5
There was a stealthy knock on the door. Shayne’s head lifted off the pillow. Sarah was fitted against him. From a slight change in tension he could tell that either the knock or his sudden movement had awakened her. The knock was repeated, and a voice whispered, “Shayne.”
He swung out of bed naked. He pulled open the door, and a figure slipped in.
“Don’t turn on a light. The fuzz is out front.” The man who entered had a small, thin-beam flashlight. He flashed it toward the bed. Sarah scrambled for the sheet.
He turned the light upward, showing his face. It was the security man Shayne had spotted earlier in the lobby, Valenti.
“We can hold them only two minutes. Get some clothes on. Both of you.”
“Why the hell should we?” Shayne said mildly.
The beam stabbed his chest. “A guy complained of a stickup in the elevator. That’s one thing don’t happen in this hotel. I mean, it never happened yet, and we want to keep the record.”
Shayne blinked. “The son of a bitch reported it? That surprises the hell out of me.”
“Move.”
Shayne felt for his clothes. “Call Larry Zito. He’ll tell you it’s O.K.”
“The message is from Zito. He wants you out in two minutes. Give me any trouble, and it’s an automatic hit.”
He pushed a heavy.45 into the light. Sarah gasped. Shayne looked down at the gun stupidly.
“Do you know who I am?”
“We know.”
“Then put it away, for Christ’s sake. Sarah, if he says you’re included, you’re included.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with any robbery! Why should I have to—”
Valenti stepped around, his back to the door. “You got off the airplane with him. You’ve been with him most of the time since. They’ll take you in to find out what you know about him. We don’t want anybody busted from here.”
Shayne said, “Jesus, baby, I’m sorry. I fouled this up. Better get dressed.”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind,” she said with spirit. “Just because I made the mistake of going to bed with—”
Shayne took one long step to the bed, lifted her out, and dumped her on the floor. “He said two minutes. That won’t give you time to put on makeup.”
When she didn’t move, he kicked her hard in the ribs. She jumped to her feet. Valenti ran the flashlight down her body.
“Terrific,” he commented between his teeth.
“But it’s just fantastic!” Sarah exclaimed, ignoring him. “Who in heaven’s name is Zito? What could I tell the police?”
“My name and address, baby,” Shayne said, “and they’ll extradite me. Too bad, but it’s one of those things. They’re going to cover for us — they’ve got to.”
She wriggled into a dress, almost crying. “Mike, they’re hoodlums, we can’t trust them. They’ll kill us once they get us out of the hotel.”
“No, they won’t. That would make more trouble for everybody. They abide by the law down here. It’s the only way they can operate.”
He had dressed rapidly. Valenti relieved him of his pistol but let him keep his flask. Sarah swept the little bottles and tubes off the bureau into her big handbag.
“My clothes,” she said helplessly.
“We’ll get them back to you,” Valenti said. “O.K., the babe first. Turn right outside.”
He killed his flashlight. Outside, he herded them quickly around the pool and past the line of cabanas. He told them to wait while he checked the road.
Coming back, he asked Shayne, “Can you drive a motorcycle?”
“I grew up on the damn things.”
“It’s in the bushes at the bend. You got a long coast downhill. Don’t start the engine till you have to. No lights. If you see any cars coming, get the hell off the road and lie down. I mean hit the dirt, understand me? Bear left at the fork — you’ll see signs to the airport.”
“How exciting,” Sarah said bitterly. “Have the time of your life in swinging St. Albans.”
Suddenly there was a heavy booming explosion from the casino. It blew out the windows and flooded the grounds around the building with a quick blaze of light. Sarah whirled into Shayne’s arms. Somebody shouted.
“Follow the airport signs!” Valenti whispered. “Get going. The service gate before you come to the passenger area — somebody ought to be waiting for you.”
“I need the gun.”
“They don’t want you to have a gun, Shayne. If anything happens, stay where you are and don’t make it worse. Are you sure you can start a BMW?”
“Oh, God,” Shayne said.
Lights were flashing on all over the hotel and in the poolside bungalows. Valenti ran toward the casino.
Pulling Sarah with him, Shayne had no trouble finding the motorcycle at the edge of the road. He wheeled it out.
“Mike, concentrate for a minute,” Sarah said. “Maybe we shouldn’t do what they tell us. This could be a trap. They don’t want us arrested at the hotel. What if the police are waiting at the airport? That would be wonderful for me, wouldn’t it? Whatever dumb thing you did, they’ll think I was in on it.”
“I’ve still got your necklace,” Shayne said. “If you want it back, get on.”
“God,” she moaned. “I’ll never, never—
Hiking her skirt up high, she swung up behind him, and clutched him about the waist. He pushed off.
The sky was lighter in the east; it was nearly morning. Shayne followed the dotted line down the middle of the road. It dipped toward the shore and then turned inland. When the road leveled out, he switched on the ignition and kicked the engine into life. At the fork he turned on his headlights briefly, saw the airport arrow, and leaned into a long upward curve.
Sarah’s arms were locked around him, her chin pressing painfully against his spine. When he saw the perimeter lights of the airfield, he throttled down and looked for the gate.
“You son of a bitch,” she said. “You rotten, lying, cheating, stealing—”
The gate swung open. Without his lights, Shayne turned too sharply, and felt the back wheel beginning to slide. He gave the engine a quick spurt of power to right himself, and braked to a stop.
“We’ll take the bike,” a voice said politely. “Get in the plane.”
Sarah continued to hold on to him desperately, and he had to break her fingers apart to force her to let go.
“This is crazy. I didn’t do anything.”
“They’re waiting on you,” the voice said. “Let’s not have a big conversation.”
She twisted out of Shayne’s grasp, but the man who had been waiting for them walked her, struggling, to the waiting plane. Lights flashed, a command was called, and a power cart on the ground began blowing air into the turbines. Pressure built up with a whine, and as Shayne and Sarah stumbled into the cabin, both engines came alive with a shattering roar.
The cabin was furnished with a bar and two separate clusters of leather armchairs. Larry Zito and two others were strapped into the black chairs, waiting for the takeoff. Zito peered up at Shayne with extreme distaste.
“Sit in back. I don’t want to talk to you, even.”
“Jesus, Larry, I’m sorry.”
Zito popped his undersized cigar into his mouth to discourage explanations, and dismissed Shayne with a curt movement of one hand. Shayne and the girl took seats in the second group of chairs. She looked pale and haggard in the bright lights. Sensing this, she opened her bag and went to work on her mouth.
Presently the plane wheeled around, headed along one of the runways, and lifted. The sun was beginning to show above the horizon.
When they leveled off, Shayne unstrapped himself and asked Sarah if she wanted a drink. She shook her head shortly.
“No. Don’t get me anything. Don’t apologize anymore. Have the common decency to shut up.”