Delta Factor, The

by Mickey Spillane

  It was back again, that strange smell of danger. But the peculiar part was, it didn’t come from the faces I was looking at.

  Sabin said, “Perhaps you’d like to repeat your conversation.”

  “Hell, I was half gassed. My wife chewed me out for even speaking to the broad. Outside of a few compliments I don’t remember what I said.” I shifted in the chair. “You had your men tailing me. Didn’t they tell you what went on?”

  “To a point. Your conversation wasn’t audible.”

  “Tough,” I told him. “What happened to the broad?”

  “Strangled, señor. A most heinous crime.”

  I played it as straight as I could. “Well damn right it is, but I don’t see where I come into it.”

  Sabin’s face shaped itself into another self-satisfied expression. All of them were watching me now, waiting for any indication that I was lying. “Supposing I tell you that you were seen leaving the hotel at a specified time from an exit normally unknown to guests? Supposing I tell you that you were followed to a taxicab whose number was taken down and whose driver later identified you as a fare he drove to a street not far from the murdered woman’s?”

  But I had been through too many interrogations before. I let out a short laugh and looked square into those pig eyes. “Supposing you do, buddy. What am I supposed to say? Whatever happened to the tails you had on me? Who saw all this? And if I set out to see a broad just to knock her off, you think I’d let some taxi driver identify me? Come off it, I’m not that stupid. You try pulling a frame on me to get your hands on forty big fat millions that still belong to the United States Government and I’ll blow a whistle so loud the Navy will park a battleship in your backyard.”

  Very softly, Ortega said, “That wouldn’t do you much good, Senor Morgan.”

  I got up then and stood there, playing the hand right out to the end. “Maybe not, feller, but you’d get your noses wiped in your own crap. Don’t give me any of your garbage because I won’t take it. I told you once before, this isn’t amateur night in the bingo parlor.”

  It was my attitude that did it. I caught the quick scowl that clouded Ortega’s face, then the sudden look of consternation that touched Sabin’s eyes. I said, “Where did you pick up all this junk?”

  Sabin was caught off balance and said, “There was a phone call.”

  I pushed it just a bit further. “Anonymous, no doubt.” I saw his tongue flick out around his lips and knew I had it. “Big deal, Director of Police. I made a lot of enemies in my time, so now somebody spots me and makes a call Maybe that one was tailing me too, so he bumps a broad and drops it in my lap and you’re idiot enough to go for it. You could use some training in police technique.”

  Sabin’s face went red with suppressed rage. “There was the taxi driver, Señor Morgan. . .”

  “Nuts to that too. When does a cabdriver examine his fares at night? Get him here and let him try to make a positive i.d. on me.” I gave him another disgusted look and deliberately spit on the floor. “You guys are wasting your time.” Then I pulled the clincher. “Or is it because I happened to get a little friendly with your girl friend, Director? Lisa Gordot seems to be a woman who can use a friend.”

  Russo Sabin seemed to shrink inside himself. He half turned toward Carlos Ortega and saw those eyes watching him blankly with deliberately concealed malice because they thought he was exposing an entire organization through sheer stupidity over a woman.

  Casually, Ortega said, “I think that will be all, Señor Sabin.”

  The Director of Police was glad to get out of there, but not before he challenged me with one glance of pure hatred that meant it was only the beginning. With a wave of his hand Ortega motioned for the guards and Major Turez to follow him, then he leaned on the desk, his shoulders hunched like an animal anticipating a fight.

  “You could be a clever liar, Morgan.”

  “Why bother?”

  “That’s what bothers me. A man in your situation is in no position to change the status quo. Here you have sanctuary of a sort. Why should you jeopardize it? You have touched Señor Sabin in a sore spot. I have known about the Gordot woman some time now. However, he is a reliable man whose judgment I never before had to question. It seems unlikely that it should be done so now.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first guy to tumble over a woman,” I said. “But if it helps matters any, tell him I’m not interested in his broad so keep the heat off me.”

  “He will be informed.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed at the cigar, oblivious to the foul smell. “Now, there is another matter.”

  “Oh?”

  “The matter of forty million dollars you mentioned.”

  “I see.”

  “Naturally, that is too much for you ever to spend even at discounted rates.”

  “Naturally.”

  “It is a shame not to see so much fine currency in circulation, especially where it could be useful to a cause.”

  “Naturally,” I repeated.

  “There are ways for it to be distributed so that everyone could profit with little risk.” He shrugged to emphasize his point. “Of course, this country is autonomous and one can be safe within its confines.”

  “As long as it pleases you,” I reminded him.

  “Quite right, Señor Morgan,” he said. “And there are forty million ways of pleasing me.” The smile left his face and all that raw power came back. “Then, too, incurring my displeasure means nothing to me, but a great deal to you.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do not take too long. To expedite your thinking I have already informed your government that you are within our jurisdiction. We have no extradition agreement with the United States so we are quite capable of either returning you to your country or seeing that you have an unfortunate accident. I am really not impressed with having a battleship parked in my front yard. There would be that eventuality only if they could be sure of having you alive and their money intact with the possibility that they might extract its location from you.”

