She said stiffly, "If you could keep your eyes off my legs-off any woman's legs-my stockings wouldn't bother you. And I've been just a little too busy making diplomatic arrangements to worry about a few wrinkles in my hose. You still haven't answered my question. Did you find out-"
"I don't know yet," I said. "We should have the word shortly, so leave the phone clear for a few minutes."
"She's going to call you here with the news?"
"One way or the other," I said. "However it goes."
"And if she does give you the information you need, what's the next step?"
"I'll go after them, naturally," I said, rummaging in my suitcase. I threw some clean clothes onto the bed, and opened a trick compartment that yielded a small, flat leather case, the contents of which I began checking carefully. "I'll keep them from interfering with your pet dope smuggler, somehow."
"I've made arrangements with the Mexican authorities." Charlie got off the bed and pulled up her nylon tights, almost unembarrassed this time. Pretty soon she'd be adjusting her brassiere in my presence without a blush. I didn't really know whether or not I looked forward to such an intimate relationship with this girl. She smoothed down her skirt, put her feet into her shoes, and picked up her purse to check her reflection in the mirror, giving me a glimpse of a small revolver that reminded me who she was and who I was and why we were here. She said, "Any help you require, Matt-"
"Are you crazy? The last thing I need, from your viewpoint, is some eager Mexican cops. If they start arresting people, what's to keep them from throwing Warfel in jail along with everybody else? You don't want him in a Mexican jail, I gather; you want him in a U.S. jail."
"Yes, but what makes you think he'll be available for arrest?"
"Well, Sapio and Tillery and Co. must be planning to intercept him somewhere, before he makes the heroin pickup at Bernardo."
"They could be planning to move in on him on the high seas afterwards, while he's sailing north with the dope."
"That's not likely," I said. "They've tipped you off, through me, remember. They can assume that beyond Bernardo our boy is going to be under your surveillance all the way. Isn't he?"
"Well, we've got a plane watch arranged-"
"And Tillery's smart enough to anticipate it. No, he's got some reason to think he can catch Warfel and his boat somewhere else, earlier in the evening. It's the only answer that fits."
"But he wants the laboratory taken care of, you said. And he knows we won't move in on it until we know that Warfel's taken the stuff aboard his boat."
"Won't you? With the Mexican authorities breathing down your neck? They'll play along with you as long as your plan seems to be working, sure, but if you wait until daylight, say, without anything happening-no boat, no pickup-they'll take over the jurisdiction that's rightfully theirs, and clean out this source of infection on Mexican soil, and to hell with Frank Warfel and to hell with you, seсorita. You do have the lab spotted by now, I suppose."
"Yes. It's a big, shabby-looking old house-trailer in a bunch of other ones on the shore, right out in the open behind a tiny village of adobe huts. One store, one gas pump. I must have looked right at that trailer half a dozen times, driving down the highway to Ensenada. They've got a boat and fishing rods and stuff for camouflage, but the foundations gave it away, among other things. Usually they just prop those trailers up on a few cinder blocks, but this is really solid. Of course it's got to be. You don't want to spill any of the reagents employed in the process because your whole laboratory jiggles every time somebody moves. Several would-be heroin refiners have blown themselves sky-high when they got just a little careless." Charlie sighed. "I suppose you're right. We really have no authority here; the local people are just being nice. If Warfel doesn't come, the lab goes out anyway, and with it goes our only chance to discredit-"
"Sure," I said. "So all I've got to do is sneak up on the Tillery contingent while it's sneaking up on the Warfel contingent, and put the former out of action without alerting the latter, letting Warfel proceed about his evening's business undisturbed."
"You make it sound very simple."
"Do I? I don't mean to," I said. "But it can be done, if I can find out where the intercept will take place. And if I'm not harassed by several squads of Mexican constabulary clanking badges and guns at my back. Just tell them to look the other way no matter what happens. That's all the help I'll need. I hope."
"What about communications? How will I know if you've been successful?"
"You'll see Warfel or one of his boys come for the dope at Bernardo, that's how. What's the matter?"
"Why," she said, looking over my shoulder at the small, fitted case I was about to close, "why, that's a hypodermic!"
She sounded as shocked as if she'd spotted a truly obscene object in my hands. I suppose, as a dope-cop, she associated a needle with only one purpose, although she must have had a few legitimate injections in her life.
I said, "They are used for other purposes than shooting happiness into the circulatory system, you know."
"And those little bottles?"
I sighed. "Inquisitive, aren't you? It's really none of your damn business, Charlie, but if you must know, the one marked A kills instantly but is fairly easy to detect. The one marked B is a little slower, but only a biochemical genius who knows what he's looking for and works fast can find it in the body after death. We've been waiting for years for them to develop a single agent to take the place of those two, but there have been bugs in every one they've come up with, so it's been back to the drawing board for the scientific lads… – The one marked C puts the guy to sleep for four hours, more or less, depending upon the dosage. Any more questions?"
"I'm sorry I asked." She was staring at me in a funny, wide-eyed way. She licked her lips. "You really are a pretty horrible person, aren't you?"
I grinned. "That's what I like about you, Charlie, that and the way you've got no sense of humor and admit it, and the way you look so damn tailored and competent, but your nylons are always falling down… No, no, they're okay now. Nice and smooth. I was just speaking in general terms."
She licked her lips once more. "I can see that you're trying to be objectionable, but just what are you trying to say?" -
"Why, that you're such a rewarding person to do things for, sweetheart. Here I'm setting out to tackle at least three violent, armed Mafia characters single-handed, just for you, and you stand there and insult me! Hell, a truly sensitive guy might get discouraged and say to hell with the whole lousy-"
The telephone rang. We looked at each other, silenced by the sudden, jangling noise; then I stepped over and picked it up as it rang again.
"Yes?"
"Matt?" It was Bobbie's voice. "How about buying me a dinner. I've earned it, darling."
"Swell," I said. "The top of the menu to you, with champagne. Just give me a couple of minutes to change my shirt."
"To hell with champagne," she said. "I need something stronger than champagne, and the Mexican bubble-stuff is terrible anyway. I need it right now. I'll meet you in the bar."
"That tough?" I said.
"It wasn't fun. But I don't think he suspected anything, and I think I got the location you wanted. You'd better try to scare up a good map, but don't be long. I… I'm kind of scared to be alone."
The line went dead. I put the phone down and looked at Charlie, who was watching me expectantly.
"Well, she got it, she says," I reported.
"Do you think you can really trust that bitch-"
"Devlin, shut up," I said. "Get me a detailed map of this coast, preferably topographic, while I take a quick shower. And if you can scrounge up a jeep or pickup truck or dune buggy or something, I'd appreciate it. We may hit some roads a little too rough for that rental Supermarket Special I'm driving."