by James Burke
"Yeah. No round eyes left the place after them - nobody suspicious or coming this way, I mean."
"Sounds like you're right. They must be clean."
"At the moment anyway." Jackie laughed and after a moment Pat joined him.
"Okay, Jackie, everything's set and you two know your routines.''
"Like a trouper, boss."
''Good. I'll be seeing you shortly with our friends."
"With friends like those -"
"I know. I know. See ya in a few minutes."
Pat returned to the balcony. "All clear, Sammy."
"Good, good. I figured it would be. Those apes ain't gonna get mean 'til you make your deal."
"Sam, Sam - you have such a low opinion of your fellow man.''
"Who's talkin' about men?"
They both laughed, and then Sammy went inside, put his glasses into a small flight bag, and came back to the sliding door. "Well, Patrick, guess I'd better get home and clean up the place before the company arrives."
"By all means, my boy, we would not want to offend their 'couth' in any way."
"Okay, see ya shortly."
Pat was serious. "I sincerely hope so."
They shook hands and Sammy left. Pat waited a few minutes, still using the glasses. After checking his watch, he too went inside, put his glasses into a small flight bag, and left.
Earlier that afternoon, long before Morley had made his way toward the lobby of the Maeva, Paani, who was sweeping the verandah in a typically slow but untypically efficient manner, watched as a small jeep pulled into the packed sand driveway in front of the main entrance of the villa on Vera Ti. A man got out, looked around, then walked toward the door. She stopped sweeping to stand quietly and watch. The man was obviously a Westerner, light hair and light complexion, about forty to forty-five years old, pleasant-looking, and dressed casually in plain tan slacks and a quietly flowered shirt.
He knocked on the door and Kaulu answered. The man said something in French and Kaulu went away, leaving the man standing outside. Madame came, dressed as usual in her native pareu. The man began talking to her in a language Paani did not know at all, using his arms and appearing very excited. Madame looked worried, then the man said something else and she seemed to smile. She opened the door to let him in, and they disappeared into the house. Paani went back to sweeping.
About ten minutes later Madame and the stranger came out. Madame looked around but didn't see Paani, who was now dusting behind some furniture. Madame and the man walked quickly down the drive and got into the jeep. She was now dressed in Western clothes and carrying a small valise, which she threw in the back seat. They seemed to be in a hurry, for as soon as Madame was in and seated the man started the jeep and roared away.
Paani found the entire incident puzzling, but then all Westerners were puzzling. She was glad that Madame had smiled. She didn't like it when anything made Madame sad. Paani shrugged. It was none of her business. She resumed her methodical sweeping and dusting.
At 4:06 P.M., Morley, dressed in a pair of duck slacks and a dark polo shirt, entered the sparsely populated bar lounge of the Maeva Beach Hotel. He saw the three men who he'd watched arrive by cab sitting quietly at a far window table commanding a magnificent view of the sea and the misty island in the distance. Morley walked directly to their table, stopped about two paces short, and nodded his head in greeting. "Good afternoon. I'm Patrick Morley."
They all looked up at him, casually, with no apparent show of interest, as if he'd interrupted their conversation. Finally, the blond man, whom Morley knew to be Conners, nodded back and motioned Morley to sit down. He sat and looked around. Conners close up was a handsome, clean-cut man, well dressed in an obviously expensive poplin jacket with the collar of his silk shirt outside. On his left was a man of indeterminate age, coal-black hair combed straight back from a widow's peak low on his forehead, dark eyes, thick black eyebrows, and incredibly white skin. His mouth was a crimson slash cut straight across his expressionless white face. All Morley could think of was Dracula. It made his throat itch. The third man, who he recognized from his pictures as Latellier, had not moved a muscle, but continued to stare unblinkingly at Morley. He had never before seen such intense and undisguised hate emanating from a human being. The man was a study in anthropology. He was fat but not pudgy, like one of those Japanese wrestlers - hard fat. His jowls were heavy and hung down like a bloodhound's, their bluish black sheen extending across his cheeks in a whisker line that plunged on down into the collar of his stiff white shirt. His hair was grayish black and sparse, and he combed it, from a point low over one ear, across the mottled, olive-skinned dome of his incongruously small head in a pathetic attempt to disguise his well-developed baldness. But it was the eyes that sent a chill through Morley. They were malevolent. They seemed to bum with the evil of the ages, and it was uncomfortable to be the object of their hateful scrutiny. Morley felt as if he were in the presence of the devil himself. This was a man without scruples, without mercy, probably without any human emotions. He was sure of it.
