"Paul?" I said. "It would seem so."
"Your evidence?"
"Martell knows all about me, even to my code name. Of course, he might. have learned it elsewhere, but considering the short time I've been back in the service, it seems ~inlike1y." After a moment, guessing what was in Mac's mind, I said, "Anybody can be made to talk, sir."
"True, with reservations. But I wasn't criticizing Paul, only myself for putting him in that position. I.
shouldn't have sent him ahead to operate alone, Eric. I knew he wasn't up to it, not against a man like Martell. I…" There was a little silence. I was a little embarrassed. I mean, you don't want a guy like Mac to turn human on you. It shakes your faith in immutable things like life and death and the movements of the heavenly bodies. I heard him clear his throat again; then he said crisply: "Martell must have taken some action on his information, or you wouldn't know he had it."
"Yes, sir. He tried to get his boss, Fredericks, to dispose of me, at least temporarily. I'm assuming the inspiration came from Martell. He's handicapped to some extent by the fact that he has to maintain his cover as an obedient goon. Fredericks would start asking pointed questions if he caught his hired hand operating independently." After a moment, I said, "Question, sir."
"Yes?"
"We seem to be assuming that Martell's on some mysterious mission in this country, and has been on it for seven years or more. Has anybody considered the possibility that he might be on the up-and-up, in a crooked sort of way?"
"What do you mean, Eric?"
"Well, he could have chased after just one woman too many. Suppose he just got himself kicked off the team. He had to earn a living somehow, poor fellow, so he came over here and got a job carrying a gun for an American racketeer, since that was the kind of work he knew best. When Rizzi went to jail, he simply scouted the employment market and hooked up with the man paying top wages, who happened to be Fredericks."
"On this basis, how do you explain what happened to Paul?"
"Easily, sir. Naturally Martell doesn't want guys like Paul and me snooping around-not because he's conducting some secret operation for the other side, but simply because we threaten his new identity as Jack Fenn. Just like a crook who's gone straight for years wouldn't want a detective with a long memory threatening his newfound respectability."
"Do you believe this, Eric?"
"I don't believe or disbelieve. I just think it's a possibility that ought to be considered."
"It has been," Mac said, "and dismissed from consideration."
"Why?"
"For one thing, the people he worked for, as you must know, have a very permanent way of discharging employees who prove unsatisfactory. Very few of them turn up in the labor market afterwards. But you are right to a certain extent. We've learned that Martell did get himself into disgrace again, presumably some time between fifty-one, when we know he was working for them in Berlin, and fifty-three, when he first came into contact with our police under the name of Fenn."
"How did you learn this, sir?"
"With Martell, how would we learn it except from one of his castoff women. Fortunately, she had a grudge, and we worked on it and got what she knows. Although he's not ordinarily a heavy drinker, he apparently did talk in his cups on a couple of occasions. He felt somebody had given him a raw deal, she said. 'Just one little slip and they send you to Siberia!' was the way he put it
– America being Siberia, in his estimation. He tried to impress her with what a big man he'd been somewhere else, and what a come-down it was for him to be running errands for a punk like Rizzi."
I said, when he paused, "That still doesn't prove-"
"There's more," Mac said. "The girl was scared at hearing him talk that way about a big shot like Rizzi, and showed it. Martell laughed at her and said something about how Rizzi might think he, Martell, Fenn as she knew him, was running Rizzi's errands, but actually it was the other way around… When he sobered up, he beat her up and almost killed her. He said he would kill her if she repeated anything he'd said."
"Martell being what he is, I have no doubt he meant it."
"Neither had she," Mac said. "But the two thousand odd miles between New York and Reno apparently made her feel safe enough, after he'd gone west to join Fredericks recently, to start brooding over her wrongs in various bars, more or less aloud, and somebody picked it up and passed it to us."
I said, "Well, that does put a different light on it. So Martell felt he was using Rizzi in some way. That's interesting."
