The Big Bite

by Gerry Travis

  “Curtis!”

  Knox grinned. “He’s hale and hearty—and seems to own about twenty million in gold.”

  She looked as though he had struck her in the pit of the stomach. Slowly, she moved the few steps to the galley sink, reached for a glass and drew herself some water.

  “You’ll never get away with it,” she said. “Forrest will be watching. You can’t do a thing without me.”

  Knox said, “We’re in no hurry,” Despite his hunger, he was feeling very good.

  Natasha drank the water slowly, returned to the stove and turned off the burners. When she reached swiftly for the coffee pot, Knox moved.

  His gun barrel slashed down on her wrist, hard enough to make her cry out. She whirled on him, fingers crooked, clawing. Knox thrust the gun into his pocket and got both hands on her shoulders. She was strong and as agile as an eel. She came against him, her arms up about his neck, her face close to his.

  “I know how to get away with the gold, Paul,” she said softly. “That’s a lot of gold for two of us—twenty million dollars. I know where we can go with it, too. I have a place all ready.”

  He looked into her face, at the slitted eyes, at the full, warm mouth. She was a damn fine-looking woman, he thought sadly.

  “Would you rather I made love to you before I turn you over to Curtis?”

  She backed off, cursing him, one hand raised as if to strike. Then she smiled, and shrugged. “You play it tough all the way, don’t you?” She took a deep breath. “I don’t care what you do—but don’t let Curtis get his hands on me. Give me a break, Paul. Give me some kind of chance.”

  Knox thought about it. He had no intention of turning her over to Curtis. He had the idea from the hatred Curtis had displayed in killing Tiber that the man might be temporarily unbalanced. Knox could hardly blame him.

  He looked at her. He was too tired to think, he decided. Too tired and hungry. What the hell was he going to do with her? He had no answer.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Natasha gave Knox the answer he was looking for. He stepped aside, saying, “Let’s move into airier quarters, shall we?”

  She started by him, turned suddenly and drove a knee straight at his groin. Knox turned, catching the blow on his thigh. But she was faster. When she slashed with her fingers clawing at his face, he could only throw up his hands. He felt her hand at his pocket and he was not quick enough to stop her.

  Now she had the gun and Knox stood with his hands hanging, looking at her. “You can’t do it,” he said. “We’re six to one.”

  “No,” she agreed, “but I know what I can do.” She shrugged. “A million is better than nothing—especially when I don’t have to share it. I’ll go get Forrest; he’ll know what to do.”

  She was smiling. “Just walk ahead of me, easy now.”

  Knox walked. She had him go to the motors, and on her order, he removed the rotors out of the distributors.

  “Now,” she said cheerfully, “if you want to get out of here while I’m gone, you’ll have to row.” She kept well back, the gun held competently at her hip. “On deck, please. I want you to launch the dinghy.”

  Knox wondered if any of them were in a position to see what was going on. But he dared not look about to see. He launched the dinghy, a cockleshell with a good-sized outboard motor. Wordlessly, he did as she ordered and went inside. She stopped by the door to the toilet.

  “Take off your trousers and get in there,” she directed.

  “My what!”

  “Your trousers,” she said crisply.

  Knox removed his trousers and dropped them to the floor. Then he went inside the tiny, three-cornered room. He heard her locking the door. A few moments later there was a scraping sound and he guessed she was propping a piece of furniture under the handle.

  She said, “Even if you do break out, I don’t imagine you’ll be in any hurry to go on deck. Men are funny that way—being caught without their pants.”

  Laughing, she walked away. Taking a cigarette from his coat, Knox struck a match and used it to light the cigarette and to locate the light switch. There was another switch which, when snapped on, started a ceiling fan. That made him feel a little cooler.

  In a very short time he heard the motor of the dinghy roar up, cough and die. It caught a moment later but sounded uneven. Since the sound remained at the same volume, he guessed she was working to clear the trouble. He thought, If the others had dared come, they would have done so by now. But Natasha had the only gun.

