The Poisoners mh-13

by Donald Hamilton

  I sat down and tasted my cocktail, not bad, but actually I kind of enjoy a margarita once in a while. However, I wouldn't have spoiled Bobbie's act for the world.

  "Honestly?" I said. "You put me on the spot, doll. Honestly, I can't think of a single damn reason why you should stick out your neck for me."

  "Then why the hell didn't you take the ticket that was offered and go along for the ride? I mean, you haven't really got a conscience about tricking a girl into bed, have you? Particularly when she asks for it like I did. If you'd played along; you might have learned something, or overheard something."

  "Learned what?" I asked. "As long as you thought I was just a sex-mad sucker, you'd have been damn careful not to let me learn or hear anything I shouldn't. I figured I'd try convincing you I was a reasonably smart guy you could trust, a guy with a few scruples, even, and see what happened. Maybe you'd see a way you could use a guy like that, for your own preservation."

  "And are you a reasonably smart guy with a few scruples I can trust, darling?"

  I grinned. "We buried the last guy with scruples who tried to break into this business a long time ago. I think he lasted about six weeks, and only because it took that long for somebody to decide to send him out on a job. And only a fool would trust anybody in my line of work, Bobbie."

  She sighed. "There you go again, undermining your own buildup. What the hell are you trying to do to me, anyway, get me all confused? Don't you know I want to think of you as a knight in bright armor on a big white horse, riding to the rescue of poor little me?" When I didn't say anything, she made a face at me and took a big gulp of vodka slightly adulterated with vermouth. "I've got to really know why you did it… I mean, didn't do it. Hell, you wanted me all right, you wanted me badly. Why didn't you just take me and do the talking afterwards? The average guy would have figured to give the little girl a great big treat first, and she'd be his sex-slave for life, ready to risk anything for more of the same."

  I said, "Hell, maybe I'm just an insecure, inadequate type. Maybe I don't have quite that much faith in my virility." I hesitated. "Do you want to know the truth?"

  "That's what I'm asking for, isn't it?"

  I drew a long breath, and said, "Well, the truth is…" I stopped and cleared my throat and started over: "The truth is, you looked kind of nice, kind of pretty, with that thick movie crud washed off your face. I… I just couldn't do it to you, not like that." There was a little silence. I went on: "You can start the laugh track any time."

  She was looking down at her glass, twirling it between her fingers, using the long blond hair to keep me from seeing her face.

  "You're conning me, aren't you?" she whispered at last. "You know that's what I'd like to think, gullible me, so you're using it against me. Aren't you?"

  "Sure," I said. "A little. Naturally. How can I help it. After years of practice, how do you stop? But that was part of it, I swear it." The funny thing was, as I've already indicated, I was telling the truth.

  She sighed, and lifted her glass and drained it in one motion. Setting it down gently, she said, "I can't tell you where they are right now, Matt, if that's what you need to know. They didn't say where they'd be staying. But I know they figure on taking some kind of drastic action tonight, and before they do they'll want to hear what I've found out about you-about what you and that female dope-agent are up to. So they're going to call my room late in the afternoon, Tillery is. Maybe… maybe he'll let something slip. I'll see what I can find out for you. That's the best I can do." She drew a ragged little breath. "Matt?"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you really want lunch?"

  I said, "Frankly, for some reason, food isn't exactly what's foremost in my mind at the moment."

  She laughed softly. "In mine either. Drink your damn drink and let's go finish what we started, before I climb the damn walls…

  Later, much later, I woke abruptly and started to take evasive action, aware of a hand on my shoulder that might be hostile. I didn't know, and I wasn't about to wait to find out. Those who wait, waking up in doubt, don't generally live very long. However, my instinctive movement just got me entangled in blinding masses of hair that had a faint, clean, pleasant smell to it and reminded me of everything.

  I sank back onto the pillow. Bobbie, standing by the bed bending over me, straightened up and tossed back the long blond hair that had fallen into my face. She laughed a bit uncertainly.

  "My God, darling, do you always wake up like that? Next time I'll get a long fish pole and poke you from across the room."

