She shook her head. "No. Do I have to-"
"Something could go wrong. I was told you were valuable government property out on loan to us, to be returned in good condition. If there's trouble, I want you to have this."
"What about you?"
"Hell, I can't use a gun on him. I have to take him alive. But he's tough and experienced and he could get away from me and come for you. That's what the gun is for. It sounds like the crack of doom and it kicks like Tennessee white lightning, so hold it with both hands and don't let the uproar scare you. It holds five shots. Point it where you want to shoot and pull the trigger five times and once more for luck. Don't sit around waiting to see what the first shot will do. Just keep shooting till it clicks empty. Okay?"
She licked her lips, took the gun gingerly, and looked it over. "Okay, Paul. Where's the safety?"
I said, "You've been reading too many books, Doc. This is a revolver. If it had a safety I'd have told you. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Don't talk, don't threaten, don't warn, don't hesitate, just shove the thing out ahead of you and open up. If he comes in here after you. That'll mean I wasn't as good in the woods as I thought. You can't take him alone so don't try. But remember, we want him alive if it can possibly be arranged so don't shoot unless he's really coming for you." I started to turn away and stopped. "Just one more thing. We also want me alive if it can be arranged. At least I do. I'll sing out before I get too close. The password is still 'flattop.' Don't get nervous and blow my head off by mistake."
"I… I'll be careful." Her voice was a little shaky.
"Scared?" I asked.
She smiled faintly. "Just a little. Do you think he'll really come?"
"If there is a shadow-Kroch or somebody else-and if he gets curious enough, he'll come," I said. "If. That's one question. How far he'll come is another. We'll give it a full hour. Go into your act if you hear somebody out here."
I looked at her sitting on my spread-out coat, looking lost and out of place in the woods in her smart jersey dress-her wedding dress, as things had turned out- and her nylons and high heels, with the murderous little revolver in her hands. I found myself remembering, for some reason, Harold Mooney, the man she claimed to love, screaming silently into the twisted towel as she went into his arm without anesthetic. I'm not a very nice person, she'd said.
"Well, take it easy, Doc," I said, and slipped away.
He took forty-seven minutes to make up his mind, counting from the moment I left her. Lying in damp pine needles with a downed tree for shelter, I saw him coming, moving silently through the woods at the edge of the highway. It was Kroch, all right. So much for my fancy theories.
Anyway, he thought he was moving silently, but he didn't really like it and wasn't very good at it. Basically, I could see, he was a city man, a street man, a dark-alley man. He liked traffic, he liked cars, he liked shadowy doorways and narrow stairs. He liked abusing little girls in attic studios.
He didn't like trees and brush and pine needles and the soft uneasy murmur of the wind and the nervous chattering of a squirrel somewhere in the distance. The cawing of a lone crow cruising by at treetop height made him freeze and wait until he'd identified the sound by spotting the flying bird. A crow, for God's sake. You'd think anybody'd know a crow.
I lay behind my log and watched him and knew it wasn't going to work. He was acting too wary; he wasn't going to come in far enough to let me deal with him without risking interference from the highway. He'd seen the empty car but he was too smart to go near it. He was Karl Kroch and he'd had traps set for him before. He knew I was somewhere around, waiting.
He'd thrown me a challenge in New Orleans, to be sure; he'd sent me his name and a vainglorious message via Antoinette Vail. It was kid stuff, but it didn't mean he was going to give me any careless breaks in the showdown. He knew this wasn't the right place for him. I'd picked the terrain, therefore I must like it. He didn't. To hell with Olivia Mariassy and the shadowing job, for the time being. To hell with me.
He turned and went back the way he'd come. Well, it had been a lot to hope for. Presently I heard a car start up in the distance and drive away. I was supposed to hear that. I didn't think he'd be going far.
I got up and brushed myself off and went back to the patch of bushes with the pine tree growing out of it. Olivia must have heard me coming because her voice reached me, low but audible: "Darling, please! How do you expect me to get my dress back on if you… Ah, don't, that tickles!" She laughed softly.
"Coming in," I said. "Flattop, like in aircraft carrier."
She was silent. I went in through the brush and found her sitting on my coat as I'd left her, fully dressed of course, holding the gun with both hands. It was aimed right at my chest. I stood quite still until the muzzle dropped.
She laughed again, a little embarrassed. "I thought it might be… You told me to go into my act if I heard somebody."
"Sure."
"Did you… what happened? Did you see anybody?" "Yes, I saw him."
She looked up quickly. "Who?"
"It was Kroch after all," I said. "Maybe we've proved something. But he didn't like the setup. He sensed something wrong and flared off like a duck."
"So it's still left to be done." She drew a long breath and rose and looked down at the gun in her hand. "You'd better carry this, hadn't you?" she said, giving it to me. She watched me start to put it away. "Paul?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to show me how to open it."
I hesitated. She was watching me with an odd kind of intentness. I said, "Sure," and brought the weapon out again. "You just use your thumb on the latch like this and the cylinder swings out… like this."
