The Menacers Page 13

  I grinned. “Or you could say that I was willing to gamble a bit with my life and Miss Decker wasn’t.”

  “Very humanitarian of Miss Decker,” said Solana dryly. “If true.

  However, there is still another explanation for this difference in behavior. There is the possibility that you, Mr. Helm, were simply anxious to keep Henderson alive so he could talk; and Miss Decker was anxious to have him dead so he couldn’t. The question then becomes: why should two U.S. agents have such different attitudes towards the same situation?”

  I didn’t glance at the girl beside me, who hadn’t moved or spoken. Behind Solana, in the corner, Carol looked pale and scared. The door and windows rattled under the impact of the wind, but there was no other sound for a second or two.

  Then Solana went on deliberately: “I must confess that I was not quite honest, back there in the restaurant. I did not spend the past hours investigating suspects. That is routine police work, and I am certain it is being handled quite competently by the proper authorities, who are also, I am sure, conducting the search for Mr. Henderson with great efficiency. Unfortunately, they do not have quite as much information as I have. They think they are dealing with an ordinary murderer. They do not realize that they are dealing with a man being used as a pawn in a game of international intrigue—a pawn that has just been sacrificed to protect a more valuable piece on the board. A queen, perhaps?”

  Priscilla stirred at last. “I don’t know what you’re driving at—”

  Solana ignored her. “Instead of assisting the police investigation, I have spent the past hours out in the dunes with a pair of night glasses, watching this room, assigned to Miss Decker, and the one in the next building assigned to you, Mr. Helm, and Mrs. Lujan. I wanted to learn to which one of you Henderson would come for help, when it became dark enough that he thought he could not be seen. He came here.”

  Priscilla said sharply: “That doesn’t prove—”

  Solana recognized her existence at last, looking straight at her. “No, Miss Decker, it does not prove that you were the one who gave him the gun, and presumably at the same time instructed him, by voice or written message, to make his escape and meet you here after dark. At least it does not prove that you were acting alone. Two United States agents in the same small Mexican town might well be working together, might they not. As a matter of fact I had reason to believe you were; I attended a conference at which both your superiors were present. However, I always like to confirm my suspicions before taking action.”

  He glanced at me, as if expecting me to comment; when I did not, he shrugged and went on: “If Mr. Helm were involved, he would not have wanted the murderer to appear at the room he shared with Mrs. Lujan, who apparently does not also share his secrets. He would undoubtedly have used this one for the rendezvous—Mr. Henderson’s rendezvous with death.”

  Priscilla licked her lips. “But—”

  “But if Mr. Helm had wanted Henderson dead,” Solana went on remorselessly, “he would have fired the instant he was certain of his target. Instead, he refrained from shooting at some risk to himself. You are the one who fired, Miss Decker, to silence the man who could have betrayed you. I believe you invited Mr. Helm to your room just now, on one pretext or another—I won’t ask what it was—hoping you could maneuver him into doing your grim work for you. When he balked, you did it yourself.”

  I glanced at Priscilla and she looked away. It occurred to me that I was getting a little tired of the legend of Triggerhappy Helm. So maybe I’d shot a little too soon once, in Mazatlán, did that mean I was going to commit everybody’s homicides for them? First Harsek had tried to cash in on my hasty reputation, and now this kid had come up with the same tired idea…

  Solana was looking at me again. He said, “I have already apologized to Mrs. Lujan for accusing her and pretending to arrest her. It was a necessary subterfuge to get her away from you and Miss Decker. I now apologize to you for my suspicions. I am satisfied that you are not involved in this scheme, although your country obviously is. I hope, since your superiors have seen fit not to give you a part in it, you will abide by their judgment and not interfere… Yes, Miss Decker?”

  Priscilla had looked up. “How could I have smuggled a gun to Henderson?” she demanded. “I didn’t have any camera cases—”

  Solana’s laughter cut her short. “My dear, it would be unchivalrous of me to suggest that your visible attributes are not entirely your own. However—” His glance touched the front of her lavender ski jacket. “However, when we get a matron to search you, I think we will find that certain improvements on nature were designed to serve a practical as well as an aesthetic function. It was a very small gun.”

