I sighed. "That's going to make my girlfriend very mad; she took this pinch very seriously." I hesitated, and went on: "So it was strictly a one-time operation? Frankie wasn't really setting up to make a career of smuggling drugs like the syndicate boys feared; he just wanted to get this one big batch into the country without tipping anybody off that he'd had unpatriotic dealings with the Chinese communists?"
"That's right. With so much heroin involved, he could afford to make elaborate preparations for a one-shot deal. And from the Chinaman's point of view, well, American dollars are hard to come by on the other side of the Pacific, but poppies grow very well over there. His government probably confiscated the stuff in the first place, so it didn't cost them anything. He could afford to offer a fancy price in drugs for Warfel's assistance, much higher than he could have bid in real money."
I asked, "Where's the heroin now, if Warfel hasn't got it on his boat? Could it be somewhere in this truck, perhaps?"
Bobbie laughed scornfully. "You've met Frank Warfel, darling. Can you imagine him trusting us with two million dollars belonging to him? Can you imagine him trusting anybody? No, he's taking care of it all by himself. But he knows that if his men don't get us safely across the border, the U.S. authorities will get an anonymous phone call that'll make it impossible for him ever to cash in on that shipment he hopes will make him rich; he'll be watched too closely."
"Sure," I said. "Well, according to you, we're safely across the border now, so Frankie's fortune is made." I glanced at her slyly, and went on: "Figuring our elapsed time, and guessing at our probable speed and direction, I estimate we should be somewhere near your dear old home town of Yuma, Arizona. Maybe you should stop and visit some of your friends and relations."
Bobbie grinned. "I told you I was born in China, darling. I don't know anybody in Yuma. I've seen pictures of the town and memorized a lot of maps and information, but I've never been there in my life."
I said, deliberately, "Well, that figures. A real Yuma girl, brought up that close to the border, would know that it was mescal, not pulque like you said, that's got the maguey worm in the bottom of the bottle." Bobbie looked at me sharply. I went on: "And a real Yuma girl, brought up in that dry, dry country, would know a little about desert driving. I mean, doll, when you try to blast your way through deep sand like you thought you could lick it with sheer horsepower, even a dumb guy like me starts to wonder where the hell you spent your formative years, since it certainly wasn't Arizona. And you were so insistent on getting that Chrysler unstuck; you didn't want it there, blocking the road for Willy and Mr. Soo. And, finally, no reasonably bright girl, dressing for dangerous adventures in the dark, would pick white pants and a light-yellow shirt-not unless she was making sure her hidden friends didn't open up on her by mistake."
Again there was silence except for the rattling of the truck and the rumbling of the metal cylinder above us. Bobbie was staring at me with something close to horror.
"You knew?" she whispered. "You knew? And still you let me… You let yourself be…" She stopped.
I said, "I took out a little insurance. There wasn't any cartridge in the chamber of that trick rifle of Jake's your man was holding on me, and I had the chopper right under my hand. If things had looked bad, I could have sprayed both you and the guy behind me before he realized he was trying to shoot back with an empty gun. And then, with Mr. Thompson's hundred-round squirter to help me, I'd have had a pretty good chance of shooting my way clear in the dark."
"But you didn't." She licked her lips. "Why, Matt?"
"Because there were things 1 wanted to know-if there seemed to be a reasonable chance of learning them without getting killed. And because you came to my defense like a little heroine when Willy started kicking me around."
She said, shocked: "Matt, you're crazy if you think I'm going to help you further just because I-"
"I figured there were some other things working for me," I said when she paused. "I figured Mr. Soo might feel a slight sense of gratitude; and in any case I knew he wouldn't have me killed at once because he's got some reason to think I know something dangerous to him. He'll want to find out if I really do, and if so, if I've told anybody else about it. That'll keep me alive for a little. But mostly," I said, "I'm counting on you."
"No!" she gasped. "No, you're crazy! You've got no right to expect-" I shrugged. "Okay, I've got no right. So don't help. Just watch Willy kill me, slowly, when the Chinaman is through with me. Willy will make it worth watching, I'm sure. He'll milk it for all the entertainment value possible."
She licked her lips. "What makes you think I care what happens to you, damn you?"
"You cared what happened to Sorenson. Aren't I a sweet little man, too?" I put the playful note out of my voice and demanded harshly: "How many people have to die before you've had enough, sweetheart?"
"Damn you!" she breathed. "Just because I kept him from kicking you to death… I had my orders. The Chinaman wanted you alive. That's absolutely the only reason I interfered!"
"Sure," I said. "Sure."
"You… you egotistical jerk! If you think you can blackmail me just because I went to bed with you in the line of business… These people have been good to me! They took me out of… out of conditions you can't even imagine. They educated and trained me-"
"Sure," I said. "The Chinese are in a bad spot when it comes to agents. There are lots of Russian girls and boys, for instance, who with a little training can be planted over here to blend with the U.S. background until needed, but a Chinese boy or girl is always a bit conspicuous in our society. Sure, they could make good use of a pretty blond kid of European or American parents, who'd got lost or left behind during one of China's numerous upheavals.
Her expression told me I'd come close enough to guessing her story. She said quickly, "Their reasons don't matter! The fact is, they saved my life and… and my sanity!"
"By running you through the brainwash machinery, and then training you to serve them as an agent in place? Well, I guess that's one kind of salvation. But I don't hear you holding forth about the great god Marx and our decadent capitalist society. Apparently the indoctrination didn't take-or has it worn off during the pleasant years you've spent over here playing American and waiting for orders?"
"I wasn't playing American, I am American!" When I didn't say anything, she went on less fiercely: "Well, my parents were. I think. Anyway, what makes you think my years over here have been so damn pleasant?"
I said, "I've been studying you pretty closely, doll, and I think what you most want to be in this world is a typical U.S. miss with love beads and long stringy hair throwing rocks at the pigs. You tried out a lot of roles on me, but that was the one that really carried conviction. Well, I don't know about the rocks and the pigs, but the rest can probably be arranged, if your services warrant my going to the trouble. At least I can probably clean the slate for you somehow, if I'm alive to do it. Think about it."
She said bitterly, "Now it's a bribe!"
"Call it a deal. It sounds better."
She had the hypodermic in her hand once more. "You'd better lie down, Matt. Otherwise you'll fall over when this takes effect, and I won't raise a finger to stop you!"
xxv
The next time I woke up, I was outdoors. Even before opening my eyes, I knew I was lying on the ground in broad daylight, breathing warm fresh air that was untainted with truck exhaust fumes but carried instead, strangely, a smell of fresh paint or lacquer. Somebody was hammering on metal not far away.