For a brief paralysed moment, Umney stared, then threw himself on the floor as another bullet smashed the screen of the big TV set by which he was standing.
Umney, his heart hammering, sweat pouring down his face, lay still. To his horror, he found his hands were lying in Goble’s blood.
Hearing the two rifle shots and the thud of Goble’s body as it hit the floor, Silk swung off the bed, slid into a black shirt and black trousers and into sandals. His movements were fast but unflustered. He snatched up the target rifle, crossed the room in two swift strides and stuffed a .38 automatic into his hip pocket, then he opened the door and stepped out into the half dark corridor.
His thin lips were drawn back in a snarl of fury.
‘Ross! Mitch!’
He started down the corridor, then paused as he saw Umney come crawling out of the room above the swimming pool. Umney was making a gibbering noise of fear.
The sun was now above the trees and there was enough light for Silk to see Umney’s bloodstained hands. He moved by Umney and peered into the room.
A beam of sunlight fell directly on Goble. One quick look told Silk all he wanted to know. He reached forward and pulled the door shut, then putting down the rifle, he caught hold of Umney by his shirt and dragged him upright.
‘I told you! I warned you!’ Umney said hysterically. ‘He’s out there! He’s going to kill us both!’
Silk slammed him hard against the wall, shook him and then slapped his face.
‘He’s not going to kill you and he’s not going to kill me!’ Silk bit off the words. ‘Mitch was unlucky, but not us. Okay, so he’s out there. He’s on our ground! We’ll take him!’
Shaking, Umney stared at Silk.
‘He’s killed Mitch!’ he cried. ‘He’s out there! If we show ourselves, he’ll shoot us! You said you could take care of him, and now look what’s happened!’
Scarcely listening, Silk’s mind was busy. The whole operation had been an utter foul-up, but, at least, out of the mess, he had got Grandi’s promise to pay two hundred thousand dollars to kill Frost, but the agreement had been to make Frost sweat, and not to hurry the killing. Silk realised now he had greatly underestimated Frost. He should have listened to Umney’s warning that Frost wasn’t going to be scared. Frost had had the nerve to come out here and kill Mitch. The chances were that Frost was still out there, rifle in hand. Silk was very confident in his own shooting. If Frost was out there, then he was as good as dead. Silk was determined to earn the promised money, but he wasn’t going to take any chances unless he was sure of getting the money.
‘Stay right here,’ he said to Umney, and he moved swiftly to the office. The curtains were drawn but, taking no chances, Silk snatched up the telephone, sat on the floor, away from the window, and called the Spanish Bay hotel.
The time now was 04.55.
At first the night reception clerk refused to connect Silk with Grandi’s suite at such an hour, but when Silk said there was an emergency, he did so.
Grandi’s voice came on the line. Silk was surprised how alert Grandi sounded, but he wasn’t to know Grandi had been sitting by the window all night, mourning for his daughter.
Speaking softly, Silk explained the situation.
‘There are two things I can do, Mr. Grandi,’ he concluded. ‘It’s for you to decide. Frost has killed my partner. I can call the police and they’ll take over and arrest Frost. He’ll talk. The newspapers will headline your daughter. The best solution would be for me to fix him right now if he is out there, and I think he is. But before I go hunting for him, I want to know I get paid. What’s it to be?’
‘Kill him now and you’ll get paid,’ Grandi said, a snarl in his voice, and he hung up.
For a minute or so, Silk remained on the floor, his evil smile in evidence. He thought, then nodding, he got up and joined Umney who was leaning against the wall of the corridor, his face ashen as he breathed in frightened gasps.
‘Grandi says take him now,’ Silk said. ‘So, we take him.’
Umney stared at Silk, horror in his eyes.
‘Not me!’ he quavered. ‘This is your end of the pitch! I’m staying right here!’
‘He may have gone,’ Silk said, ‘but we’ve got to find out. Now you are going through the door, Ross, with your hands on your head and you’re going to yell I’m not here and not to shoot. Then when he shows himself, I’ll take him.’
‘You’re crazy! The moment I show myself, he’ll kill me!’ Umney began trembling.
‘No, he won’t. He wants me. Come on, Ross, get going!’
‘No! You can’t do this to me, Lu! I’m not going! I’m not going to walk out there to be killed!’
Silk transferred the rifle to his left hand and jerked out the .38. He held the barrel within inches of Umney’s sweating face.
‘Make up your goddamn mind!’ he snarled, his face a mask of vicious fury. ‘If you don’t get moving in ten seconds, I’ll blow your head off!’
Umney sucked in his breath with a sob.
The look in the one glittering eye told him he was within seconds of death.
‘Okay... okay... I’ll go.’
Silk stepped back.
‘Take it dead slow. Start shouting as soon as you open the door. He won’t kill you, but I’ll nail him. Get going!’
Umney stumbled down the corridor to the door leading into the garden. Silk shoved the .38 into his hip pocket, then moved silently after Umney, the rifle now in both hands.
Umney looked beseechingly at him as his hand fumbled for the door handle.
‘Yell loud!’ Silk said, ‘and hurry it up! He may have gone.’
As Frost saw Goble reel back, blood on his face, then drop out of sight, he felt a surge of elation run through him. He saw a movement of white through the window and immediately fired again. He heard the smash of glass as the TV tube exploded.
Then moving swiftly, crouched down, keeping under cover of the flowering shrubs he changed his position some fifty yards further away.
He paused and flattened out, knowing he was completely concealed. He wondered if he had killed Umney. He thought not, but with luck he could have winged him, but he must still count two against one.
He lay there, listening, but heard nothing. He was able to survey the whole front of the restaurant. There was no cover. If either Silk or Umney came out through the front entrance, they would be committing suicide. There was probably a side or a back door. He wanted them penned up in the restaurant. Once they were in the open they could split up, and that would shorten the odds in their favour.
Moving silently, still behind the screen of shrubs, Frost surveyed the left side of the restaurant and saw a door at the head of a short flight of wooden stairs. He kept moving, and around the back of the restaurant he saw the staff entrance. This was bare of cover. He decided if they were coming out they would use the side door. He moved back until he was some sixty yards from the side door. He was in a perfect position: complete cover, yet with a clear field of fire. He settled down to wait.
By now the sun had come up behind the trees, casting lean shadows. Frost looked at his watch. The time was close on 05.00. He wondered at what time the staff would arrive. If Silk and Umney elected to stay put, under cover, he would have a problem, but he doubted if they would. They would have to get Goble’s body out of sight. Silk wouldn’t want to get involved with the police. Silk had to try to kill him before the staff arrived.
A half hour crept by, but Frost was used to waiting. He remembered he had waited four long hours in the jungle for a sniper to show. He relaxed, the rifle at his shoulder, aimed at the door and waited.
There was no sound except the distant traffic, no movement except a hawk floating in the sky.