  “Clever,” I said.

  “Yes. I think so. I would not take too long to think it over, Morgan. Nor would I try leaving if I were you.”

  “Hell, I like it here. Everybody’s so damn friendly.” I turned around and walked to the door, stopping with it half open. “How long do I have to think about it?” I asked him.

  “While it is still your choice,” he told me.

  I nodded, knowing what he was thinking. What he didn’t realize was that I knew that someplace in Miami he had a man ready to get into that safe-deposit box they had set up for me and when it happened the guy would be nailed cold. It wouldn’t take Ortega too long to figure the deal out and when he did the trap would shut on me, but in the meantime I could stretch things out a little longer.

  When I stepped outside and closed the door I started toward the roulette wheeL As I passed the crap table a figure leaned back from the players and Marty Steele said, “You keep lousy company, Winters.” He pointed his head to where Sabin and the others were talking at the desk. While I watched them they finished their conversation and walked to the main doors.

  “Don’t I though?”

  “Those clowns are rough. If you’re on the con, cut out, friend. They’re worse than the cops in Vegas. They even bugged me some because I came in alone and traveling light and stayed longer than the usual tourist.”

  “They didn’t want anything from me,” I said.

  His face went into another one of those lopsided smiles that looked like his jaw was out of joint. “Just passing the word. They don’t even like big winners.”

  “The hell with them.”

  “Me too,” he said, and turned back to the game.

  I spotted Kim at the wheel and this time she had a three-inch stack of chips in front of her. She got the message I flashed to her with my eyes, cashed in her chips and followed me out.

  We couldn’t take any chances on the room having been bugged
again during our absence, so we made small talk, noises like a loving couple, then went into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast while she perched on the edge of the tub and I sat on the lip of the john and explained it to her. I was talking more to myself than to Kim, using her for a sounding board, and she knew it, not interrupting, but letting me get it out of my system.

  “They got a call, all right That’s what made Sabin so mad. He can’t figure the angle himself. Nobody knew I was leaving here except Angelo and you and I can’t see him in that picture. That leaves it up to pure coincidence and even that doesn’t smell right. I didn’t bust out fast. I made damn sure I was clear before I went to Rosa Lee’s place. If I was spotted, then it was because somebody was pretty suspicious of my exit and was good enough to follow me without being seen and that isn’t likely of anybody who just happened to be there. That leaves only two other alternatives ... that I was seen leaving or somebody was waiting for a move like that. Neither one makes sense. I know I didn’t have a tail on me going out of here and who the hell would be waiting for me to go out like I did?”

  “Could somebody have been watching Rosa’s place?” Kim suggested.

  “Then how would they get the cab number? No, I was tailed, all right. Somebody followed me as far as Rosa’s and killed her. Putting it on me was only a cover.”

  “Sabin didn’t mention you being followed back.”

  “No, and that’s a point I want to square away. Go out and call Angelo. Tell him to bring up some more champagne.”

  She got on the phone and five minutes later Angelo was in the room with another iced bucket of champagne. When I called him into the bathroom he looked at me oddly, then I asked, “How do you stand with Ortega’s crowd, Angelo?”

  “Why not ask me what you intend to ask me, señor?”

  Sometimes you have to take a chance. I threw it at him. “A girl named Rosa Lee was killed not long ago.”

  His eyes never left mine. “Yes, I know. You were accused.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Carlos Ortega is not the only one with mechanical ears, senor.”

  “Any explanation?”

  He shook his head. “At the moment, none. When we find that one, it will be over very slowly for him.”

  “You think it was me?”

  “I do not think so, señor. Others, they are not so sure. They have asked me the same thing.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “I told them the same thing.”

  “Can you check something out for me?”

  “I will be most pleased.”

  “There’s a man named Juan Fucilla, a guard at the Rose Castle. I want to find out where he is.”

  “Could he be the one?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “May I ask why you inquire about this one?”

  “To see if he’s still alive.”

  “Then I can assure you that he is. Before I came up I saw Senor Fucilla on the patio having a drink with one of our more notorious prostitutes. He frequents this establishment often. The woman is one of his favorite companions.”

  “Okay, Angelo, thanks.” I didn’t bother to explain any further and he didn’t ask any questions.

  After he had left, Kim said, “What was all that?”

  I went out, grabbed the bottle and tumbler, then went back to the bathroom. I popped open the champagne and spilled some of it into a glass. “Whoever followed me there didn’t hang around to see Fucilla come in. He knew the direction I had to take back, waited until I had passed him and went back and killed Rosa.”

  “Why?”

  “I wish I knew, kid,” I said.

  “She was engaged in antigovernment activities.”

  “No, it wasn’t Ortega’s people. They wouldn’t have killed her outright. They would have held her and tried to squeeze the names of the others out of her. This was something else. It ties in with the shot somebody took at us.

  Kim’s brow knitted in a frown and she tossed her hair back with a gesture of annoyance. “Perhaps not. If somebody had wanted to kill you, he would have had the chance at Rosa’s house.”