  Priscilla flushed. She turned to me. “Matt, are you going to let this supercilious bastard—”

  Solana said sharply, “Miss Decker, there is absolutely no point in your trying to draw Mr. Helm into your troubles. You are obviously a U.S. agent on a mission so secret that even your colleagues in other agencies have not been informed. Having met your chief, I can understand: he is a man who would want to keep the credit for his own organization. Well, let him keep the blame, too.” He cleared his throat. “I admit I do not wholly understand the clandestine operation in which you are involved, señorita. I was deceived; I thought these flying objects were genuine, at least to the extent that they did exist and fly. Now it appears that some of them—perhaps all of them—existed only in the imaginations of the observers, and of Mr. Leonard’s agents who hired or persuaded the observers to make their false reports. As the late Mr. Henderson was persuaded.”

  I said, “Look, you’re jumping to conclusions, Solana. A lot of those reports mentioned U.S. insignia and uniforms, didn’t they?”

  “That was clever,” Solana said coldly. “That seemed to indicate that the United States was being victimized—framed, I believe is the word. But now that I learn who is behind the plot, I wonder if these identifications were not part of a deliberate plan to create an atmosphere of menace throughout the northern part of my country, in preparation for a political or military move on the part of our great neighbor to the north.”

  I said, “Hell, man, you can’t think we’re going to invade you!”

  Solana shrugged gracefully. “American troops have invaded Mexico before, señor. Exactly what demands will be made, I cannot guess, but it would be a cheap victory, would it not, if my government were to yield to the threat of a new U.S. weapon that did not actually exist?” He shrugged again. “In any case, the trial will bring out the details, I am sure. The fact is that a U.S. agent has been captured in the act of conspiring against a friendly neighboring government. Please observe, Mr. Helm, that I am being scrupulously fair. I could arrest you as well, and make my case stronger by presenting two American conspirators—”

  Carol moved. It was totally unexpected, at least by me, but obviously I’d underestimated her. She gave no warning, she made no speeches, she committed none of the usual beginner’s errors; she simply stepped out of her corner and threw her arms around Solana from behind.

  “Get his gun!” she gasped. “Oh, please, Matt, get his gun, quickly!”

  18

  A moment later I had Solana’s automatic from his hand and the two guns from his pockets: mine and Priscilla’s. I rearranged the arsenal so I could cover him with the weapon with which I was most familiar—the 9mm Browning—and nodded to Carol, who let go of him and stepped away, patting into place a lock of hair disarranged by the struggle.

  “Sorry, amigo,” I said to Solana. “Just one request. Please don’t tell me I can’t get away with it.”

  He made a little gesture with his raised hands, disclaiming responsibility. “It is your choice, señor Helm. I gave you an out, as you Yankees would say, because I believe that in your way you are a sincere and honest man. But if you wish deliberately to involve yourself in someone else’s crime—international crime—you will have to take the consequences. As will Mrs. Lujan.”

 
“Sure.” I looked at Carol. “You heard the man. You just stuck your neck way out. Why?”

  Carol licked her lips. “I… I’m an American citizen, aren’t I? And while I think what that woman is doing here is incredible and perfectly horrible—what I understand of it—she is an American agent, isn’t she? And I couldn’t very well let Mr. Solana put her on display in a Mexican courtroom as proof of some sneaky kind of U.S. aggression, could I? I mean, we don’t have to wash our dirty linen in public.” She glared at Priscilla. “Not that it doesn’t need washing badly!”

  “I see,” I said. “And as a patriotic American citizen, just what do you recommend as the next step.”

  “Why, get her back across the border fast!” Carol snapped. “Isn’t it obvious, darling? Get her out of Mexico before there’s a lot of dreadful and perfectly justified anti-American publicity. Without her, it’s just Mr. Solana’s word for what she was doing, and who’s going to listen to a crazy story by one Mexican official who maybe hates the United States?” She glanced at Solana. “I’m sorry, Ramón, but I just had to do it!”