There was a little silence. She looked down at the weapon, open in my hand. She said quietly, "It isn't loaded, is it?"
"No," I said. "It isn't loaded, Doc." I took the cartridges from my pocket and started feeding them into the empty chambers.
"You weren't really trying to trap him, were you?"
I said, "I wanted to see if he was there. If he'd come in close, I'd have taken him if I could. I didn't really expect him to come in. It was too obvious a trap to catch a pro."
"But you were really testing me." Her voice was quite even. "Weren't you?"
I looked up from the gun. Her eyes met mine steadily. Even with the glasses on, they were pretty nice eyes. She was rather an attractive person, when she didn't have that grim, haggard, arrogant look, I reflected. Or maybe I was just getting used to her.
"You raised some disturbing possibilities with that last mysterious speech you made," I said. "I had to check them. Sooner or later I may have to turn my back on a loaded gun held by you, Doc, and I probably won't have time to worry about you then."
I expected her to be angry, or at least moderately resentful. To my surprise, she laughed, took a step forward and rose on tiptoe to kiss me on the mouth.
"You know, I could get quite fond of you, Corcoran or whatever your name is," she said, smiling. "You haven't an ounce of romance or chivalry in your makeup, and you don't know how refreshing that is to a lady who's been a sucker for moonlight and roses. Come on, let's go home. I'm going to make you carry me over the threshold for the benefit of the neighbors."
She did, too. It was a small, standardized house with a picture window in a development with winding streets laid out with a French curve by an architect who'd read in a magazine that straight streets were passй. Nevertheless, for a development, it didn't look too bad; and the house didn't look too bad, either, although I'm not really a picture-window man at heart. When we got inside, the phone was ringing.
XV
I SET HER DOWN inside the door and kicked it shut behind me. There wasn't anybody in here we needed to put on an act for, and the jangling telephone bell would have killed romance in any case, so I just stepped back and glanced at my watch. It read two o'clock. The little Renault was no sports machine and there had been some delays and detours so we hadn't made nearly th
e time covering the distance between New Orleans and Pensacola that young Braithwaite had managed in his racing Healey.
Olivia smoothed down her dress and went to the phone while I went back out for the suitcases. When I returned, she held the instrument out to me. I put my load down and took it.
"How's the honeymoon coming?" It was the familiar voice of the New Orleans contact I'd never met.
"Well," I said, "there's an old saw about three being a crowd, if you know what I mean.".
"Who's your shadow, the great stone face?"
"That's right."
"Good. That just about clinches it. His being in New Orleans could have been some kind of coincidence, I suppose, but his trailing the lady across four states didn't happen by accident. He's our man, all right." There was a pause. "Is he around right now?"
"Well, he's not standing beside me," I said, "but I'd guess he's not too far away."
"That's nice," the man in New Orleans said. "That's nice because you're going to have to pick him up, it says here."
I didn't like the way he put it. I said carefully, "Sure, I know. As a matter of fact, I gave it half a try this afternoon, but Kroch's very cagey. I'm going to have to wait and set it up more carefully. Besides, the way the guy is acting bothers me. Half the time he's an experienced old pro and the other half he's a reckless, boastful punk. I'd like to find out what's behind his corny melodrama before I take him."
"You can ask him all the questions you want after you take him," said the voice on the phone. "But he followed Mariassy and nobody else did. Or did they?"
"Then he's the man you take, and you take him now. The Taussig matter is becoming urgent. Immediate action is requested, not to say commanded. Got it?"
I drew a long breath. "Sure. I got it."
"You take him. That's the word. I've got more good news for you. That little artist girl, the one with the attic studio and the black eye, came to the Montclair Hotel about half an hour after you left. She was looking for you."
"Antoinette Vail? What did she want?"
"She had a letter for you. When she was told at the desk that you'd checked out, she wanted to have it sent after you, but you'd left no forwarding address and we hadn't anticipated this possibility and tipped off the desk clerk, so he wouldn't take it. So we still don't know what the communication was, but by the looks of things you'll soon have an opportunity to find out."
"I will?" I said. "How?"
"While she was trying to learn how to reach you, who should appear but a certain Dr. Mooney, looking pale and favoring his left arm. Who's responsible? Your report is eagerly awaited. Anyway, he heard her asking questions about you. He had an idea. He approached her. She started to brush him off, but something he said caught her interest and they went up to his room to talk. A little later, very friendly, they drove off together in his car-a light blue Chrysler convertible, if it matters. She was driving, presumably because of his arm. Time of departure, ten-fifteen. Course, due east, Pensacola-wards. Speed, excessive. So you can expect company soon, you lucky boy."
"I see." I frowned. "And you have no idea what it is the girl wants to tell me."
"Not any."
"Damn," I said. "Can you have her picked up?"
"For what reason? On what charge?"
"Hell, have the cops pick them both up on the Mann Act or something. They'll be crossing plenty of state lines between there and here."
"And this will accomplish what?"
"It will get the fool kid off the street before she gets herself clobbered again," I said.
