by Wade Miller
In return, Biggo grunted. "I want the fellow who killed Toevs."
"Oh, you can have him," Jaccalone said negligently. "You won't find out much. We haven't."
"We'll see."
"But he's the man. He put the Pavon ad in yesterday night's paper. You can have him," Jaccalone promised again. "One of Silver's boys more or less isn't anything to me. He's only a beginning, what's going to happen to Silver and his boys."
He got out of his chair. He was pudgy with easy living, not healthy. His breath came short but Biggo knew it wasn't because he was scared. He said about the rifle, "Point that thing down. You're frightening me." To the others he said, "You stay here."
Pabla began, "Why can't I-" and Jaccalone only glanced at her and she said, "All right, Tom."
Biggo left the rifle leaning against the wall. He still had Hardesty's automatic behind his belt and he knew Jaccalone wouldn't try anything as long as the Noon confession was hidden.
Jaccalone led the way down. He didn't say anything and he didn't look around to see if Biggo was following. He was used to leading and big men with guns were nothing new at his heels. His whole attitude was one of faint contempt. Biggo had something he wanted; money would buy it; that was all there was to it.
They went down steps into the interior of the vessel, opened doors, passed along companionways, reached the galley.
Jaccalone said then, "Red worked on him a trifle, just out of curiosity, but he's a stubborn boy. It didn't matter much to us." He threw open the door to the galley which was already lighted and gleaming. Biggo stepped over the threshold, hands clenched in anticipation.
The man was strapped over a meat block, spread-eagled under the light like a patient in an operating theater. He was wearing faded overalls and no shoes. He rolled his head to sneer as the two men came in. He and Biggo stared at each other for a long moment.
Biggo swore in Spanish. "In the name of a thousand saints, how did you get out here?"
Adolfo parted his swollen lips in a grin. His tongue was big with thirst. "A misunderstanding, Don Biggo. Please explain to these hounds that it is a misunderstanding." There were cigarette burns on his face and body and occasional small open cuts.
"You know him?" Jaccalone asked Biggo.
"Sure I do. Let him up. He doesn't belong to Magolnick."
"He put the ad in the paper."
"Is this the truth, Adolfo?"
Adolfo, bumped his head against the meat block in agreement. "It is the truth, as he says. But why has this followed? Abducted virtually from the arms of my Rosita and given my taste of hell." He thrust hopelessly against his ropes. "I was better off in the calabozo."
Biggo knelt and began to free the Mexican from his improvised rack. Jaccalone didn't protest. Adolfo sat up, swayed and rubbed his limbs painfully. Biggo brought him a short drink of water. "Not too much-take it easy, amigo." Then he perched on one edge of the meat block and suggested to Adolfo, "Tell me about this business, this Pavon ad."
Jaccalone murmured, "He won't talk about it."
Adolfo raked him with a scornful look. "This foreigner-" he didn't include Biggo in the deprecation "-will never understand. I am a man, a Mexican of honor. I cannot be bullied, Don Biggo. I have loyalty. I have faithfulness to my hire."
"Certainly, amigo. But I beg that your pride end for my sake. A lifelong friend of mine has been murdered. I want to do justice."
Adolfo gazed at him and nodded quickly. "But you are my friend-there's the difference. You ask and I tell. I was hired to carry the announcement to the newspaper office. I didn't understand, I still don't. But, in its way, it was a matter of self-preservation."
"I don't understand."
"Do you remember what I did for you in the parking lot behind the hotel? The scarred man I bumped into by accident, according to your instructions? To my sorrow, that American came across me in town shortly afterwards and accused me of stealing a pistol of his. I told him I had already sold it. Rather than return to the calabozo I did this other simple job for him. I placed the advertisement with the newspaper, pretending that I was Senor Pavon."
A pounding in Biggo's ears and a searing fire in his chest as he sprang off the meat block. He shook his heavy head, feeling the import of Adolfo's statement sink in. The word, "Hardesty!" hissed between his teeth. Then he roared it like a battle-yell. "Hardesty!" The pans shook along the racks in the galley. Both the other men gaped at his frenzy.