  Taking what run he could, he drove his shoulder against the door. The lock held. But the thin plywood door panel made a cracking sound. Knox backed up, and his eyes fell on the solid top of the toilet seat. He worked it free, lifted it and swung at the panel. On the fourth blow, he opened a hole. By the sixth, he could get his hand through to the outside. In a few moments, he was out. The motor of the dinghy was roaring throatily now.

  With the toilet seat still in his hands, Knox made for the deck. He came into the daylight in time to see the dinghy swing about in the harbor, ready to bounce its way out the cut to freedom. He poised on the deck, setting himself to dive.

  There was a shout from above. Knox saw Adele on a rock a good fifty feet above the harbor. Through cupped hands, she called, “Stay away! She has a box of grenades with her. Stay away, Paul!”

  Someone else shouted. It was Curtis, appearing behind Adele. He was shouting not at Knox but at her. Knox froze. Adele had launched herself forward, up and out in a tremendous swan dive. A flash of sunlight glinted on her white body.

  Knox realized what she was trying to do and why she was doing it. He dived in, stroking for the spot where she had cut the water but had not yet come up.

  Natasha was having trouble again with the motor of the dinghy. She had managed to swing around and was aimed at the harbor entrance, but her motor was sputting angrily and she could get up no speed.

  As Knox broke water, he saw that he was between her and the entrance. He thought he had a glimpse of Adele’s bobbing head on the far side of the dinghy, but he could not be sure. His eyes were on Natasha. She worked frantically on the motor for a moment and then straightened up.

  They were not twenty feet apart now, and he was surprised to see that she was not holding a gun. She’s dropped it, he thought. She’s helpless. He knew that at the speed she was making, bare headway, he could catch the nose of the dinghy and swing her about. If Adele could attack from the other side, they had her.

  Then he saw the ugly weapon in her hands. It was a grenade and she held her fingers on the pin.

  Knox treaded water. “If you throw that thing, it’ll take the bottom out of your boat,” he called.

  “There won’t be enough left of you to care,” she said.

  Knox took a stroke toward her. The motor had stopped altogether now, leaving her bobbing helplessly. She stood with her legs apart to brace herself, the grenade held high. “Get back, Knox.”

  He kept coming. The boat tipped sharply away from him. He had a brief glimpse of Adele’s face as she caught the gunwale with both hands and jerked. Natasha made a screaming sound as she lost her balance and went over the side. Knox saw the pin leave the grenade as she fell.

  “Adele, get away!”

  Suddenly the world seemed to stand still. There was no sound. And then the sea vomited. Knox could feel the pressure of it against him, rising from below. He fought to stay in the water but was lifted, effortlessly. For a moment he thought he was caught in a great breaker that would finally release him onto the shore.

  But there was no shore. He found himself splashing in the churning water, coughing up the sea, his eardrums aching. The little dinghy bobbed crazily almost within arm’s reach. He could see someone inside. When his vision cleared, he made out Adele.

  Stiffly, Knox stroked for the dinghy, caught the gunwale and, with a kick, slid over the side and into the bilge on the bottom. He lay trying to find his breath.

  When he could, he said, “You could h
ave been blown to bits.”

  “So could you,” she said sharply, her voice reminiscent of their first meeting. “But we had a damn sight better chance with her cuddling that thing underwater than throwing it.”

  Knox sat up and wiped his face with a towel Natasha had put protectively over a large thermos of water. “She pulled the pin just as she went over,” he said somberly. “She could go a long way down in seven seconds.” He was thinking that if she hadn’t gone a good distance down, the explosion would have killed both Adele and him and probably blown the dinghy’s bottom out.

  He said, “That was a fool thing you did. You could have been killed.”

  “What difference would it make?” Her voice was toneless. “I thought I could do something once. Now I know I can’t.”

  “Forrest tell you that last night?”

  “Yes.” She was rustling in a small pile of gear Natasha had put into the dinghy. She came up with cigarettes and matches.

  “And he made you take me out in the garden and pump me?”

