The Silencers mh-5

by Donald Hamilton

  "Easy," I said. "Easy, Gail."

  "Oh!" She looked down at the gun she was holding wrong-end-to and threw it on the bed. She controlled her breathing with a great effort and spoke flatly. "I thought he'd killed you. Are you all right?"

  "Well, I'm not dead," I said. "Thanks."

  She swayed and put out a hand to steady herself. I caught her and held her. I would like to be able to report that my only emotions at that moment were love and gratitude-and remorse for having misjudged her- but the picture wasn't that clear in my mind. My ribs ached and my back hurt and oxygen deliveries to my lungs were far behind schedule. It was hard to concentrate on the woman in my arms, but I was aware that she was trembling.

  "My dear man," she breathed, "my dear, dear man! Did you know you had the power to transform a female clothes-horse into a raging tigress? I've never in my life done anything like that before." Then she stiffened against me, looking past me. "Matt!" she breathed. "Mail, look!"

  I released her and turned. The big man had slumped over on his side. A shaft of light from the open door struck him squarely as he lay there, and I saw his face clearly for the first time. Blood from his lacerated scalp had run across it, but I could see it was the face of Dan Bronkovic, the ex-cop Mr. Paul Peyton, security officer, had introduced as his assistant.

  I drew a long breath, feeling a little dizzy. I walked over to the other man who was lying by the foot of the bed and bent down. His face was in worse shape than Bronkovic's, but it was undoubtedly the face of Peyton himself. I don't suppose it was nice to laugh. Maybe I was just a bit hysterical.

  XIX

  Gail came in from the bathroom, drying her hands with a face towel. She stopped just inside the room, startled.

  "Matt! What are you doing?"

  I finished giving the injection to Bronkovic, who was showing signs of reviving, and went over to squirt a dose into Peyton, who might have remained passive without it-he wasn't in very good condition-but there wasn't any sense in taking chances. I got up and cleaned off the hypo with the stuff provided in the little kit we're all issued, packed everything neatly back the way it was supposed to be and tucked the kit behind the lining of my suitcase. I turned to face Gail, who was standing there looking at me shocked and accusingly.

  "Look, glamor girl," I said, "this isn't TV. In real life you don't go to all the trouble of knocking people out just to have them wake up and raise hell at the critical moment. Now I can be sure they'll both sleep till morning."

  "But-" She licked her lips. "But they're hurt! They need a doctor! They should be in the hospital!"

  That's the trouble with amateurs; they're inconsistent. A few minutes ago she'd been trying to beat the guy's brains out, and now she was worrying about his health.

  "Look-" I said as the telephone rang.

  Gail glanced at me quickly. I went over to pick up the instrument as it jangled again.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "This is the manager," a deep female voice said. "Is everything all right in there?"

  "Certainly," I said. "Why shouldn't everything be all right?"

  "We've had a complaint, sir, from one of the neighboring rooms about a disturbance-"

  I hesitated, wondering whether to pretend that we'd been having a drunken argument, or just looking for a lost collar button. But there's no percentage in putting on an act when you don't have to. It was time to call in the brass and let them fight it out, anyway.

  I asked curtly, "What's your name?"

  "What… Why, I'm Mrs. Meadows. I own this place; that is, my husband and I own it."

  "Where's your husband?"

  Her voice said bitterly, "Where is he always? If you find out, let me know. Or don't bother. I'm not that interested any longer."

  "I see," I said. "Well, Mrs. Meadows, as a matter of fact everything is not all right, and I'd like you to get me Washington, D.C. The number is…"I gave her the number, or one of them. She hesitated. "I… There's not going to be any trouble, is there? I mean-"

  "I'm trying to avoid trouble and publicity, Mrs. Meadows.',

  "But how do I know… I mean, who are you?" In my next incarnation, I decided, I'd pick a world that wasn't populated by smart and suspicious women. I said, "You can listen in through your switchboard, can't you?"

  "I assure you, sir," she said stiffly, "I never listen to private calls."

  "Well, listen to this one," I said. "It's all right, as long as you don't gossip about what you hear. After I've finished talking to my chief in Washington, you can ask him any questions you like. Now put my call through please."