  He smiled gently. “I see that now, señora. I should have anticipated it.”

  There was something just a little phony about the exchange. When you came right down to it, there was something phony about the whole performance, but this was not the time to determine who was being clever about what. Carol may have sensed the false note, because she went on quickly:

  “When we get home, I’m going to find out just exactly what this is all about, and if it’s really authorized by responsible people in Washington! I know some men who can find out for me, reporters. It looks like another one of those schemes the CIA is always being accused of, that I never really believed in before: intriguing and interfering in countries where we’ve got no business…”

  I said, “Take it easy, doll. Save the political harangues. Right now we’d better get the hell out of here as you suggest… What do you want?”

  Priscilla had moved up beside me. She was looking at me in a kind of expectant way. She held out her hand. “Why, I’d like my gun back, Matt.”

  I laughed at her. “You get back over there and keep your nose clean and your hands in plain sight. I don’t like to be played for a patsy, Decker. Here or in Mazatlán or anywhere.” I weighed the two extra weapons in my hand, slipped Solana’s under my belt, and regarded hers with a frown before stowing it away. It was a reasonably portable firearm, as revolvers go, but you could hardly call it tiny. “You didn’t have this stashed away in your falsies,” I said. “Where did it come from?”

  “I had it hidden under my pillow. Matt—”

  “And just why do you need a gun right now?”

  She shrugged. “Well, if you want to do it—”

  “Do what?”

  She glanced towards Solana. “Don’t be silly,” she said calmly. “Somebody’s got to shoot him, don’t they? Unless you know a better way of doing the job.”

  I heard a gasp from Carol. She started to speak, but I beat her to it. “There’s going to be no more shooting here tonight,” I said to Priscilla. “I’m getting awfully goddamned tired of you and your white-haired smoothie of a boss and your complicated intrigues. You’re going back to the States and we’re going to find out exactly what’s what and who’s who and we’re going to do it without murdering a single additional Mexican citizen, male or female, official or unofficial.”

  Priscilla said coldly, “Since you put it so personally, Matt, I am getting very tired of you, too—of you, and your sanctimonious ways, and your fantastic habit of wrecking carefully laid plans that are none of your damn business. And I warn you, if you don’t do exactly as you’re told, your hide will be drying on a Washington fence just as soon as my white-haired smoothie of a boss can drop a word in the right ear.” She jerked her head in Solana’s direction. “That man must be silenced. He must not be allowed to report what he’s learned here. Either you do the job or let me do it, but it’s got to be done!”

  I said, “Now that you’ve got all that off your chest, go over to that chair and sit down. And stay sat.”

  “Matt, I promise you, if you spoil this operation for us—”

  “Yeah, I know. And I’ll worry about my hide, later. Sit down!” I waited until she obeyed. “Carol.”

  “Yes. Matt, you’re not going to listen to her—”

  “Carol,” I said without looking around, “please go to our room, get out my suitcase, and open it. There’s a trick compartment…”

  I told her how to get into the compartment, and what to get out of it. She left, admitting a brief blast of wind and sand. Priscilla was sitting on her assigned chair, glaring at me, looking cheap and sullen and disheveled with her gale-damaged hairdo hanging over her ears in loops and wisps. I remembered the slim, pretty, virginal kid who’d met me at the airport in Mazatlán, and I couldn’t help being reminded, a little, of Vadya, who’d had the same knack of tailoring, not only her costume and makeup, but her whole personality, to the character she was playing.

  Well, it was a useful knack for anyone in our line of work, but I’d obviously underestimated Miss Priss from the start. I hadn’t thought she was old enough, or experienced enough, to put on so good an act—whichever Priscilla was the act. Perhaps this tough, tarty girl was the real Priscilla, and the big-eyed innocent in Mazatlán had been the fake…

  Solana stood in the middle of the room with his hands up. Despite the awkward position, he looked nice and relaxed, and maybe even a little wryly amused at his own predicament. There were some questions I would have liked to ask him, but not before witnesses—and particularly not before the witness we had—so I didn’t ask. We just waited, and presently Carol returned with a small, flat case, which she gave to me after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Matt, you’re not going to… to hurt him?”