  “I’m sorry, Paul. I couldn’t do anything else.” She looked at him, her eyes sick. “I’m an awful coward about some things.”

  “Whatever you did,” he said, “taking care of Natasha squared it.” He found the oars and unshipped them.

  He began to row. “Right now, I’m heading for that galley. Being blown up seems to have sharpened my appetite.”

  • • •

  Knox had the feeling that things were too good to last. After breakfast, he went to sleep with that feeling settling heavily onto his stomach and he awoke to find it still with him.

  It was late afternoon and time for Knox to take his turn at watch. Adele was the one who wakened him and when he went on deck, she followed. There was a small arsenal of guns in the main cabin, but even this couldn’t cheer him. The whole thing had gone too smoothly so far.

  Knox took a carbine and propped it by a deck chair placed so that he could see to the entrance of the small harbor. It was dusky in here now, the sun having swung far down toward the horizon. He lit a cigarette and contemplated the long, cool-looking shadows lying over the water. His head felt thick from the hard sleep of exhaustion.

  Adele had made a pot of coffee before awakening him. She poured him a cup and then sat at his feet, her shoulder touching lightly against the side of his knee.

  “You’d better get some rest,” Knox said. The coffee awakened him and took some of the sluggishness from his mind.

  She said, “I can’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep before my watch, either. I’m all tight inside.”

  With his free hand, Knox reached down and stroked her hair lightly. “Look,” he said, “this isn’t over by a long way. We’ll need everyone when the time comes. When it’s over—then we can figure something out for you.”

  She turned, faint questioning in her expression. “Do you have any ideas how to bring us through, Paul?” Her face clouded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  Knox knew what she meant. “Don’t be a damned fool. I trust you as much as I trust anyone here. Now forget it and go to bed.”

  Setting down his cup, he took her by the elbows and lifted her gently to her feet. There were no sounds but those made by the gentle lapping of water against the rocks rimming the basin. He led her inside and forward to where the cabins were.

  There were two, each with four bunks. Knox had been in the cabin where Curtis and Meridee slept. He led Adele into the other. It was empty.

  “Where are Nat and Kurath?”

  She looked tired now. “They went for a walk some time ago,” she said vaguely.

  Knox thought about this and disliked it. He helped Adele into a lower bunk, bent down and touched his lips lightly to hers. For a brief moment her arms raised, holding him about the neck, pressing him fiercely to her. Then she lowered her arms. As Knox straightened up, she gave him a small, crooked smile. The next moment she was asleep.

  He went out quietly. On deck, he finished the pot of coffee and smoked three cigarettes. And still there was no sound or disturbance. He wondered what kind of walk Nat and Kurath had taken.

  It wasn’t a matter of jealousy with Knox, any more than his relations with Adele made Nat jealous.

  Over breakfast, Knox had got to know Kurath a little and found him a lot of man. He admired the way Kurath had risked his neck, tying himself up with Natasha and working the hard end—Cuba. All to get a stake for the daughter of his old boss. He had his own money salted away in various Swiss and Tangier banks, Knox found. He wasn’t averse to a little profit, but mostly he was doing this for Nat.

  The only satisfaction Knox had was knowing that twenty million in gold was too heavy for Nat to carry away.

  It was near the end of his watch when he heard the soft noises from behind him. He swung about, the carbine lifted. The bobbing light of a flashlight was probing down the natural rock path that led from the pier into the island. The backwash of the light showed him Nat, with Kurath picking his way carefully behind her.

  They came aboard, looking tired but cheerful. “Where in hell could you walk around here?” Knox asked irritably.

  Nat stood on tiptoe and pecked her lips against his cheek. “I told Hans you’d be cross. We’ve been busy, Paul.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Kurath grinned, his white teeth showing in the gloom. “First we fixed the motors so we can take the boat out when the time comes.”

  Nat nodded. “You said that Tiber was right and we would have to move it when they came in to load the gold.”

  “Did you find the rotors Natasha had me take out?” Knox asked.