"Very." After a moment, Mac went on: "I've studied the interrogation tapes carefully, Eric. Reading between the lines, so to speak-there's more that I won't bother to quote-I've come to the conclusion that Mr. Martell's 'one little slip,' actually his third on record, of course, came very close to getting him liquidated. He was saved
– I'm guessing now-because somebody needed a man who could do a good job of impersonating a tough American gangster. Just an ordinary intelligence agent wouldn't do. The man had to be tough enough, and skilled enough with weapons, to maneuver himself into the position of being the trusted lieutenant of a big-shot like Rizzi. So Martell was reprieved, but he was reprimanded, demoted, and sent over here to ponder his sins and spend seven years building a reputation and a police record-for what?"
"Yes," I said. "It's a good question. And from Rizzi, he moves to Fredericks. What's the common denominator, sir, if there is one?"
"There is one," Mac said.
"Yes," I said. "Dope."
"Precisely."
I hesitated, and said, "A friend of mine had an experience on the Mexican border that may fit in with all this. Returning to her native land, she had her car searched very thoroughly, which had never happened before. She has the theory that it was because she happens to be Sally Fredericks' daughter."
Mac's voice was dry. "You have a valuable knack of making interesting and useful friends, Eric."
I ignored the interruption. 'She also has the theory that her male parent might be trying to get something across the border, and that she was suspected of carrying it for him. Confirm or deny, sir."
"Your friend is a fast girl with a theory. Confirm." Mac was silent briefly, then he asked, "What do you know about heroin, Eric?"
"That it's habit-forming, sir. What's going on? Are they sending guys like Martell to turn us into a nation of hop-heads so they can take us over easier? Like the British are supposed to have encouraged the opium trade in the last century to make the Chinese more tractable?"
"It's a possibility," Mac said. "But it does seem a little far-fetched."
"To go back to my friend's experience," I said. "Could Fredericks perhaps be having difficulties getting the stuff across the border these days?"
"He could."
"Serious difficulties, like having his lines of communications disrupted by crude individuals wearing badges? Serious enough that somebody'd think he was desperate enough to try using his own daughter as a courier?"
"Something like that."
"A large shipment, perhaps?"
"Quite large. It was traced from Italy to Mexico and the border was warned that it was moving north. Twice it was almost seized when The Man, as he is known, tried to bring it in through his normal channels. Various small fish were caught, but the bait was not taken with them. Rumors are that The Man made a serious error at this point."
"Such as?"
"Such as enlisting local help, which proved unreliable and greedy. You can't call it an actual hijacking, since the gentlemen below the border are quite amenable to reason, as long as it's a large enough reason in American dollars. The Man, to date, has refused to pay, although there's evidence that his supplies are getting low and his distributors are beginning to complain. Instead he sent a trusted expert south to deal with the problem, but the individual apparently wasn't quite expert enough, and disappeared. I have most of this information from another agency, which is giving us full cooperation."
"How full?" I asked. "If I fall over
a guy in the dark, can I kick him hard, or is he apt to be one of Mr. Anslinger's nice young men?"
"We have a clear field," Mac said. "Up to a point. Understandably, they don't want the shipment to get loose in the country. Understandably, too, they would like very much to get something concrete and legal on Mr. Salvatore Frederici, alias Fredericks. But I have persuaded them, by lying shamefully, that we know exactly what we're doing, and that our mission must have priority, in the national interest. I'd hate to have to eat my words, Eric."
"Yes, sir," I said. "Just what the hell are we doing?"
"We are finding out what Martell is up to," Mac said. "Disgraced or not, they wouldn't waste a man of his caliber on something completely unimportant. Actually, you'll also be acting in behalf of your family, Eric. I think you can see that anything that clarifies our problem is in their best interest, particularly if you can manage to give our cooperative associates the evidence they need against Fredericks. Judging by the reports I have here, the situation of Mr. Logan and his dependents should be a great deal more peaceful with Fredericks out of the way."
