Zito, too, was unwilling to talk to him, so after Shayne finished a cigarette, he fastened himself in again and went to sleep.
Someone was shaking him.
He started violently forward against the belts. When he realized where he was, he glanced out the window beside him and saw the long spit of sand with its string of wedding-cake hotels, and beyond, the familiar profile of downtown Miami.
Zito said, “Now, I want that three thousand you held out on me.”
“What three thousand?”
Zito cuffed him lightly with his open hand. “You stuck up the guy for thirteen. You only gave me ten. I want the rest of it.”
He held out his hand.
Shayne said indignantly, “He told you thirteen? He conned you, Larry! I wasn’t trying to make a profit, I turned over the entire take.” He unsnapped the belts and stood up. “Shake me down, and if you find more than coffee money, I’ll eat it.”
Zito summoned one of his companions, who went through all Shayne’s pockets. When he brought out the emerald necklace, Sarah said quickly, “That’s mine.”
“Hell, give it to her,” Shayne said. “What did you do with the guy, Larry, reimburse him thirteen?”
“That’s right,” Zito said grimly. “And thirteen is what you owe me, with full vigorish, starting now.”
Shayne winced. “These expense-account types — crooked as a corkscrew. I wish you’d checked with me, Larry. I’d say you were too gullible.”
“He told the cops thirteen, and we had to accept it.”
“So that’s why he reported it,” Shayne said. “There’s a little larceny in everybody. I know his address — three-nine-four-seven Maple Drive — and I don’t intend to forget it. Jesus.”
He dropped into his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. “It used to be ten. Now it’s thirteen. I seem to be going backward. At least you didn’t bill me for damages to the casino.”
“What damages to the casino?”
Shayne looked at Zito. “Didn’t you set off that bomb to keep the cops busy?”
“What bomb?”
Shayne told him about the explosion. All three men were clearly hearing about it for the first time. Zito asked for exact details, but there wasn’t much more Shayne could tell him.
With a visible effort, Zito brought the conversation back to the earlier subject. How was Shayne proposing to raise the thirteen thousand dollars?
Shayne said eagerly, “I’ve still got a few angles I haven’t tried. People I can hit for a contribution, and if they don’t come through, certain confidential information is going to be leaked to wives or the newspapers. I’ve picked up a few nuggets over the years.”
His face clouded. “And to be realistic, the way I’ve been going lately, somebody’ll decide to be brave, and I’ll end up being rapped for extortion.”
“We’ve got a better idea, Mike,” Zito said. “I talked to the Don on the phone. Come out to the island with us. He wants to see you.”
6
They were met by a long gray Cadillac with room for everybody.
“I’ll get a cab,” Sarah said. “I’m in the phone book. Call me when my luggage gets back, and I’ll come out and pick it up. Good-bye, everybody. It’s been fun.” She added bitterly, “I’m lying, of course.” One of the men who had helped bring them back from St. Albans cut her off as she started away. She turned quickly. Shayne, his hands in his pockets, avoided her eyes.
“I know we’ve ruined your vacation,” Zito said. “Let me make up for it in a small way. I’d like to take you to a shop and let you pick out something to be charged to me.”
“I don’t want anything more to do with this,” she said sharply. “This is a free country, thank God. Isn’t it?”
“If you don’t want to do it the easy way,” Zito said, still polite, “we’ll do it the hard way.”
His eyes flickered, and the man standing nearest Sarah put her into the front seat of the Cadillac. Shayne got in back, between Zito and another man who had been addressed as Skeets. He dozed fitfully until he realized they were starting across the MacArthur Causeway between Miami and Miami Beach.
“Hey, what is this? You said you were going to get her a present.”
“I changed my mind.”
“But what’s the point?” Shayne said. “I don’t know what impression you get, but we’ve only known each other two days. It’s purely a sex thing.”
“I see that.”
“I’m kind of groggy. I know I’ve made a few problems, but what I’m trying to tell you, she had no part of it.”
“Everything’s going to work out,” Zito said.
Shayne bit his knuckles. “You understand, I’m not trying to give you a hard time. You’ve got me where I don’t have a hell of a lot of choice, personally. I never thought this would happen, but goddamn it, it has. As I say, O.K. But if you want me to show any kind of motivation at all, you’ll drop her at the heliport and let her phone for a taxi.”
Zito said gently, “She had reservations for three days at the hotel, so nobody expects her back in Miami. This is the way we want to do it, to plug the loopholes. We don’t know who she’d phone. Maybe nobody, but why take the chance? It’s a couple of days, maximum. Then we’ll take a fresh look at the situation.”
Sarah twisted. “Mike, are you going to let them get away with this?”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I know I already said that. I really did think the guy would take the loss and shut up.”
A red light was blinking ahead, mounted on a police cruiser pulled over out of the eastbound traffic. As they came abreast, Sarah’s hand darted out, and the Cadillac’s horn blared. The man on her right jabbed her with his bunched fingers and pulled her arm away from the wheel. The cop, writing in a notebook, didn’t look up.
“Childish,” Zito said.
Halfway across, the Cadillac swung down onto a ramp to Ponce de Leon, one of a group of oval manmade islands bisected by the causeway. The northern half had been in underworld hands since the days of the celebrated Al Capone. Dominick De Blasio, the Mafia boss, lived in a big Spanish-style fortress at the tip of the oval. Five or six other houses were scattered about on the carefully maintained grounds, occupied by less important hoodlums and relatives. During times of trouble, the women and children moved to one of the Mafia hotels on the Beach, guns were brought out of concealment, and the paths along the water were patrolled around the clock by German shepherds and armed men.
The gray Cadillac slowed at a checkpoint and was waved on. Shayne had gone to considerable trouble to get past this checkpoint, but he stayed relaxed, blinking frequently, his head rolling as the big car swung around the curving drive. He knew exactly where he was, having put in long hours studying aerial photographs. He had buzzed the property in a light plane, had reconnoitered along the shore by boat, and he probably knew more than De Blasio himself about the utility and electrical and protection systems.
“That’s the last time,” Sarah said fervently, “the last time in my entire life I agree to have a drink with somebody I don’t know. No matter how interesting he looks.”
Shayne sighed. “Will you stop squawking, damn it? He said you’d be all right.”
Two men were lounging on the front terrace of the main house. Only Shayne and Zito got out of the car when it stopped. Sarah sent Shayne a last terrified look, and he made a gesture meant to be encouraging.
The car moved on. As Shayne and Zito passed the two men on the terrace, one of them remarked, “Isn’t that Mike Shayne?”
Zito, jumpy enough at best, became even more agitated as they entered the house. His hands kept moving — tucking in his shirt, fingering his face, brushing nonexistent lint from his clothes.