But he didn't explain; it wasn't for them. It was for him, Biggo Venn, the picture that was suddenly clear before his eyes, the wrath of excitement. Lew Hardesty was in Ensenada because he was the Magolnick agent, a job between jobs. Hardesty had killed Toevs, and before that Zurico. It had been a game of who-makes-the-first-slip and Biggo had made it that afternoon. Since Hardesty knew his own identity, it had been easy for him to see that Biggo's enemies aboard the yacht must be the Jaccalone faction. So he had gladly brought Biggo out here to wreak a wrong vengeance.
"He's gone now," Biggo whispered. "He's gone back." There would be no rowboat waiting beneath the anchor chain. Hardesty would have started back to the hotel to find the Noon confession and destroy it. Biggo dead aboard the yacht or Biggo a murderer aboard the yacht; it didn't matter to Hardesty. Either way, the yacht was supposed to be a trap to hold Biggo.
He clamped his fists against his head and made himself come to the present, where sanity was. It was still to be settled. "For Dan'l," he growled. "For me." This transcended twenty Arabs in a long-ago desert. This was himself to be settled. By blood; only blood could cool this passion.
He held tight to the sanity of the pistol butt at his waist and swung toward Jaccalone. "Get me back to shore. Otherwise you can kiss your paper goodbye."
Jaccalone caught some of the passion. "I'll get you there if I got to fire you out of a gun." He stormed out of the galley.
The three of them went up and the people in the salon sprang to their feet as Jaccalone plunged into the room. Then he was gasping so hard for breath that he couldn't get his commands out. Biggo did it for him. "Red-you're going to take me to shore in the putt-putt."
Red looked at Jaccalone for confirmation, got it and rushed out of the salon. Biggo told Jaccalone, "He'll put me and Adolfo ashore on the jetty. I'll settle my business, get your paper and meet anyone you want to send back there in a half hour. Send the money with them-cash."
Jaccalone said, "You know, I'm not a guy who likes to be disappointed-"
"Me neither," said Biggo and went out on deck. The sentry was still an unconscious heap by the gangway. Adolfo was going through the man's pockets.
"I'm owed something for my troubles," he told Biggo apologetically. "Isn't that true?"
"I'm going to need you for a job when we reach the hotel, amigo. But not unless you feel strong enough for it." Adolfo's swollen smile made him stop. "All right, that's fine."
Behind him, Pabla said softly, "Biggo."
This time he turned. In the gloom of the superstructure her blonde hair glowed of its own. In the water below them, Red was fighting to make the boat engine come to life. Biggo said, "If you're still hunting beauty you won't find it on me. I've had a bloody bad day and the night doesn't look any better."
The lens of her glasses glimmered as she shook her head gently. "You are still very angry with me, aren't you? I'm sorry, truly I'm sorry, Biggo. I was so drawn to you-and you to me-that morning in the calabozo. You were the-" she made a little hunching movement with her shoulders "-the ideal of virility and strength. My breath went out of my body, I was that impressed." She chuckled. "The jefe was quite disturbed by my choice."
Adolfo had drifted away discreetly. Biggo said, "What matters about it?"
"When I saw how it was with you-that great innocent love of yours-it tormented me, Biggo." She put her hand on her hip and stroked up across her dress until her hand lay beneath her breasts, lifting them slightly. "You are such a rare combination of strength and innocence."
"You bet I'm rare. Rare a
s hell. I'm out of my time. You don't find them like me any more."
"No. That is true." She brought her fragrance nearer. "You're going tonight. Will you miss me? Tomorrow, when you've completed your mission for Tom, when there'll be no excitement to anticipate-will you miss me?"
"Not at all."
"I think you must be lying. And there's no need." A step closer and her breasts rested against his chest as they had once before; her thighs brushed expertly against his legs. "You could come with me. When you've finished with tonight. A ship like this needs men, strong men, and you are the strongest. Oh, I know how strong you must be!"