"You don't have to sell me the job, sir," I said, rather stiffly. "Anyway, I'm hardly staying up nights worrying about Logan's situation, and I doubt that you are. Beth and the kids are another matter, of course, as far as I'm concerned. Am I authorized to take steps to protect them, if necessary?"
"If necessary," Mac said. "But remember, your mission is not to protect your family, or even to get the goods on Mr. Fredericks, desirable though that might be. Your immediate responsibility is to discover Martell's mission-"
"What do our cooperative friends think about it?"
"They have no theories. It came as a surprise to them that he was anything but what he seemed. Their feeling is that he was hired as a replacement for the trusted gentleman who went to Mexico and wasn't expert enough to return."
"Contradiction, sir."
"You have evidence to the contrary?"
"Not evidence, just a hunch. Martell is a replacement, all right, but I doubt that he's in line to go to Mexico. He's too new and I don't have the feeling that Fredericks trusts him very far-not a thousand miles and a good many thousand dollars, I wouldn't think. There's a man Sally trusts a good deal more."
"Logan?"
"Yes, sir. In my opinion, Martell-or Fenn-is just an insurance policy Fredericks took out so he wouldn't get his head blown off when he started putting pressure on Logan. After all, he'd just lost his previous number one, from what you say, south of the border. And that's kind of interesting, when you come to think about it."
"What do you mean?"
I said, "Martell needs a job. Fredericks' most trusted man disappears, creating a vacancy. Do you think there might be a connection?"
"The thought had occurred to me," Mac said. "The possibility is being investigated."
"Anyway," I said, "Fredericks hired Martell, or Fenn, to guard the body; but I have a strong feeling the man he wants for the Mexico jaunt is the Duke."
"Your reasons?"
"It just adds up, that's all. Why else would he be scaring women and children out at the ranch? I'll check with Beth, but I think I'm right."
"It seems like an odd selection. A man with whom he's quarreled, according to my information; a man who has good reason to hate him?"
I said, "Ah, but you don't understand these gentleman adventurers like Mr. Logan. He's a man of principle, he draws lines. He's that rarity these days a man of his word. Regardless of personalities, if the Duke says he's going to Mexico and coming back, he's going to Mexico and coming back, and Fredericks knows it. All he has to do is get the Duke to say it."
"This Logan sounds like an interesting person," Mac said.
"Yes, sir," I said. "Interesting. Did you get another man out here?"
"Yes."
"Will you send him an alert signal immediately. A safe place for something I want to put in storage temporarily and someone to watch over it. I'll check with him in twenty minutes."
"I think it can be arranged." He gave me a number to call. "Eric."
"Yes?"
"After you learn Martell's mission, you can remember the standing orders for people in his category. They should be carried out, however, with at least a semblance of legality, to keep our brother agencies happy. Keep this in mind, particularly if you should have to deal with Fredericks as well."
I said, "I'd feel silly as hell trying to make an arrest." Mac said calmly, "Unfortunately, your feelings are a matter of complete unconcern to the government you serve."
"Well, I always suspected it," I said, "but it's nice to have it in the form of an official statement… Oh, I almost forgot. A detail."
"Proceed."
"Two unsavory characters just entered, illegally, a residence at the following Reno address." I gave the address. "They were attacked and killed by a dog belonging to the mistress of the house, not present. The dog was badly injured and had to be destroyed by the first person to discover the gory spectacle. Police are trying to contact the animal's owner, currently without success. Can you fix?"
"I think so. I gather you want publicity."
"Yes, sir. Particularly the fact that the lady of the house is missing. Radio and TV if possible. And the guy who's going to destroy the dog had better be warned that it's already dead."
"I see," Mac said softly. "I love your details, Eric."
"Yes," I said. "They're nice, aren't they? Good-bye, sir."
Chapter Seventeen
I KNOCKED on the bedroom door. Beth came out. Behind her, I caught a glimpse of the kid working on herself with comb and brush, in front of the dresser mirror.
"Whom were you calling, Matt?" Beth asked.
"My boss. You met him," I said.
"Oh, the gray-haired man who came out last year and tried to persuade me not to-"
"Yes."