  I identified myself to the girl in the Washington office in a way that let her know there was not only a witness in the room from which I was speaking, there was also an ear on the wire. She'd pass the word to Mac. A minute later I heard his voice.

  "Yes?"

  "This is Matt, sir," I said. The fact that I didn't use my code name was a further warning.

  "Yes, Matt?" he said. The repetition of the name meant he was reading my signals loud and clear.

  "Calling from Carrizozo, New Mexico," I said. "Room 14, Turquoise Motel, Mrs. Meadows, manager. Mrs. Meadows is listening and would like identification and reassurance when we've finished talking."

  "Very well."

  "First, you were to submit some information concerning a certain scientific gentleman, a specialist in vibrations. How was it received?"

  "Not well," he said dryly. "I was informed that the matter was well in hand, and that we should mind our own business. As for the gentleman in question, he's supposed to be a good man who's been working a little too hard. That is the word for publication."

  So that was the dope on Naldi. Publicly he was supposed to be showing symptoms of overwork; privately he was being watched, and it was none of our damn business.

  "That brings us," I said. "to the description of two people and a vehicle that had received unexpected circulation locally. You were going to investigate, remember?"

  "I remember. The investigation was fruitless." His voice was grim. "It is the same department that refused us access to its records recently. We will receive no cooperation from that quarter."

  "Don't be too sure, sir," I said. "Give them a ring and tell them I've got two of their boys here and would like them hauled away. I think they'll cooperate to that extent."

  There was a little pause. Mac spoke softly, far away. "Was that necessary?"

  "Not at all, sir," I said. "I could easily have stood still and let them shoot me full of bullet holes. They had the; equipment and, as far as I could make out, the desire. There wasn't much time to investigate motives, and the room was dark."

  "Give me an idea of the approximate extent of the damage."

  "One lacerated scalp and probable concussion," I said. "Fracture unlikely but possible. One set of badly damaged ribs with probable internal injuries. Some plastic surgery may be required on this one. Both have received Injection C and are sleeping peacefully."

  "There was no warning?"

  "No preliminary conversation whatever. When I opened the door, it was as if I'd dynamited Boulder Dam. They poured all over me."

  "You have no idea what they wanted?"

  "No, sir. Maybe you can find out from the other end."

  "Maybe. You can be certain I will try. Are you all right?"

  "It's kind of you to ask, sir," I said. "It was close, but I had help. I'm fine."

  "How much time do you want?"

  "Half an hour ought to do it. Better not make it much longer. We'd hate to lose either of them, wouldn't we? And see if you can straighten things out so I don't fall over any more of them, sir. It confuses the issue badly."

  "I'll endeavor to do that," he said grimly, and I thought there might be some activity in Washington in the near future. "Now let me speak to Mrs. Meadows," he said. "Mrs. Meadows, now that you have heard this conversation, I advise you to forget it. Somebody will call on you shortly with credentials I think you will find adequate…"
r />   I laid the phone down and looked at Gail. "Well, now you know how it's done," I said. "If you're wondering why we let the lady listen in, that's psychology. If we'd kept her off the line-if we could have-she'd have been curious and suspicious. Since she was allowed to listen to important government secrets, she may be proud and scared enough to keep her mouth shut… What's the matter?"

  She was watching me in a preoccupied way, frowning a little. "Injection C," she said. "Does that mean there are Injections A and B, too?"

  "Don't be nosy," I said. "But since you ask, A is permanent and very quick, but leaves traces. B is slower but can't be detected in the body after a short time- it can pass for heart failure if you set it up right. One that's both instantaneous and undetectable is in the works. Does that answer your question?"

  She shivered slightly. "I'm sorry I asked. You're not a very nice person, are you, Matt?"

  "I'm terrible," I said, "but you've known that since El Paso, so let's just pass up the subject of me and how awful I am. Right now I'd like to know how you made out. We haven't got much time; we want to be out of here before the rescue squad arrives."

  She was looking at me blankly. "How I made out?"