Conners broke the silence. "Mr. Morley, we are here as you requested. Can we get down to business?"
"If you are prepared for the exchange, I am."
"We are prepared."
"If you will accompany me I will take you to the merchandise."
They went outside. There was a cab waiting with an engaged sign in the windshield. Morley led them to it, saw them inside, then gave the driver some whispered instructions. A small car, driven by a young Polynesian, was idling in the parking area ahead of the cab. Morley got in the passenger side and it took off, the cab following closely.
The journey was short. In a few miles they came to a wide area in the road, where a narrow sandy path led to the left down to the shore. There was a small dilapidated dock extending out into the water of a sheltered cove, and tied to it was Morley's boat. Morley watched from the corner of his eye but could detect no signs of alarm or apprehension on the part of the three men as they alighted from the cab and took in the sight. Nor did they seem to notice the revolver that had appeared in his hand. He gestured with it toward the boat, and they obeyed, walking onto the craft and down the steps into the "salon." It was crowded but adequate. Sam Kee was awaiting them, standing at the far end of a table that formed the central furniture grouping of the room. Sam too had a pistol at the ready. The young driver took his place on the top step of the entrance stairway, now armed with Morley's revolver. Morley stood as the three visitors seated themselves around the table, then sat down in the end seat where Sam had been standing. As he did so, Sam moved smoothly off to a point that allowed both him and the driver an unrestricted field of fire. The three visitors still gave no indication that they had noticed the guns.
Without further ado, Morley reached down, picked up a briefcase from the side of his chair, laid it flat on the table, and opened it. He took out six black leather spiral notebooks and shoved them across the table to Conners. The third man, the vampire, reached out and intercepted the books and started to leaf through one of them. Conners just sat, unmoving. The fat, evil man continued to glare at Morley through those dark and unblinking eyes. When the vampire finished with a book he passed it to Conners, who repeated the page-by-page examination and then placed the "accepted" book in a small briefcase. They followed this procedure for all six books, although they didn't spend nearly as much time on the last couple. Conners put the sixth book in the case and looked up expectantly. Morley reached into the briefcase and produced two unsealed envelopes and passed them to the vampire. After the same procedure of dual examination, Conners put them in his case and snapped the combination lock.
Latellier had not taken his eyes off Morley or moved a muscle. He appeared to be totally disinterested in what was going on around him. He had yet to say one word. Slowly he shrugged, his head leaning to one side, and raised his hands, palms up in the traditional Italian expression of "what now?" Morley brought a sealed envelope out of the case and passed
it to the outstretched talons of the devil-man, who tore the end of the envelope and pulled out a thin sheaf of folded papers. Reading them carefully but quickly, he put them back in the envelope and put it in his inside jacket pocket. Resuming his glaring at Morley, he reached down, brought up his briefcase, opened it on the table, and then shoved it toward Morley. It was tightly stacked with money. Morley pulled out a pocket calculator and began riffling through each stack and toting it up on the buttons of his little machine. He took his time, but finally he was finished. He nodded to Sam, who motioned for the young Polynesian to clear the stairs, then turned to Conners. "I see no need to repeat the terms of our agreement unless you wish to."