"He wasn't very diplomatic. Everything he told me about… about your work was, well, shocking, to say the least."
"Sure." I found myself wondering just how hard Mac had actually tried to prevent the divorce. After all, reliable help is hard to get these days, and the work isn't suited to a married man with responsibilities.
Beth looked down at her hands, and said in a quite different tone, "I think you know what it's all about, don't you, Matt?"
"What Fredericks wants of the Duke? It wasn't too hard to guess, knowing Fredericks' current business and the Duke's former status and certain other things."
She said, "It was put as a straight business proposition first. Larry was to get a generous percentage for his trouble. Fredericks said he didn't mind paying one of his own men; he was just damned if he was going to be blackmailed by a bunch of… of lousy Greasers. If he did, he said, he'd never get a shipment through again without paying off to some bandit in a big hat. What he wanted was for somebody to go down there and scare the… put the fear of God into them." She studied her hands as if she'd never seen them before. "Larry refused, of course. He's not doing anything like that any more; hasn't been for years. Besides, he says there's nothing as dirty as…as dope."
"Very high-principled of him, I'm sure."
She looked up angrily. "Do you have to keep jeering at him?"
"You don't really expect us to be bosom pals, do you?"
She sighed and looked down again. Obviously she thought it would be nice if we'd be bosom pals, or at least pretend to be, in a civilized manner.
She said, "Then the threats began. And the… incidents. There'd be riders in the hills who didn't belong there. Betsy would wander off for a moment and come back with a lollipop somebody'd given her, although we'd seen nobody around. The boys would go off on horseback, and a couple of agreeable strangers would show them a fascinating trail they'd never seen before. They'd come back quite safe, excited and pleased, but the meaning was clear. It's been… just a nightmare, for weeks."
"Sure," I said. "Well, we'll see if we can't put a stop to it. You go back to the Duke and… what did you say?"
She hesitated, and shook her head. I went on: "I want both of you to go back to the ranch and sit tight. Tell the Duke I've got a proposition for him that I think will solve everybody's problems. Tell him I don't think there'll be any immediate trouble, but it would be just as well if he saw his way clear to passing up his afternoon nap, just this once."
"He doesn't take-" She checked herself, flushed, and said mildly, "He's only forty-six, Matt."
"That makes him about as much older than you are as I'm older than the kid in there," I said. "Interesting thought, isn't it? Anyway, tell him to keep his eyes open until I get there. Tell them I hate to intrude on his hospitality after being so politely shown the gate, but I think it's about time we joined forces. Where are the kids?"
"Peter took them to a friend's hunting lodge back in the mountains. Clara's with them-the maid-and our three regular ranch hands. They have guns and know how to shoot. The place can only be reached if you have four-wheel drive or horses. Peter took the Land Rover."
"Well, the opposition apparently has horses available, from what you've said. It's either very good or very bad. If your men are alert, it could be a tough nut to crack, but if anything does happen, you won't know it for hours or even days, since I don't suppose there's a phone up there."
"Peter is to report in every morning at a definite hour." She hesitated. "Larry decided on it last night. He sent them all off early this morning."
"Well, that should give us enough time. Fredericks' real tough bogs are probably from the city. This is a little different from riding around in the bills scaring women and children. Even if he knows the place, it'll take him a little while to mount an efficient wilderness operation for this kind of business."
"That's what Larry had in mind."
I said, "I think I've got it fixed for that mess in there to be cleaned up with no trouble to anybody."
She licked her lips. "I… we're very grateful. It was a dreadful mistake-"
"You can save your gratitude. I wouldn't lift a finger to keep the Duke out of trouble-particularly on a stunt like this-and I don't suppose his record can stand many more contacts with the law, even if he is a respectable rancher these days. But it just happened I wanted the news to go on the air that way, so he gets by with it again." I looked at her for a moment longer. Her color had come back, and she was really quite a nice-looking girl-well, I'd been of that opinion for years. I said, "Well, give my regards to Bwana Simba."
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