  “And maybe he didn’t want to expose himself when there was a better way out. In that case Rosa meant nothing to him except a girl I was with for a while.”

  “But who?” Kim insisted.

  “Somebody’s been keeping an eye on me. It’s only a feeling I have, but it’s the only one that makes sense.”

  “You think they might know why we’re here?”

  I waited a minute, then said, “No, it isn’t that at all. At least I hope not. If Rosa made the contact with Art Keefer before she was killed we still might keep this machine in motion. She was the only source of communication with the mainland I have. If it was a simple kill then Sabin wouldn’t have any reason to tear her place apart and come up with the radio transmitter. If politics were involved, then we’re in a spot.”

  “I still have my contact left.”

  “You’re looking to get us both killed. I was supposed to make the arrangements in and out, remember? All we need is for the Soviets to know we’re taking an extralegal hand in political affairs here and that gives them the right to step in too. With Cuba on the Red side, this area would make a neat little secondary base to plant their operation in.”

  “Just the same, we’d better move fast.”

  “I intend to,” I told her. “Where’s your passport?”

  She gave me a strange look, then reached in her handbag and passed it to me. The name and picture were going to have to be changed and the impressed seal faked, but that shouldn’t be any trouble. I went to the corner of the room, lifted the rug from the matting under it and raked out some of the larger-denomination bills I had stashed there. I took five thousand from the pile, stacked the others into a small sheaf and threw them on the table. “Take care of that,” I said.

  Kim watched me carefully, wondering what I was up to. When I pulled my coat on she asked, “Where to now?”

  “Favor to a friend. I’m getting Lisa Gordot out of this place.”

  Her eyes flashed fire at me, her body tense with anger. “If you think . . .”

  “Can it, sugar. I want Russo Sabin off balance as far as I can get him. The more trouble they have the quicker they’ll tip their hand.”

  Only the discipline she had learned at the academy kept her from throwing something at me. I gave her a pleasant little grin, blew a kiss at her and left.

  Angelo was glad to do me a service. He photographed Lisa with a Minox camera right in her room, promised a serviceable passport within the next few hours, then left after cautioning me that Senor Sabin had positioned guards at strategic points around the hotel with specific orders to detain either Lisa, Kim or me if any of us attempted to make a break for it.

  The look of hope Lisa had evaporated slowly as she sat in the big chair facing me. She had changed into a gown of some shimmering silver material that clung to her with skinlike tenacity, but inside it the vibrant quality of the woman had wilted into the static effect of a mannequin.

  Her eyes, dry now, had no luster to them. “There really isn’t much use to try now, is there?”

  I plucked the roll of bills from my pocket and handed them to her. “Don’t quit so easily. Busting out of this place won’t be that hard and shaking Sabin’s men can be arranged. You’ll make a plane out of here if you don’t run scared and do what I tell you to. Hell, you’re not dead yet.”

  She let me see the tiniest of smiles. “Yes . . . that’s quite true.”

  “And this isn’t the first jam you’ve been in.”

  This time her laugh was real. “More true than ever. I wish you’d tell me why you’re doing all this.”

  “You’re my diversion, Lisa. You’re going to help split their forces. History records a lot of governments that fell because of a woman.”

  “And what do you get out of it, Morgan?”

  “If you’re real curious, look me up in some back issue of any ne
wspaper when you have time. It won’t be nice, but it will be interesting. I’m really typecast. Probably the only character who can pull this stunt off.”

  “Morgan ...” She came out of the chair, the dress making a soft, slithering sound. “Whether you do or not, I’m still appreciative.” Her arms went around my neck and with a provocative motion of her tongue she wet her lips and touched them to my mouth. There was nothing static about her now. Under my hands she quivered and when I kneaded my fingers in the smooth flesh of her shoulders she moaned softly into the kiss, felt for my hand and pressed it against the hard rise of her breast, her body curving forward to flow against my own.

  I pushed her away and held her face in my hands. “No, kid.”

  Her eyes fought me. “Why?”

  “Because we need the tension. We have to stay tight. Relax and it’s dead time.”

  “You’re a bastard, Morgan.” But she smiled, knowing what I meant. “I won’t let you get away, you know.”

  I nodded. “I know. Someday ... another time, another place.”

  “But someday soon,” she added.

  I shut and locked the door behind me and walked into the suite. The wall radio that had been playing a fast flamenco number suddenly was interrupted to give another optimistic weather report from the local government station, stressing the lack of necessity for anyone making a hurried departure.

  She was so nearly motionless that I didn’t notice her at first, sitting at the end of the couch in the shadows. There was something odd about the way she watched me pour a drink, only her eyes following my movements. On top of the glass-covered table in front of her were three five-hundred-dollar bills.

  I walked over and stood looking down at her. “What’s bugging you? I wasn’t gone long enough to go the delta-factor route.”

  Kim’s eyes never left mine. “We’re back to the X factor again, Morgan.” Her voice was completely frosted. “Look at those bills.”

  I frowned, put the glass down and inspected the money. Good solid U.S. currency. “What about them?”

  “They’re part of what you left here. Where did you get them?”