  "You went on a mission, remember? A secret, mysterious mission. Something you didn't want to tell me about; you wanted to do it by yourself. You wanted to help."

  There was a little silence, and something in the room seemed to change. Something went out of it suddenly, something that had been warm and friendly and kind of nice. She went phony on me is the best way I can describe it.

  "Heavens, I'd completely forgotten!" she gasped. "Coming in and seeing you fighting like that just drove it plumb out of my mind… Matt, darling, I've got it!"

  "Got what?"

  "Don't be silly, what we've been looking for, of course! Darling, I've found it! I started thinking about what you'd said. You know, you asked me if I was quite sure Janie had really said Wigwam, and I said I was, almost. And then you asked if I was quite sure she'd said Carrizozo. Well, the more I thought about it… Anyway, I went out to look at the map in the truck, and I made a couple of phone calls. Matt, do you know a town called Ruidoso?"

  "Sure," I said. "It's about thirty-five miles from here, up in the mountains on the other side of Sierra Blanca, the big peak we passed on the way up. Horse races are run there in the summer. Ruidoso Downs. The village of Ruidoso itself is just up the canyon from the track." I frowned. "What about Ruidoso?"

  "Darling, you're being downright stupid! Don't you see? Carrizozo-Ruidoso. That's where I made my mistake. They sound alike, and I'd never heard of Ruidoso and I'd heard of this place, so… Don't you understand?"

  I said, watching her, "I thought all Texans knew about Ruidoso Downs. Certainly enough of them go there for the races."

  Her eyes narrowed. "I declare, you're acting very strangely. I thought you'd be proud of me! Don't you understand, I've got it, I've got your lousy wigwam! The Wigwam Lodge in Ruidoso!"

  XX

  There wasn't much conversation during the first part of the journey. I didn't know what her thoughts were, and I didn't want to look at her to find out.

  As for my own thoughts, they were confused. She'd saved my life, was the thing I kept remembering, and still, instinct warned me she was being much less than honest with me now. It disturbed me to be heading towards Ruidoso, far back up in the high mountains on the wrong side of the valley, as far as the atom test was concerned. But then, Mac had said that atomic explosions were really none of my business. Gunther was. He could as easily be in Ruidoso as elsewhere. Or the woman beside me could be leading me around by the nose for laughs, but she was still the only lead we had. I had no choice but to stick with her.

  Presently she glanced at me. "I thought you said it was only thirty-five miles."

  I said, "That's the direct road across the mountains. Most of it's unpaved, and it's probably all knee deep in snow. I thought we'd better stay on the pavement. It's longer but surer."

  "Of course." After a while, she said, "Matt."

  "Yes?"

  "You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

  "Sam Gunther?" I said. "The Cowboy? Yes, if I can find him. That's my job." Her silence had an accusing quality, and I said quickly, "I told you from the start that if we were successful in our mission, Sam wasn't likely to survive it very long."

  "Yes, but I didn't know…" She shivered. "I didn't dream… Not until I saw the way you acted with those men, with that hypodermic."

  There was a little silence. I shifted gears as the road steepened and we climbed upwards through the pines.

  "It's all… rather shocking," she said. "I didn't know things like this went on, darling. I didn't know people like you existed." She hesitated. "I suppose I should be horrified. Maybe I am. Don't expect too much of me. Just tell me what you want me to do…

  It was a nice touch, a nice offer. I would have liked to think it was sincere. I told her something, hoping it sounded sensible and plausible.

  Soon we were over the top of the pass, rolling down the other side towards Ruidoso. Something had been done to the highway since I'd last seen it, but no one had figured out a way to keep the snow from falling on it- or if someone had it didn't work. It took me a while to find my way through the maze of dirty white mounds and ridges thrown up by shovels and plows at the fancy intersection. Finally I reached the town itself, which is up a side canyon.

  Here also changes had been made, for better or worse, depending on whether or not you like your mountain villages modernized. We drove up the main street. There was a good deal of snow and not much light.

  Gail licked her ~ "I don't think I'll ever drive down a strange street again without looking for a sign saying- There it is." Her voice didn't change as she said it.