Conners shook his head. Morley continued. "Your taxi is waiting. He will take you to the airport. I will be aware of any deviation from this procedure and will consider such, or any attempt to harm or suborn the driver, to be a breach of our contract. I'm sure you understand. Likewise, I will consider similarly any attempt by you to leave the airport or to prolong your stay in Tahiti." Sam motioned with the barrel of his revolver as Morley continued. "Now please proceed to the cab. My assistant will escort you."
The three men left as instructed. As soon as the cab pulled away toward the airport road, the small car following closely behind, Morley moved up to the cockpit and started the engines. Sam was still below, working with some items he'd taken out of a box in one of the storage bins. After a few minutes he joined Morley topside and watched as they moved out through the lagoon and past the reef channel into the open sea. They turned onto a course that took them along the promontory and headed north toward Vera Ti. They were both smiling as they passed the port area and turned northerly into a following breeze, heading for the wide passage between the two is lands.
A young Polynesian man sat calmly far out on a rocky shelf overlooking the beach north of town. There was a large, craggy promontory on his left, its sides inaccessible to anyone but an experienced and well-equipped climber, which sheltered him from the wind and other elements and from sight of the town. On his right the lush green hillside sloped gradually back to sea level on the seaward side of the narrow white coral road. His small French compact car sat by the side of this road, but the young man couldn't see it through the jungle growth behind him. Casual observers, of which, luckily for themselves, there were none, might have thought the young man was having a solo picnic. This couldn't have been further from the truth. His "picnic basket" held a large pair of binoculars, a deadly looking automatic handgun, and a small black box the size of a transistor radio. There was no food in it at all.
The man seemed to be straining his eyes looking out to sea along the length of the promontory. Every couple of minutes he'd stop looking long enough to glance at his watch. Suddenly, far in the distance, out in the interisland channel, a boat appeared. The young man snapped the binoculars into place quickly. It was the boat! He could even see those two smart bastards sitting in the cockpit. No need to wait any longer. He took the little transistor like box, held it in front of him, flipped back a small but heavy plastic shield, and pressed strongly on the button underneath. Almost instantaneously there was a flash of fire on the horizon, and even before the dull boom reached his ears he could see that there was only fire and smoke where the boat had been seconds before. He watched with the glasses until there was no more fire, no more smoke, and definitely no more boat. No other boats were visible. There was not a sign that one had ever been there. Nobody had seemed to notice. As the young man repacked his "picnic basket" and headed toward his car, he could not help but marvel at the chemical and electrical genius that had made the whole thing so neat, so clean, so - possible.
21
The main entrance of the terminal at Papeete's Faaa Airport was crowded. The taxi dropped off the three men, who seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits as they entered the building's reception area. Conners checked his watch and started toward the side of the building that faced southwest. He motioned for the vampire and the devil-man to follow him as he went through a doorway and out onto a porch. A waiter seated them and took an order for drinks. He was back quickly with his full tray, and when he'd dispensed them and departed, the three men raised their glasses in what appeared to be a happy and friendly toast.
After a few minutes Conners again checked his watch. This time he nodded to the others. "Any time now, gentlemen."
They all seemed to be waiting happily for something, but as a couple of minutes went by, their faces began to reflect concern. Then, suddenly, there was a distant boom, flat and dull, but distinct and powerful sounding. Conners smiled widely, raised two fingers toward his right eyebrow in a mock salute, and said in a psuedo-grave tone, "Merry Christmas to you, Santa man!"
The devil-man actually smiled, raised his glass to Conners, and sipped from it. The corners of the vampire's horizontal mouth twitched, and then turned up, just a bit. The three men finished their drinks and ordered another round. Again they seemed to be waiting for something. After about twenty minutes an athletic-looking young Polynesian dressed in white slacks and a brightly flowered shirt appeared in the doorway to the reception area. He spotted the three men at the table and walked toward them, his face breaking into a wide, white toothed smile. Then the young Polynesian looked directly at Conners and raised his right hand with the thumb and forefinger forming a circle. When the young man joined them, there was handshaking all around, more drinks and toasts, until the loudspeaker called them for check-in on their departing flight.