He was looking down at the flower of her upturned face, he was breathing her and he was feeling her delicate movements against him. But he was thinking of the girl back in his room at the Riviera Padfico. Jinny, who had gotten nothing but a kicking around from life and from Biggo Venn and who was still waiting back there, standing guard over the Bible like a good soldier. Loyalty, and she had even said she'd pray for him. He ached with impotence when he thought what might happen to her because of loyalty like that.
Pabla had her eyes lidded. She slid up a hand to adjust her glasses, whispering, "Can't you imagine it? We could cruise for weeks, perhaps months. Days to stretch in the sun. Nights like this, but with moonlight. We could follow the full moon…"
Below them, the motorboat kicked over, spluttered, set up a roar. Biggo's whole body answered to it. He put his two fingers against the lens of her glasses and his thumb against her soft mouth and straight-armed. Pabla flew backwards and lit in a sprawl. The glasses broke in fragments on the deck beside her. She was suddenly a shocked awkward sight of exposed flesh and ungraceful limbs.
Biggo scarcely glanced at the sight he had created. He yelled at Adolfo, "Let's go get 'em, amigo," and went down the gangway to the waiting boat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sunday, September 17, 9:30 p.m.
Hardesty's Chevy coupe still sat in the parking lot behind the hotel. Biggo stationed Adolfo among the skinny pine trees nearby and made him repeat his instructions.
Adolfo said, "A cockcrow. If that doesn't stop him, any kind of noise my frightened throat can make."
"Make it loud. Can't let him reach the car. I got nothing to follow in." Biggo left him, strode north a few paces to where he could see the windows of his room on the second floor. They were lighted. He expected that. One was raised partway, along with the Venetian blind. By Jinny, probably, for night air. No figures passed before the half-open window or threw shadows on the blinded one.
Biggo went into the hotel. As usual the lobby was deserted. He closed himself in the phone booth. He could see the switchboard girl, a few yards away behind the registration desk, answer his dialing. He asked for his room number. He waited while the phone rang and rang. He sweated and ground his teeth.
At last Jinny answered. Her voice was cautious and shaky.
Biggo said, "You all right, honey?"
"I'm just fine," she got out.
"Don't say much. I know Hardesty's up there. I'm coming after him so be ready to duck fast. Understand?"
Jinny said, "Yes…"
"Try to make him think this is anyone but me. Say good night."
Her breath fluttered. "Good night." The connection clicked off.
The honeymoon couple came through the lobby, heading for their room. They didn't see Biggo. He watched them pass and when they had gone, he slipped out of the phone booth and took the stairs two at a time. He didn't make any noise and he held the Mauser by his hip, his coat masking his hand.
He reached the corridor. Then he stopped.
The door to his room was wide open. Light from inside spilled out on the carpet with Jinny's awkward shadow. She stood in the doorway, her body sideways but her face twisted in his direction. Her bathrobe was draped over her green suit and Biggo could see finger marks on her throat.
Then Lew Hardesty said, "Come on, Biggo, take it slow." He was out of sight, behind her somewhere. Biggo couldn't locate the gun muzzle he knew was pointed at him.
Jinny whimpered, "He was listening. He made me answer." Her head jerked back as she winced with pain. Hardesty was holding her by an arm doubled against her spine.
Biggo uncovered his Mauser. A chill shook him. He flattened against the wall so Hardesty couldn't lean around the girl and find him. He called, "Lew, you're boxed. You better step out and get it over with."
Hardesty laughed.
"Come out and face me. Or I'm coming in to get you."
"I doubt it," said Hardesty. His voice was tense but not really worried. "Not you. Not with people in the line of fire. They might not be ready to duck fast enough. Understand?" He was mimicking Biggo's words on the telephone. Jinny whimpered and winced again, face bloodless.
"I didn't tell him, Biggo!" she moaned. "I didn't!"
Biggo couldn't meet her eyes, her eyes that begged to be taken out of this somehow. She was caught between them and she had reached the final point of fear. She was ready to die if only that meant escape.
Hardesty said, "She means she wouldn't tell me where to find the Noon confession. If I had a little longer, she would. Shall I close the door and have her tell me or do you want to tell me?"
Jinny sobbed as Hardesty worked on her arm.