  “She had them in the dinghy,” Kurath explained. “But we did not need them. There are many spare parts in a locker.”

  Nat squeezed Knox’s arm. “All sorts of nice things, Paul. Coils and spark plugs and wires and things.”

  He completely missed the implication of it. Nat was chatting on. “We also fixed the dinghy. It had a fouled plug. Then we went for a walk and found the sulphur springs Curtis told us about.” She shuddered. “That swamp is horrible. We got lost and had to pick our way back with only this flashlight. Whose turn is it to stand watch, Paul?”

  “Yours,” he said. “Go to sleep. I’m wide awake now.”

  “Is Adele all right? She looked awfully sad the last time we saw her. Can you help her?”

  Knox said, “Adele is all right. I don’t know if we can do anything for her. Right now, I have some things to do. Go away.”

  She reached up and kissed him again. “Good night, Paul.”

  Kurath led her away, and Knox set about making the preparations he thought were necessary.

  After a while, he waked Curtis and Meridee and put them to work helping him. The clock was running out fast. Forrest and whoever would be with him should arrive within the hour.

  • • •

  Curtis was stationed on a pin point of rock from where he could see out over the water and down into the harbor. It was empty now, the boat having pulled away with Kurath at the wheel. It should be standing off, hidden behind the far side of the island. Only Knox and Curtis were left ashore.

  From his vantage point, Curtis called down, “Whatever ship it is, Knox, it’s a full-sized job. It’s standing off now between here and Horsetail Island and about a half mile farther out.”

  “Any action from Horsetail?” Knox called up. In the moonlight, he could see Curtis adjust the night glasses he had found aboard the boat. In a moment his answer floated down.

  “Something is pulling out. It looks about the size of Forrest’s cruiser. Heading for the ship.” His voice was thoughtful. “It couldn’t be Gomez going out; all the lights on the island are still blazing.”

  Knox grunted. “What about shoreward?” He was worried about Silac. He was sure Manuelita had got ashore with her message, and Silac should have done something. Now he had no desire for the Mexican to come into the affair. He wanted to handle it his way.

  Cur
tis called down, “No activity. Just the lights of La Cruz and a few at the Viewhouse…. Hey, hold it!”

  After what seemed an eternity in the dark silence broken only by the lapping water, Curtis said, “The cruiser made the ship and signaled and a flotilla is tagging it this way.”

  Knox had expected something like this. Forrest would lead a crew here to get the gold and take it aboard the ship. Then, he surmised, Gomez would go aboard, the ship would sail, and that would be the end of it except that somewhere along the line Natasha was supposed to have got her million. Now, of course, there was no one to take the million. Chalk up a profit to Forrest and his bosses.

  Curtis called, “They’ll be coming in soon.”

  Knox’s relief left him. This was the touchy part. He felt as helpless as a baby chicken being maneuvered by a hawk. He said, “Got everything ready?”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Curtis called. “Grenades at hand.”

  Knox said, “Don’t mess it up. If you have to, drop the things whether or not I’m clear.”

  “Yes,” Curtis said. His voice was tight now. “I wish I had more of them. I could have sworn there was a boxful in the dinghy.”

  Knox was too preoccupied to be interested in grenades. Curtis had four. In the narrow confines of the harbor, two would be enough. One, he thought. It only took one to blow a man to hell.

  “Keep back,” he called up. “I can make you out in the moonlight, and Forrest sees just as well.”

  “Check.”

  Knox adjusted the gun in his pocket, made sure that the sand-filled sock he carried for a sap was hanging tightly at his belt, and, with the aid of a small pencil flashlight, made his way up the path.

  In position, he waited. Shortly he heard the throaty purr of the cruiser and, above it, like overtones in a symphony, the higher pitch of outboard-powered boats. He could not see but, judging from the echoes, a half-dozen must have entered the little harbor.

  Knox thought about those standing off in the large boat, and he hoped that they remembered to time their part in this.

  The echo of the last motor died. Silence descended and then was broken by the sound of men moving about under crisp military commands.