“And?”
Bell shrugged. “We told him to keep his dinner engagement, but to be home in time to take the midnight call. He doesn’t know it, but we’ll be on the phone line too.”
“But my boy is Perkins, huh? I follow him no matter where he goes.”
“You tail him if he and Haynes split after having dinner. We want to know where Perkins goes, who he meets, if anyone. But should Perkins accompany Haynes to his home, you position yourself out front and wait. Now get this, it’s important. If Perkins leaves Haynes’ house before midnight, stick with him. But if it’s after midnight and Perkins still is inside the house, start watching for Haynes to appear in a window. Haynes is clued in on what to do if he gets his midnight call and definite instructions.
“If Boris Poskov wants Haynes to deliver the plans tonight, Haynes is going to appear in one of the windows for you to see. If he stands with his arms crossed on his chest, that means he’s been told to deliver immediately. In that case, you wait for Haynes to leave the house, even if Perkins departs. Let Perkins go, you ride with Haynes, tail him and don’t lose him. When he makes his delivery to Boris, drop Haynes and pick up Boris. He should lead you back to Perkins. Let Boris make his delivery to Perkins, then stick with Perkins. We’ll move in as fast as we can, but it might take a few minutes — and before you can ask, yes, we’re going to have people nearby. But they’re to remain out of sight. We don’t want Perkins spotting someone he knows.”
“And if Haynes doesn’t appear in his window?”
“He’ll appear. That’s one of his habits. He often stands looking out windows. We know it, and there’s no reason to think Perkins and his Russian friends don’t know it. So he’ll appear. He may even appear more than once. But you watch for the crossed arms. That’s the signal.
“If you see him standing there in any other position, and Perkins leaves the house, then you take Perkins and forget Haynes. It means Haynes didn’t get the call for some reason or that the delivery is scheduled for some other time than tonight, or that Perkins has cast all pretense aside, demanded and got the plans from Haynes and is leaving the house with them. We’ll pick it up from there. As soon as you and Perkins disappear I’ll have a man inside the house and we’ll know what’s going on.”
“What if this little game goes on for two or three days?” Shayne wanted to know.
“You’ll have relief tomorrow morning,” Bell replied. “I’m not sure just when. But I’ve got one of our people flying in, someone we’re sure Perkins doesn’t know. You’ll be contacted and relieved sometime in the morning.”
“Okay,” said Shayne. “So now I go to dinner?”
Bell looked at a cheap wrist watch. “You’ve got plenty of time. It’s only eight o’clock.” He looked up. “Play all of this like you’re walking on eggs, Mike. We want Perkins.”
“Know what?” Shayne said sagely. “I’ve got a stinking suspicion that if I were to bet myself a hundred smacks that Mr. Haynes is at this moment engaged in altering some calculations on a set of computer plans I wouldn’t lose a dime.”
Bell’s smile was tight. “Maybe you should be a gambler instead of a shamus, Mike.”
III
Most tail jobs were a chore. Like getting up in the morning is for some people. Or going to bed at night is for other people.
Mike Shayne didn’t like shadowing. It bored him. But picking up and trailing Jack Perkins and Albert Haynes reeked of intrigue and the detective had all of his wits tuned as he paid his tab at the Speckled Plate and walked out of the supper club behind the squat man and the Negro.
A parking lot attendant brought a shiny Continental to Haynes, who tipped the attendant and got behind the steering wheel. Perkins slid into the front seat beside Haynes and the Continental eased away quietly as Shayne passed two dollars to the Cuban boy and took the wheel of his convertible. He rolled out to the street. The Continental was a half block ahead now and picking up speed.
Shayne trailed Haynes and Perkins across Julia Tuttle Causeway, then along Biscayne and around the Orange Bowl. They headed south on South Dixie Highway. The detective kept cars between himself and the Continental and was satisfied. He had one eye ahead, watching the Continental, and the other in the rear view mirror, attempting to pick up anyone who might be tailing him. Bell should have a man back there. The Russians could too.
Haynes finally turned into a side street in a quiet neighborhood and Shayne was forced to roll on past the intersection. They were out where the streets were empty and to turn would have been a sure tipoff to Jack Perkins.
Shayne rolled another block before cutting back. No headlights were behind him. He grunted and fed gas to the convertible. The drizzle had stopped but the night was heavy with humidity and he kept his windshield clear with the wipers. He made another right turn and rolled over to the street Haynes had taken. He turned left. No Continental taillights were in sight. It was okay. Haynes should have been off the street. His address was just a half block ahead.
Shayne pulled into the curbing and braked. He cut the lights and sat for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the night light. Then he vacated the car and moved along the dark sidewalk, shrugging the gun rig against his left rib cage into a more comfortable position.
The Haynes house had been constructed back from the street, perhaps forty yards from the sidewalk. A driveway went straight up the west property line to a two-stall garage that was a part of the house. Twenty yards across the front of the lot was the entry sidewalk that went to the front door. The yard was dotted with heavy shadows of what Shayne figured would be green things in sunshine.
He moved beyond the entry walk without breaking stride, keeping a sharp eye on the front yard. Light came from three windows of what probably was the Haynes’ living room. The light did not extend far, but it provided a backdrop for the yard shadows. Shayne inventoried the shadows as he walked, looking for a foreign bulk, something that was not shaped right — or that moved.
It had occurred to him that Boris Poskov might be a wily fox. Boris could be stationed somewhere around the Haynes house, watching for Haynes’ return from his dinner engagement, making sure the man was in the house before he made his midnight call. It would be a simple matter for Boris to walk a few blocks down the shadowed street to a busy thoroughfare and use a public phone booth.
It also had occurred to Shayne that one or more of Bell’s people should be in the vicinity.
Shayne stepped into the deep shadow of a fat shrub at the corner of the Haynes yard. He inched around to the house side of the shrub and sat squatted, inventorying everything minutely now. The houses on each side of the Haynes place were dark. That was good.
The neighborhood was quiet, seemed settled for the night. Far off in the distance somewhere, a dog barked. The bark alerted Shayne to a new potential danger. The possibility of Haynes having a dog on the premise was discomforting. A widower living alone in a large house easily might have a dog. And some dogs, even enclosed in a house, were extremely sensitive to movement outside. Shayne wondered if Bell had checked for a dog.
Then Shayne saw Haynes appear in a front window. Haynes stood straight, seemingly staring out on the night. Suddenly he lifted his right arm. But all he did was tip a glass against his lips and turn and disappear.
Shayne took a deep breath. Everything seemed normal. Haynes and Perkins were having after-dinner drinks. He glanced at the luminous hands of his wrist watch. Eleven-forty-five. Too early for the Boris call, too early for a signal.
The detective thought about moving closer to the house, then sat on his haunches in the grass. He already had an excellent vantage. He could see the windows, the front door, the driveway. Dampness seeped into his trousers. He swore under his breath and put his feet under him again, remaining squatted. Then he heard voices. They were coming from his right, seemed to be out on the sidewalk. He inched back against the shrub and remained frozen.