  I said, “Sure I’m going to hurt him. I’m going to stick a sharp needle into him, brutally, cruelly, without anesthetic, because I’m just a sadist at heart. Shove your sleeve up a bit, Ramón, and remember, I’m the guy who’s keeping you alive. The lady over there wants you dead. So if you jump me, better make it good, because I’ll throw her the gun if I can, and if she gets it she’ll shoot, you know that.”

  I loaded the hypo I got from the little drug case. Solana watched me in silence. When I was finished, he asked, “May I inquire what you are planning to give me?”

  “About four hours’ sleep,” I said. “You’ll feel a little groggy when you wake up, but it’ll wear off fast.”

  Priscilla stirred. “Matt, so help me, if you don’t put him out for good—”

  I said, “You were running this your way and you ran yourself right into a trap. Now I’m running it my way… Okay, Ramón. Whichever arm you prefer to have punctured. Swell. Now come on over to the bed and lie down, like a good boy.”

  Five minutes later he was sound asleep on the bed. I looked at the two girls, without appreciation. Not that I don’t like girls, but this job had been overloaded with them from the start: Vadya, the blonde woman I’d shot, the red-haired girl who’d disappeared with Harsek, and Carol, who might originally have been classed as an innocent bystander, but was now as deeply involved as the rest of us, something I might feel guilty about later, when I had the time.

  And, of course, there was the girl of many faces—well, at least two—who called herself Priscilla Decker, whatever her real name might be.

  I said, “Okay, Priss. Now whistle up your magic carpet and get us the hell out of here.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what—”

  “Cut it out,” I said. “It was arranged for you to come here in Solana’s car, without any transportation of your own. It’s an isolated Mexican fishing village, sixty miles from nowhere, served by just one desert road that can be blocked anywhere between here and the border. You had some dirty work to do, cleaning up after friend Henderson—maybe I should say cleaning up on friend Henderson—and it could go wrong, as it did. Don’t tell me L
eonard didn’t arrange a back door of some kind for you. Well, now’s the time to produce the key to that door.”

  She said sharply, “If you think I’m going to help you—”

  I sighed. “Why didn’t you say so before I put him out? Now we’ll just have to sit here until he wakes up again and carts us off to prison.” I glanced at Carol. “Pick a chair and make yourself comfortable. The girl’s being stubborn. It looks as if we may be here for a while.”

  “Damn you!” This was Priscilla. “When we get back, I’ll have your scalp if it’s the last thing I do! And I don’t know if there’ll be room for all of us; I don’t know how big a plane they’ve got standing by.”

  I said, “We’ll worry about that when we see the plane. Where’s it supposed to make the pickup, on the local airstrip I saw from the road?”

  “Don’t be silly, right there in town, practically? No, there’s a place out on the desert just to the north where the highway runs straight for miles, roughly in the direction of the prevailing winds. We’ll have to watch our steps; there may be a road block if they’re still searching for Henderson.” She glanced at the dead man on the floor without visible emotion, and looked up again. “Well, all right, damn you. Get me the radio stuff out of my suitcase and I’ll make the emergency signal…”

  Leaving the room, a few minutes later, I glanced back. Solana was stretched out on the bed, breathing evenly; but that wasn’t what I was looking at. As I’d said earlier, it’s only actors and amateurs who don’t keep track of guns. I was checking on the little .22 derringer I had carefully neglected to pick up earlier, when I was collecting the rest of the armaments. It had been lying on the linoleum floor near the corner of the bed, but it was there no longer.

  I grinned to myself, and closed the door behind me. Everybody was full of tricks tonight, even I. With a little luck, some of them might come off.

  I put the girls into the front seat of Carol’s station wagon, with Carol driving, and got in back where I could keep an eye on them. We drove out of town, switched off the headlights as we passed the last adobe shacks, and proceeded cautiously along the empty highway that led northwards to Sonoita and the border.