The big Chris-Craft shattered the peaceful moment I'd had, the twin engines driving the goats off into the hills and sending the petrels screaming off into the air. I didn't have to look up to know who was calling me from the deck.
"How was Washington? Happy?" I asked him.
"Washington was fine. I had a hell of a job finding you, Crane. The Coast Guard's been looking for two days." I remembered the white helicopter that flew over earlier in the morning, circled and took another look at me before heading north toward L.A. "Get over here, I've got some people who want to see you."
I started to tell him to go to hell, but I couldn't really get mad at Shearing. He'd always made it plain that winning the war took first place over everything else. I didn't like him, but he wasn't easy to hate either.
The dinghy was tied alongside, and it didn't take long to cross over and climb aboard the Chris-Craft. Peters was out on the bow letting go the anchor, and Shearing was in the cockpit with a tall glass which he handed me. "Drink this, you'll need it."
I sniffed at it, started to set it down, but that was ridiculous. If they wanted to slip me something, they'd do it with a needle anyway. I took a long swig and almost gagged. "Straight gin? Good God, what for?"
"Come below."
Janie and Steen Hoorne were sitting at the big dinette table. I looked from one to the other, looked again, and took another slug of the gin. Steen was grinning like an idiot. "Sorry, skipper, but I'm officially dead. Can't even be seen on deck until the surgeons get through with my face. Come on, man, it's me."
"Yeah." I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't look at Janie.
"They tell me you were upset, skipper. Look, there wasn't anything they could do. There were prisoners, Bureau men, those local cops all around, nobody could explain it to you."
"I tried," Janie said. "Oh, Paul, I tried, but you wouldn't listen, darling. You went storming up that mountain without a word, and there wasn't a thing I could do."
"Yeah." I seemed to be repeating myself. "How'd it work?" I asked him. "You were covered with blood, I saw it."
"My cough medicine. There was a little capsule in it, when I crushed it in the bottle it turned it all red. Looks just like blood. When the shooting started, I insisted they take me with them to Mexico or wherever they were going, so they'd think I was as worried about being caught as they were. Had to make them believe I was genuine to the last. I said I'd rather work for them than be in jail. Then Sam put a bullet close to me, I poured the goop across my chest, and died. It was up to you people to keep them from getting close to the body."
Shearing took the helmsman's seat. "Didn't you think there was something odd about a man as experienced as Sam de la Torres getting caught so easily? He saw Hudson going over to examine Hoorne, so he showed himself and damn near got killed."
I took a deep breath. "How—how is he? Janie said . . ."
"He'll be all right," Janie answered. "They've got the bone reassembled with silver pins. He says you owe San Capistrano some candles, and you can light one for him if you feel like it."
"I will. By God, I will."
"We lost another man down by the road," Shearing added. "But it worked. The chase planes played games with them all the way to the Mexican border. Ching's convinced he got the real goods from Hoorne and escaped by a hair."
"What was it?" I asked. "Something to sabotage their anti-missile effort?"
There was a long silence. Shearing took out another Camel, examined it carefully, finally nodded. "You've earned the right to know. No, it was perfectly genuine information. Look, we haven't kept you in the dark for the fun of it. During most of the assignment you were in an exposed position. Somebody could have got hold of you and made you talk, and the less you knew, the better for everybody including you. Then when things broke they happened pretty fast, there wasn't time."
"But—" I took a slug of the gin and started over. "But why did you want them to have the genuine information? And if it was genuine, why go to all this trouble to make them think they stole it?"
"Have you read the newspaper accounts?"
"No. I saw some of the headlines, but I didn't feel like reading them."
"Well, the reporters have the official version. No matter how hard anyone checks, no matter who does the checking, they'll get the same story unless one of us talks. The FBI has brilliantly foiled an attempt to smuggle Dr. Steen Hoorne and Dr. Li Run out of the country. Unfortunately, both turncoats were killed in the attempt to prevent their escape. Some minor Chinese agents got away to Mexico in a light plane, but no one is worrying about them." He took a deep drag on his Camel. "So, they think they got the information from Hoorne and we don't know it. We don't mind if they have a good antimissile system. Maybe they'll use it against the Russians. But it does help our strategic flyboys to know just what kind of antimissile system the Chinese are investing their money in. They got real information, and when they check it out, it will work. I'm not enough of a physicist to know just what loopholes there are in the system Hoorne sold them, but I gather there are some if you know precisely where to look."
"I see." I really did see, at least enough to know it made sense. I'd put away enough of the gin to be able to face them now. "I'm sorry, Janie. I must have been—well, I'm sorry."
"It's all right." She smiled at me, fingering her horn rims, then took them off.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"That's one of our problems," Shearing said. "The Bureau is still convinced you had something to do with Hoorne, although you're in no trouble, they can't prove anything. The people in the Bureau who know you've worked with us in the past can't say anything, though, and the others will have it in for you. I wouldn't try to get a security clearance, and they may go to some of your customers. When they think they've caught a traitor and can't make it stick, some of the boys get over-enthusiastic. There's no way to turn them off without destroying everything we've gained."
I thought about that one for a while, and he went on. "We'll see you don't starve. By the way, Vallery turned up in Bakersfield, and we're honoring the agreement you made with Beverly. He and the Henderson girl will be released after they've told my people everything they know about Information Associates' customers. I already told you about Prufro. And, let's see, Steen gets a new face, his fingerprints won't need changing because we changed the cards on file for him before this ever started. With a new identity, he . . . well, we've got something for him to do. Janie was too close to this, she'll lose her job at the bank and we'll have to put her on a new assignment. I can't really tell you what my people are doing, Paul, as long as you want no part of us."
"Yeah. Well, I suppose one of your corporations will keep me out of the poorhouse."
"Sure. We could also find something else for you to do, if you're interested."
Peters was messing around on the deck above us, making a clatter. The only other sound was the gentle surf on the rocky beach. After a minute of that, Shearing nodded. "You think about it. Janie, did you have something to say?"
"I've got a couple of weeks leave coming . . . Paul, I brought my things. You said you wanted to show me the islands, will you?"
I took her hand for a second. "Sure. Get your stuff." She went below to the forecabin, and I shook hands with Steen. "I hope I recognize you next time I see you, Iron Man. "I'd like to have you along for this cruise, but I don't suppose Mr. Shearing wants to take any chances."
Steen grinned. "No. And I don't think you want another crewman along anyway, skipper. We'll sail again one of these days." Janie came up with a sea bag. She stowed her glasses in her purse and looked at me expectantly. Steen's grin was broader, and he clapped me on the shoulder. "Right now, you've got all the crew you need, skipper."
He was right, of course. I looked at the chart inlaid on the dinette table. Mission San Capistrano wasn't far down the coast, and there was a good harbor near it. "Yeah. I think I'll go down and light those candles in San Juan's home territory."
/> THE END
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Red Dragon
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Red Dragon Page 19
