caught my eye and relaxed instantly. ‘The odds’re against you, matey.’
Behind me, Whitmore took a rasping breath. ‘Christ, we should’ve done this on the end of a gun, not-‘
‘Ned’s not as impressed with guns as you are,’ I snapped. ‘He’s spent his Ufebeing shot at – and not with blanks.’
Ned just smiled quietly.
I threw another 8. Another nothing. And my hand was damp as I picked the dice up.
Ned said: ‘Getting tune for a seven, I’d say.’
I threw. One showed a 4, the other spun on a corner, rocked, settled – a 2.
And after a long time, Ned said quietly: ‘I’ll get you through the gate.’ The light was gone from his eyes.
We stripped off the guard’s uniform and left him tied up with a mixture of telephone cable and Ned’s ties and belts. Luiz climbed into the uniform – wearing the expression he usually kept for getting his feet wet. In die end, it didn’t fit him, but that was fairly normal in the Repúblicaforces. What worried me more was the casual elegance he carried into any clothes; he looked like a general dressed as a private.
But the way he handled the submachine gun was still convincing.
Ned led the way down the corridor; Luiz and I were the lastout. As we went through the door, he murmured: “the next time you play with loaded dice, my friend, please remember they are onlycertain to work over a period of time. Not on just one play.’
He’d known what I was doing all along, of course, even if he hadn’t seen me switch Ned’s dice for Bosco’s when everybody glanced at the guard on the sofa.
I shrugged. ‘He was pretty suspicious of the idea anyway. If I’d beaten him over a long game… Anyway, the odds were three to two on my side, so Iought to have won.’
He looked at me. ‘Yees. But next time, play only for money – please?’
&nbs
p; THIRTY-TWO
The hotel lobby was crowded with tourists; sitting on their luggage, swearing at a deserted desk, shouting down phones that didn’t answer. A few of them looked at us hopefully – until they saw Luiz’s uniform and gun, Ned’s flying suit.
At the back, on a table flanked with potted palms, a radio loudspeaker was making a triumphant, but possibly rather weary speech. It said ‘Jiminez’ several times, so it sounded as if he was still in business down there. The only people listening were three locals – senior civil servants, judging by the size of the pistols in their belts. Probably they’d decided the Americana, under Bosco’s wing, was the safest place for them that morning.
There were no Air Force men around apart from a couple of guards_ outside the glass front door. We arranged ourselves carefully – Ned led the way, J.B., Whitmore, and I followed, and Luiz – still looking like a general dressed as a private escorting us. We aimed for the back door.
Whitmore said: ‘I need a gun.’ We’d left his pistol up in the room; now he was staring hard at the pocket where I still had Ned’s Magnum.
I shook my head. ‘You could have it rather than me, but Ned’s got to carry it through the air base gate. He’d look damn suspicious with an empty holster.’
‘Yeah.’ He saw the sense of it – reluctantly. ‘Hell, though.’
Then he saw the civil servants.
He half-turned his head to Luiz and said out of the side of his mouth: ‘Get one of those guys with us.’
Luiz frowned, then looked resigned, and took a diversion past the group.‘Señor, por favore. Presidente-Generalissimo Bosco…‘Then we were round a corner and I couldn’t hear any more.
As we came out into the open by the deserted patio bar, Whitmore hung back. I heard footsteps in the corridor behind, then the whack of a fist. Ned, who hadn’t noticed anything before, stopped. ‘What the hell are you-?’
Luiz and Whitmore came out behind us, Whitmore carrying a fancy gunbelt covered in cartridge loops and silver studs and examining a big, long cowboy-type revolver.
‘A real Colt forty-five,’ he said happily. ‘Hell, that’s great.’