"I don't think Washington is interested in getting fool kids off the street, friend," said the man in New Orleans. "Not enough to risk the publicity involved in pulling in a respectable Pensacola physician for associating with a pretty New Orleans artist. Can't you see the papers? And the girl has kept her mouth shut so far, but who knows what she'll do if we put her face to face with a lot of policemen and reporters asking questions. No, better let her come through. You handle her when she gets there. And find out what her urgent message is. After all, if it's important enough for her to write you a letter, it's important enough for us to know. Maybe she's remembered something about Kroch from last night, something she forgot to tell you."
He was right, of course. I said, "All right. But it's going to be a hell of a honeymoon."
The man in New Orleans laughed. "Your wife will understand. That's more than mine does. Well, you're out of my territory now. I'm switching you over to local control. You'll make contact at the Flamingo Lounge. Your bride can tell you where, or consult the city directory. Use the men's room routine. The urge to wash your hands will strike you at five-thirty sharp. The time is now two-oh-four."
I checked my watch. "Description?"
"You'll know him when you see him," said the voice on the phone. "There's an I-team standing by. Your contact will tell you how to whistle them up when you have the patient ready for the operation. Or you can do the work yourself, but rockface is to be captured, taken apart, and made to talk, soon. That's the word marked final."
There was nothing for me to say except, "Transmission received and acknowledged."
I heard a click and put the phone down, wondering if I'd ever met the man who'd called. Probably not. I looked up to see Olivia watching me, obviously puzzled and disturbed by what she'd heard.
"The Flamingo Lounge," I said.
"It's in the middle of town," she said.
"Driving time?"
"You'd better give yourself at least half an hour. Pensacola is bigger than it looks from the road we arrived on.,'
"Do you know the place?"
"Well… yes, I know it," she said after a brief hesitation. "It's right around the corner from Harold's office. We sometimes used to meet there for lunch or a drink before dinner."
"Can you tell me where the men's room is located?"
She glanced at me sharply to see if I was joking. She said, "Both rest rooms are to the left as you come in, back in the corner. You're going to meet somebody there?" When I nodded, she asked, "Am I going with you?"
"Not to the final rendezvous," I said. "It might cause comment. But as far as the lounge itself, yes. I wouldn't leave my bride home alone on our wedding night, would I? Besides, the last time we separated you wound up facing a man with a gun." I shook my head irritably. ". wish I knew for sure that Kroch is really as cocky am irresponsible and erratic as he acts."
Olivia was watching me steadily. "What's wrong, Paul' What did that man tell you on the phone?"
"Everything's wrong," I said. "Time seems to be running out on us, for one thing. Washington is jittery and screaming for immediate action; I've got orders to pick up Kroch at once, regardless. Well, as soon as I've conferred with some local guy I'm to meet at five-thirty. And just to make things real complicated, Antoinette Vail, the girl who got mussed up last night because I bought her dinner, is heading this way with a mysterious letter in her hot little hand, intended for me. She's driving your friend Mooney's car, and he's right beside her. What he thinks he's doing, God only knows, but I'm sure it's clever as hell. I'm getting damn sick and tired of devious and clever people, Doc. I wish I could meet just one direct, stupid slob on this job-besides me, I mean."
Olivia laughed. "I don't recognize you from the description, Paul." After a moment she went on, "You're worried about the girl, aren't you? I gathered that much from what you said on the phone."
"Well, I dragged her into this," I said. "She's just a kid. She's probably still got some kind of glamorous, juvenile notions about this business. Well, to hell with her. I can't be responsible for every crazy little girl who wants to play Mata Hari or something."
After a moment, Olivia turned away. I followed her into the next room, a living room. It had books along the walls-lots of books, a record player and records, and some furniture that looked comfortable but not particularly new or expensive. The only intriguing piece was a nice little table with a built-in chessboard upon which the men we
re set up, ready for a game. I remembered that I hadn't got very far into Capabalanca.
Olivia wasn't in sight, but she soon came back through a swinging door that apparently led to the kitchen. A nook at that end of the room served as a dining alcove. She had a glass in each hand. I took one and raised it to her.
"To Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran," I said. We drank, and I looked at her for a moment. It was quiet and peaceful in the little house, and she was kind of a pleasant person to have around, and I was tired of thinking about Kroch and Antoinette Vail and my orders. Thinking wasn't getting me anywhere, and I said, "We have a couple of hours to kill, Doc, before we head for the Flamingo. I have a suggestion to make. It's subject to veto; I'm not pushing it; but I have a sudden urge to lock the doors and windows of the bridal cottage and consummate this crazy marriage. What do you say?"
She was silent. I saw that I had shocked her. "You put it crudely, Paul," she murmured at last. "I mean well, we had the excuse of being rather drunk last night, but we're not drunk now."
I said, "It was just a suggestion. We can play chess instead. That was your original idea, remember?"
She smiled faintly, but the smile died at once. "I… I don't think I want to be made love to just to kill time. Besides, it's broad daylight and I've never… I don't know if I really could. No, I'd rather not."
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