  The buildings themselves were a little off the main street, down in a hollow of pines, but the sign was right at the sidewalk: WIGWAM LODGE. I turned into the driveway and parked the truck with half a dozen other vehicles, most of which had ski racks-some complete with skis-on the roof. Well, it was good weather for it. I got out and walked around to let Gail out, although the chivalrous gesture seemed wasted on the leggy, boyish figure that emerged.

  I steadied her as she slipped on the hard-packed snow. There was no wind at this hour of the morning, and it was very silent under the pines. We might have been miles from civilization, instead of a mere thirty yards from the little town's main street.

  "Easy," I said. "Don't break a leg now."

  She said, "Matt, I'm scared. And cold."

  I took my little gun out of my pocket. "Here," I said, "it's still loaded. Don't shoot yourself and try not to shoot me, please, but don't hesitate to use it if you have to. If somebody's got to be dead, we'd rather it wasn't us. Well, I don't have to tell you. You've done all right with it so far."

  "What-what do you think will happen?"

  "I don't know, but they've already taken one crack at us, up in San Agustin Pass, remember? There's no doubt that they know us. Well, if they come to us, it'll save our looking for them."

  She was looking at the little revolver. "Matt, I. Hadn't you better keep it?"

  "Go on, take it. I've got a couple more, courtesy of some sick friends. We're gun-heavy, glamor girl. An armored division would have to be called out to match our firepower."

  She took the little five-shot revolver, tucked it into the top of her pants and smoothed the bulky sweater over it. I looked at her and tried to remember the moment I'd fallen in love with her, but you never know it when it happens. I studied her face, not forgetting that we'd made love, or that she had saved my life, or that there actually was a Wigwam Lodge in Ruidoso, even though there was-or used to be-a gent named Wegmann in Carrizozo… I tried to sort out the' valid 'evidence from the possible coincidences, making allowances for my own suspicious nature, and got absolutely nowhere. I didn't know.

  It was a hell of a time to be standing around in the snow feeling mushy and sentimental about a woman wh
o could be leading me into a trap-who had to lead me into a trap, if I was to do the job I'd come here for. I reached out quickly and did something I'd been wanting to do ever since that style of garment came on the market. She jumped a foot.

  "Ouch!"

  "Come on," I said. "Let's see what's inside."

  I started for the lighted door of the lodge. She came along, reaching back to rub the injured spot. "That isn't funny," she said with dignity. "Besides, it's vulgar. Besides, it hurts."

  "If your bottom were decently attired, my dear," I said, "it wouldn't get pinched… Well, here we are."

  The skinny blonde kid who opened the door was wearing a quilted robe and flannel pajamas, looked kind of cute even though her hair was in curlers. She called 'her mother, a stout blonde lady, who arrived in a flannel robe and nightgown. Her hair was in curlers, too, but she'd forgotten how to look cute years ago.

  We transacted business at a desk in the big rustic lobby that was littered with ski equipment and had the strange, specialized, incomprehensible atmosphere of a place devoted to a sport you're not the least bit interested in at the moment. There have been times when the idea of sliding down a hill on a pair of boards seemed very attractive-I've done my share of it-but this just wasn't one of the times.

  "I didn't know you had a ski area here," I said to the woman.

  "Oh, we've had a little one for years, sir," she said, "but now they're opening a big one up on Sierra Blanca-. that's the big white mountain to the north. Well, I guess everything's white today, haha, but it stays white all winter. Here's your key. You're in Cherokee, the third cabin around to the right. The stove's turned on and there are extra blankets in the closet. I hope you don't mind finding your own way. My daughter has a bad cold, and I-"

  "That's all right," I said. "We'll find it. Cherokee."

  "I hope you'll be comfortable, sir. We serve breakfast in the dining room from six-thirty…

  I went back across the yard for the suitcases. Gail fell into step beside me as I returned, and we walked together along a shoveled path around the main lodge. After passing a log cabin named Arapahoe and one called Blackfoot, we came to Cherokee. I set the suitcases down, got the key from my pocket and opened the door. It was dark inside. Warm air flowed Out to meet me as I picked up the suitcases again and stepped forward.