That made three, all stationed well down from the rim. I could no longer kid myself that this was simple gangster stupidity. On the contrary, somebody was obviously being very clever, and it was high time, I told myself, that I got the hell out of there. It was bug-out time at Bahia San Agustin.
After all, I told myself, the job for which I'd come here was done, more or less. I'd pretty much kept my promise to Charlie Devlin: Warfel was fairly safe. The syndicate's expert rifleman was out of action and I had his dressed-up rifle. That left the rub-out squad with a tommy gun as its principal weapon-great for cleaning up streets and alleys, for putting the fear of God into hostile characters at close range, but hardly the preferred choice for selective long-range homicide. Without Jake and his specialized weapon, Tillery's project had turned from a near certainty to a risky gamble, even if Warfel came ashore, which he showed no signs of doing.
If I took off in high gear now, or as soon as the man with the carbine decided to move away, I could probably get clear undetected. If not, well, I had the Buck Rogers gun and my knife and revolver to fight with, and all of Baja California to hide in. That's what I told myself, but I didn't move.
The trouble was, there were too many things I wanted to know that I couldn't learn by running. I didn't know what was being brought ashore or why; I still didn't even know for sure who was bringing it ashore. And while I was leading Warfel's boys a merry chase through the mesquite and cactus, the big truck and its mysterious load would be disappearing into the wilds of Baja along with Mr. Soo, if it was Mr. Soo.
Strictly speaking, it was none of my business, but I couldn't help wanting to know what this was all about- and even if I made it out of here safely and reached a phone, there was no guarantee that we'd be able to locate the vehicle again, and if we did find it, it would probably be empty. The big metal tank or cylinder that was being landed with such care and secrecy-obviously somebody considered it very important-would be missing, and so would Mr. Soo, if it was Mr. Soo. And eventually, I had a hunch that was a little more than just a hunch, they would both turn up north of the border for some purpose, undoubtedly nefarious, that I still couldn't even guess at.
The man below me was retreating cautiously the way he had come, with his shotgun in his hands. He kept turning, and swinging the muzzle around in a jittery fashion, as if his ears were playing him scary tricks. I gave him plenty of time; then I started moving along the hillside, slowly and silently, towards a point that, I figured, would put me directly below Tillery and Sapio. I mean, we don't get paid to be stupid heroes, but we do get paid; and occasionally we've got to do something to earn our bread, like sticking our necks out just a little.
Down in the bay, beyond the ridge, the outboard dinghy was still wrestling noisily with its unwieldy tow, but the hillside was very quiet except for the murmur of the sea breeze in the low brush and the scattered, lonely, small trees. I froze as something dark moved by one of those trees ahead: another man, shifting position uncomfortably, as if tired of waiting.
Something gleamed in the hand that was raised to push irritably at the wide-brimmed hat… I realized that the figure was not really dark, nor was it a man. It was my ubiquitous female companion in her light jeans and shirt. Well, I hadn't really expected her to stay where she was told.
"Quiet!" I whispered, coming up behind her. "Don't move. Lay that pistol down, sweetheart."
"Mart! Oh, you scared
"The pistol, doll-baby," I breathed. "No, don't drop it, stupid. It's only in the movies you toss firearms around like beanbags. In real life they have a nasty habit of going off… That's right. On the ground with the safety on. Now straighten up and step away from it."
"Matt, what in the world.."
"You don't follow orders very good," I said harshly. "I told you to stay in the car."
"I got scared. I saw some men moving this way, and I was afraid you'd be trapped up here…
I picked up the automatic she'd deposited on the ground, and glanced at it. "A Walther, eh? Not a bad little gun. Where'd you get it?"
"It was in the glove compartment of the car. I stuck it in my pocket when I was looking for that tire gauge you wanted." She hesitated. "May I have it back, please?"
"No," I said. "If there's anything that scares me worse than plague, smallpox, rabies, and Montezuma's Revenge, it's an amateur with a gun. Particularly an amateur who won't obey orders."
"I told you," she said angrily, "I came to find you and warn you…"
"How many men did you see?"
"Just two, but…"
"We'll worry about them later," I said. "I've taken care of Jake, but his two Cosa Nostra friends are somewhere up above us if they haven't moved. They've got a Thompson with a hundred-round drum if my firearms identification is correct. If I can get hold of that, a couple of goons more or less won't matter a bit. There's also a pair of night glasses I'd like to have the use of for about thirty seconds… I don't suppose there's the slightest chance of your following instructions a third time, after ignoring them twice."
"Damn you, I was trying to help…"
"Shh, keep your voice down. Do you think you can make a tremendous, gigantic, supreme effort and stay right here, just for a few minutes? Please? Ten minutes by the watch? Have you got a watch?"
"Yes."
"Well, look at it. If you don't know what the time is now, how are you going to tell when it's ten minutes from now?"
"Darling," she said stiffly, "darling, you're being very objectionable…
"Here's the drug kit," I said, ignoring her protest. "In ten minutes, I hope, you can come up and do your stuff just like before."
The final stalk was no great problem. Big town characters, accustomed to tuning out the roar of traffic and the bleat of canned music, have generally forgotten how to listen, and the two men on the crest were no exception. I got within twenty-five yards of them without eliciting the smallest sign of uneasiness. Then I aimed the Flash Gordon contraption at Sapio, since he was the man with the chopper, and switched on the beam.
XXIII
The fierce little ray of concentrated light caught Sapio's attention, all right, even from behind. I saw him start to turn his head and stop, and reach for the submachine gun instead. I stopped that by pressing the safety of the Remington forward more sharply than necessary, making a tiny but unmistakable click.
The hooded, sharply focused light had not disturbed Tillery, off to one side, but the sound brought his head around quickly.
"Jake, what the hell…
"Jake's taking a nap," I said. "So are your other two boys, Tillery."
"Helm? What are you doing here? What do you want?"
"I want your hand to stop moving, amigo. I think Mr. Sapio does, too. I don't think he really yearns for a thirty-caliber slug through his liver."
"Cut it out, Tillery."
"Yes, Mr. Sapio."
There was a faint clatter of dislodged pebbles nearby. I stepped back into the gloom of a low evergreen, keeping the beam steady, but it was only the girl in her light clothes and big dark hat, rather breathless.
"Matt?"
"Right here," I said. "No, don't look at this light, it's pretty bright. Don't get between us. Walk around, real careful, and take care of them… Oh, just a minute. Sapio, you seem to be the man with the final authority here. What's your full name?"