Ms. Leslie Cantrelle finished mixing a round of drinks for the passengers in the last row of first-class seats on Quantas's nonstop flight from Papeete to Acapulco. Those three blokes must either be scared or celebrating: they were quaffing the free whiskey as fast as she could mix 'em. On second thought, it had to be a celebration; they were laughing too much, as if they were sharing some huge joke. Except for the creepy old man with the weird hairdo! What a mean-lookin' bahstud he was. Always staring at her crotch like he could see right through the uniform. He made her feel crawly and dirty, and unfortunately the creep was going all the way to London. Oh well, as long as he didn't start groping when the lights went down she could stand the staring.
Her intercom station buzzed. It was the flight deck. "Les, would you come up here please. Captain would like to chat with you."
"Be right there." She delivered the drinks on the way, and the "creepy bahstud" stared at her crotch the whole time. She knocked at the flight deck door. It opened.
"Come in, Les."
She went to the space immediately behind the left seat and stood. The captain turned in his seat to address her. "Leslie, we've got a problem. It's minor in terms of safety but major in terms of passenger convenience, and I want you to brief the rest of the cabin crew so they 'll be prepared to handle any questions or difficulties that may arise. We have an overheating engine, number three, and while there is no immediate danger, I and home base feel it would be foolish to continue to Acapulco. In a few minutes we will reach the point on our course where we are closest to Hawaii, and I've been instructed to proceed to Honolulu for necessary repairs. Now there's nothing to be worried about and I want you to make sure all attendants understand that. When you've briefed them, buzz me and I'll make the announcement."
"Yes sir. Will do."
"Thanks, Les, we're counting on you to carry this off."
Stewardess Cantrelle had performed her tasks as assigned and was delivering another drink to the creep and his friends when the skipper made his announcement. My God! She thought the old fart was gonna have apoplexy or worse right there in his seat. He turned green, then white, spilled and sputtered his drink all over, and generally looked like he'd been kicked in the bloody groin by a kangaroo. (Not a bad idea come to think of it.) Was he upset! And for what? He didn't seem that scared of the mechanical threat. The good-looking, polite, blond fellow finally got him calmed down by telling him that the stop was just an unforeseen emergency that had nothing to do with him p
ersonally; but creepy was still three sheets and looked like he'd founder any minute. About that time Ms. Cantrelle got a call for assistance from another station and happily left that grouping.
An hour and a half later they touched down at Honolulu International. The creepy old bloke tried to stay on the plane during the repairs but left quietly when the second officer told him rather forcefully that this was against airline and airport regulations and was strictly enforced. Leslie was the last of the cabin crew to leave, and she was following behind the creep and his friends when they entered the transient lounge. She didn't notice how it happened - there was no unusual commotion - but suddenly seven or eight men surrounded the three passengers. One of the newcomers said something to the creep and showed him a paper and what looked like a passport or card case. Then a nice-looking, well-dressed man took a pair of handcuffs out of his waistband and proceeded to put them on the creep's wrists and lead him away. The other two got the same treatment, but without the handcuffs. It was all over inside a minute, and they were gone, with those American blokes carrying the little briefcases those passengers had been so careful with. They didn't even go through customs.
21
The main entrance of the terminal at Papeete's Faaa Airport was crowded. The taxi dropped off the three men, who seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits as they entered the building's reception area. Conners checked his watch and started toward the side of the building that faced southwest. He motioned for the vampire and the devil-man to follow him as he went through a doorway and out onto a porch. A waiter seated them and took an order for drinks. He was back quickly with his full tray, and when he'd dispensed them and departed, the three men raised their glasses in what appeared to be a happy and friendly toast.
After a few minutes Conners again checked his watch. This time he nodded to the others. "Any time now, gentlemen."
