Shooting Script

He jerked die refrigerator angrily and snatched out a botde.

I said wearily: 'You're right in a way, Ned – but it wasn'tanything personal against your career.'

'God help me when you have a crack at me career, then.'

I got up and walked to the window and stared out across the city. Far off, down by the docks along the river in the old town, a column of thick black smoke crawled sluggishly up the quiet 'sky. And nearer, but to the north, a haze of whitish smoke – perhaps over the radio station. But that was all. From up here, in the cool hushed hotel suite, you couldn't see much but the tops of the royal palms along the drive, the top storeys of the houses down the broadavenidas.

About the view you'd get from a jet on its firing pass. From here – or there – you wouldn't see anybody move: wouldn't see anybody die.

'People like us, Ned,' I said. 'We're damn useful in the Battle of Britain or Mig Alley or something… But between wars, they ought to lock us up in cages. We've no damn business in places like this, times like this. That's why I took you out. In the end, there was another reason – but that was the real one. Pros like us don't belong here.'

'It's myjob, matey.'

'Yes. But I don't have to like your job, Ned.'

He sneered. 'You've got bloody righteous since you started flying charter.'

I shrugged. 'Or since I stopped knocking down towns.'

'We weren't going to take out the town-'

'Weren't you?' I jerked around. 'Weren't you? You were damn well going to do what the man upstairs told you. If he'd said knock down the old town, you'd have knocked it down. That's your job.'

We stared at each other.

There was a soft tap on the door.

Ned swung round, patted the revolver in his shoulder-harness, then nodded. The guard swung open the door, clamped his hand quickly back on the sub-machine gun.

An urgent, pleading female voice muttered fast Spanish and sounded familiar. I glanced at Luiz; he was frozen in his chair.

Then the guard stepped forward, out of sight. There was athud – and Whitmore walked in, carrying the limp guard in one hand.

Ned grabbed for his gun. Whitmore's free hand made one flickering movement and was pointing a big automatic at Ned's middle.

Thirty years I've played this scene,' he drawled, 'and you don't think I've learned ityet?

Luiz said: 'What the hell kept you?'

J.B., with the guard's sub-machine gun, came in and closed the door. Whitmore took Ned's revolver, waved him back into a chair, then saw the glass of beer.

He finished it in one gulp. 'You realise I been awake since damn near midnight? – when they blew in the Hall of Justice. Just up the road from us.' He turned to Luiz. 'What for Chris-sake d'you mean, what kept us? Only three-quarters of an hour since you told Jiminez where you was. Took us all that time to borrow a bunch of luggage and get a cab and make like we were tourists rushing for the best hotel in time of crisis.'

For once, he was fairly smartly dressed: light fawn trousers, a darker fawn jacket, white shirt, evena de. Clearly anorteamericanoand if you didn't recognise him he might well have been a stranded tourist.

'Anyhow,' he added, 'you don't think we came to rescueyou, huh? We just figured Carr might be running out of your cigarettes.' He lifted his left hand, found die guard was still dangling from it, and tossed him on die sofa. Then took out a pack of cigarettes and threw them at me.

J.B. came forward and dumped die machine gun on top of the refrigerator. She was wearing a slim white skirt and a blue-and-green impressionist jungle of a blouse. She lifted a hand: 'Hi, Keith.'

I waved dazedly back. I was just beginning to catch up on Luiz's plotting.

Then she saw the dark bruise on my chin. 'Did that happen when you crashed?'

'No. Just a couple of short conversations widi die Air Force.'

She spun round on Ned. 'Where's a first-aid box?'

He shrugged. 'He doesn't need one. It'll get better with time. If he has any time.' Then somediing clicked and he satup straight. 'Christ -she was why… you knewshe was here. You didn't want to leave a single Vamp alive and shooting.' He leant back in his chair. 'I never thought I'd seeyou take a risk for anybody else, Keith.'

J.B. was looking puzzled. 'What's this all about?' Luiz said sadly: 'In order to stopthélast jet taking off, we had to collide with it. Carr was most brave. He totally forgot I was also on board.'

Whitmore whistled softly. 'So that's how come you lost the ship, huh? Well, we can get another.'

'Another?'

'Ned was sitting up straight again. 'Hell, yes. I got a picture to make.' He frowned and poured himself more beer. 'But would've been better to use the same one that took part in a revolution. Great publicity angle.'

Ned was staring at him as if he'd turned green and bug-eyed. Then he leaned back again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Finally, he said: 'Well, all your actors are here. Did any of you remember to bring a script?'

Whitmore waved the pistol. But I said: 'It's a fair question: wheredo we go from here?'

'Hell, we just bust through the Jiminez downtown. It ain't cordoned off except up around the radio station.'

I shook my head. 'You can do what you damn like – but I'm getting J.B. out of the country. There's a lot of shooting yet to come.'

She smiled, frowned, grinned, scowled – a fast flip through the whole expressions catalogue. 'It's a nice thought, Keith, but-'

Luiz said firmly: 'The old town is cordoned off, by now. Boscogave the orders upstairs, when he heard Jiminez had taken the radio. That is his tactic now: to pin Jiminez down -and to wait. For some jets to become serviceable, to see which way the Army jumps. And the longer he makes Jiminez wait, the less chance Jiminez has of a popular uprising. People do not jump on a bandwagon that is not moving.' And his face was suddenly old, tired; the face of a man who has heard the chariot pass him by. 'It will take time, now. Better get out, Walt.'

Whitmore frowned. 'Yeah? Hell – and we got to be back onthe picture day after tomorrow.'

Luiz smiled a little crookedly. 'And of course, there is that.' Ned was looking at Whitmore, still not quite believing in him. 'This is just a couple of days' holiday from moviemaking – that right, matey?'

'Button up. I got an investment to protect.'

'Aninvestment?'

Isaid: 'He means he's in it for the money, same as you.'

That got me stiff looks from both – but I was still right. It was just cash that had put them on opposite sides. If it had brought them together, they'd have had a perfect understanding.

Whitmore rubbed the slight bristle on his chin with the pistol. 'Well, I guess if it ain't going to finish today, we better pull out.' He sounded honestly reluctant. There must have been bars and brothels he'd hated to leave before closing time, just because he had a picture to make in the morning. But he'd always left. He was a pro – in his own way. 'So, how do we do it? – If the old town's sealed off?'

'You don't,' Ned said. 'You're stuck.' He stood up and held out a hand. 'Like me to take over now – or you want to wait for the shooting?'

Whitmore looked at him. J.B. said quickly: 'There's still the civil airport. Jiminez said there wasn't any fighting up there – and there's a Pan Am flight for Kingston due just after eleven.'