Biggo sucked in his breath with hers. The length of the corridor lay between them, but they breathed together again. His right hand hung straight down, tired with the weight of the automatic. All the bones in his big frame seemed to sag with weariness. Nothing seemed important enough to have Jinny's eyes beg him like that. He said, "Let her go, Lew. Don't hurt her any more."
"But I haven't all the time in the world, you know." Hardesty's voice sounded as if he was enjoying himself; Biggo knew his vicious streak. "She'll tell me in a minute or so."
"She doesn't have to. I'll tell you. Let her go."
"You quitting?"
"I'm quitting. You win."
"Let's hear it."
"Let her go. I want her out of this. Let her go first."
Silence except for a choked cry from Jinny that sounded like, "No, no!" but Biggo couldn't be sure.
Then Hardesty said, "If you mean that, kick your gun down the hall where I can see it. But be careful, Biggo."
Biggo put the Mauser on safety. He skidded it along the carpeting so that it stopped near Jinny's feet. She was shoved out into the corridor and Hardesty's hand pounced on the gun. Then he stood in the doorway, his white teeth gleaming, a pearl-handled weapon in each fist. "Come in, Biggo," he said.
Jinny was as far away from Hardesty as she could get, crammed against the opposite doorway. Biggo trudged past her. He pulled out his wallet and shoved its money into the pocket of her bathrobe. Hardesty watched the transaction like a cat, making certain nothing else passed between them.
Biggo told her, "You tell them all hello back in Scrib-"
"Biggo…"
"Get away from here, kid. Get away fast. I'm a jinx. I never did a thing for you."
"Biggo…"
He cursed at her softly. "Get out of here, I tell you."
Jinny whimpered and shifted dazedly against the doorframe. She turned away, her hand trailing along the wall.
Hardesty said, "That's the smart little lady. Do what he says." He followed Biggo into the room. Drawers had been dumped out and the beds were torn up. Hardesty closed the door, dropped the left hand pistol in his coat pocket and reached behind him to twist the lock.
"Okay, Biggo. Show me."
Biggo crossed to the dressing table. The raped room-his and Jinny's-hurt his eyes. "It's in the Bible," he said dully.
"Show me."
He picked up the Bible from the dressing table and thumb-nailed open a corner of the binding so that Hardesty could see an edge of the hidden paper.
Hardesty grinned harder, excited. "Aren't you the fancy one, though? I was beginning to think you had it on you. But I couldn't believe you'd carry it out to the yacht."
Bigg
o grunted.
"Toss it over."
Biggo tossed it and Hardesty plucked it off the bed and slipped it in his other coat pocket. Biggo grimaced. "Why?" he asked. "Even remembering that Arab business, I never thought this was your style."
But he should have known. It was written in black letters across Hardesty's career that this was his style; he didn't know right from wrong.
"Well, hell," said Hardesty. "I didn't expect you'd be the one dealing with that gangster Jaccalone, either. You know, when you're on the beach a lot of things look good that you wouldn't touch other times. You know how it is. I had an old friend close to Magolnick and Magolnick knew that one of his regular boys could be spotted a mile off…"
Biggo was shaking his head. "No, I don't know how that is. Dan'l Toevs wouldn't have touched the job you took, not even broke and rummed up he wouldn't have touched it. Neither would I. I guess only you would touch it."
Hardesty flushed darkly, not ashamed but knowing he was supposed to be ashamed. "Pay is pay," he said and his mouth bleakened. He raised the Mauser. "I guess you'd never let me get a night's sleep, would you?"
"No."
"What I thought. I'm not worried about police but I know you. Police don't cross the water much but you-I don't want to be looking for you to turn up in every town in the world, every night."
"That's right. I'd follow you. You'd never sleep. I could follow anywhere."
Hardesty said, "Well?"
"You want me to turn my back, Lew, so it'll feel natural to you?"
It was ready to end. Biggo was ready to have it end. Hardesty's mouth was open to say the last thing but he didn't. Jinny's voice knifed through the locked door. "Biggo, say something. Are you all right?"
Both men jumped. They were keyed high. Hardesty swiveled so he could watch Biggo across the room and the door behind him too. He said harshly, "Get away from here!"