“Hardly. I am very interested in Kurt Robl and his associates. I am looking forward to a good chat with him.”
“As far as I am concerned he is all yours. If the others agree?”
Sones waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just thu money/’ Stocker said.
“Then we are agreed. My men will leave. There is the Lambretta agency next door, we operate from there. If you will excuse me.”
As he turned to issue his orders there was a scuffle at the door and at least twenty revolvers sprang into sight upon the instant, trained upon the opening. A tall, leathery man in a slightly askew black wig was pushed through the door, arms pinioned behind him by Billy Schultz.
“Snooping around outside,” Billy said.
“Tell this fool to let me go—oww!” He writhed as Billy gave a twitch at his imprisoned arms. Sones looked at him distastefully and shook his head in apparent disgust.
“We do not need you here, Higginson. Let him go, Schultz. He wants to leave.”
“No, I don’t, Sones, not on your life.” He brushed his crumpled sleeves and straightened his tie. “This is a CIA job, out of the country, not FBI. Your jurisdiction ends at the border.”
“My jurisdiction ends where I say it does. Out. That is the door behind you.”
There was the sharp cascading roar of motors from beyond this mentioned door and an instant later a small fleet of Lambretta motor scooters zipped by, the wasplike buzz of their engines drowning all conversation until they had passed.
“There is nothing you can do to stop me, Sones. You may not remember, but this is a joint operation. We work together. You can use my help.”
“The kind of help you gave me?” Tony asked, quite bitter.
“Accidents happen, Hawkin, you can’t blame me.”
“I certainly can ...”
“Gentlemen,” Goldstein interrupted. “There is room enough for everyone in this game. Sit, Higginson, sit. You wouldn’t mind if I asked you how you got here?”
“Followed you. Been onto you ever since you knocked Hawkin on the head outside my place.”
“A regrettable error over which I have lost sleep ...”
The phone rang, long and stridently and the room fell every eye on Timberio as he hurried over and lifted the receiver.
“Pronto” He listened briefly, dropped it back into place and turned about, smiling quietly. “That was one of my men. He has seen the car. Going past the bull ring.”
“Where is that?” more than one voice asked.
Timberio issued more shouted orders, then dug th tered sideboard until he found a map of the city, rattled it open and jabbed his finger on the northern end.
“The bull ring is here. You will notice that this city is spread along the shores of a fish-hook-shaped bay, the point of wiiich curls up to the right in the form of a peninsula. If the car continues onto the point of the hook it is trapped, for there is no way out. Except by sea, of course there are numerous private docks along the harbor side. If they do not go onto the peninsula there are only two other roads they can take. This one here that continues on a few miles to the small resort of Pie de la Cuesta, but it ends at the Army air base there so they can go no farther. But here, at this turnoff, begins the road to Zihuatanejo and the north.”
“Do you have a man at this junction?” Higginson asked.
“But of course. Yesterday I was born not.”
“What if they change cars?” Tony asked, and instantly regretted it as he received a number of cold looks. Timberio shrugged broadly.
“We must hope they do not. In any case I have my men | to auto rental agencies and monitoring the police frequencies to note stolen cars. We are doing all that we can. I have men also here on the docks to observe any attempt to leave by sea.” Tony followed the pointing finger and had an instant vision of those docks, of embarking there for his scuba diving tour, of later swimming among the moored boats.
“These power boats that are moored here. What do they do?” lie asked.
“Fishing, deep-sea fishing for the tourists, and after sailfish for the most part.”
“How far out do they go?”
“Fifty, a hundred miles, depends where the fish are.”
Then, in that moment, it all became very clear to Tony. The parts fell into place with a sharp click and he knew exactly what the fleeing confidence men had in mind.
“Look, listen,” he said with rising excitement, pulling the map to him. “Let us just try to think like these crooks we are after. They pull a con deal and race away, in a big rush so we can’t grab them and get our money back. But once they are in the clear they are in no hurry, or they should be in no hurry. They could just go into hiding and we would never be able to find them. But they keep driving, all night, in a country where night driving is very dangerous. We have ruled a plane out, there is no particular need to go to Acapulco to find an airport. But they do come here, moving very fast, although up until the time they arrive they have no idea they are being followed. Acapulco is a dead end as far as roads go, you have to leave by either air or sea unless you retrace your steps. Air is out—”
“And so is the sea,” Sones said. “There are no ships leaving.”
“Just a moment, hear me out. Look, here is the city and here is the entire Pacific Ocean, filled with ships for all we know. What is to prevent a freighter from stopping outside the territorial limit here and picking up people from a boat? International waters, no laws broken. And these big fishing boats can get out there and back without trouble.”
“It is possible but ...”
“It’s the only thing possible. But listen, plans must change, there is an alarm, they find the radio, they know they are being followed. But they are pros, they don’t panic. They change cars. They do not board the boat in the harbor because they do not know how many eyes are watching, but arrange to be picked up away from the city. To the north perhaps?”
“No,” Timberio said, “wrong kind of coast.”
“Then to the south. A secluded inlet, a quick boarding, off to sea, no witnesses, no one the wiser. They get clear away. What do you think?”
“Hogwash,” Sones grunted, in a hoggish manner. “Just empty theory.”
“But if it’s true we have to move fast. If we don’t act now and head south and search the coast it may just be too late.”
“We cannot scatter our forces. We hole here until we have further information.”
“Makes sense to me,” Higginson said, tugging contemplatingly at his wattled neck. “I think your contract man may be right, Sones.”
“I did not kill ...”
“We hold here.”
“Your choice. But I don’t see why I can’t just mosey along up there and see what is going on.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tony said, instantly.
“Me too,” Stocker added.
Sones looked back and forth from one of them to the other, eyes red with suspicion. “This is a combined operation and leave us not forget that. Schultz, you go with them as well.”
“Take one of these,” Timberio said, digging two civilian band handy-talky radios out of the cupboard. “Let us know if you find anything. We will call you about developments at this end.”
“What is happening?” Lizveta Zlotnikova called out from the Cadillac as they passed. “I am told nothing.”
“No time,” Tony called back. “In the restaurant, ask them.”
The bright red Lincoln Continental was parked around the ner. It had a portrait of a bearded octogenarian painted on the door and was labeled in gold leaf coronel glanders Mississippi fried chicken. The engine surged to life under Higginson’s touch when they climbed in, then squealed about in a sharp turn and headed north.
“There’s the sign,” Tony called out, “to highway 200.”