  She was fully dressed, exactly the way she'd left the dining room, so that for a moment I found myself wondering if anything had actually happened between us, although I knew it had. Then, as I looked at her, I saw a faint pink flush come to her suntanned face, telling me it damn well had. We'd merely managed to shed the clothes, intact and rewearable, before shedding the inhibitions.

  I said, "I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"

  "Four-thirty."

  I whistled. "I must really have been asleep. Sorry."

  "What for? What do you think makes a girl feel more appreciated, a man who falls asleep in her arms, afterwards, or one who looks at his watch and reaches for his pants? I let you sleep as long as I dared."

  "Dared?"

  "Well," she said, "well, I don't think you'd better be here when Tillery calls, do you? For one thing, if they're watching, he may not call until he knows I'm alone." She hesitated. "Of course, if you don't trust me to talk to him alone…"

  I grinned. "Never talk about trust to a man in my business. I told you, we don't trust anybody-and if we should make an exception, we certainly wouldn't want it advertised. People might think we were getting soft, or something. Where the hell are my shorts?"

  She found them on the floor and kicked them to me. "Matt."

  "Yes."

  "You must be feeling pretty clever." Suddenly her voice was cold. "Kidding the girl into helping you at the risk of her life and… and getting a little bonus besides. Pretty smart! But then, you are a pretty smart operator, aren't you?"

  I found my shirt and put it on. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Are you having second thoughts, Bobbie? Like buying a used car: it looks good, it sounds good, but you're not quite sure, as you drive it off the lot, that the slick salesman hasn't sold you a rebuilt wreck with a crankcase full of sawdust. Is that it?"

  She made a face at me. "It's not nice to read a girl's mind, darling. That's exactly the way I feel. Can you blame me?"

  I said seriously, "No, I don't blame you a bit. And you can still change your mind if you want to. And if you don't-" I rose to zip and belt my pants, and stood facing her. "If you don't change your mind, if you go through with this, I want one thing clearly understood: I've given out no guarantees. Have I?"

  She licked her lips. "No," she said, "no, I'll hand you that for what it's worth. That's what makes me feel like such a sap. I'm supposed to be a pretty sharp character myself, but here I'm sticking my neck way out for you, and you haven't-"

  The telephone cut her short. We both jumped and turned to look at it. It rang again. Bobbie drew a long breath and reached out to pick it up.

  "Yes? Oh, yes, this is Bobbie." She caught my eye and nodded; and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level, speaking into the phone. "Yes, of course I recognize your voice, and I've got something for you, but… but I can't talk right now. Can I call you? Oh, I see. Okay, you call me. Yes, he's in the john, but I'm not sure he… Give me ten minutes to get rid of him and ring me again, okay?"

  She put the phone down and looked at me. I grinned. "Okay, I can take a hint. Just let me get my shoes on, will you?"

  Bobbie didn't smile. She said, "That was Tillery. I tried to get him to say where I could call him, but he wouldn't."

  "Sure," I said. "I heard you. You did fine."

  "Exactly what do I tell him when he calls back?"

  "Mostly the truth," I said. "Tell him you wheedled it out of me that my love
ly associate, the female heroin hound, is making arrangements to hit the laboratory in Bernardo, with Mexican help, as soon as Warfel has picked up his shipment and got clear out to sea again so he can't be warned. Then she'll head north across the border to be waiting for him when he brings the boat home. Just how she's planning to keep him from jettisoning the evidence when she marches on board to make the arrest, I don't know and therefore couldn't tell you, but apparently she has some plan in mind. As for me, since my official job finished with Beverly Blaine, I'm just hanging around to give the government girl a hand if needed, meanwhile making alcoholic passes at stray blondes and talking too much about things I shouldn't."

  "Matt."

  "Yes?"

  Bobbie licked her lips. "I'm scared. I know those creeps. I… I think Tillery called while you were still here, deliberately, just to see how I'd react. If I'd been willing to talk in front of you, he'd have known I was tricking him."

  "Maybe," I said. "And maybe he simply hasn't got enough men to keep an eye on us, and just called because he was ready to call." I picked up my jacket and took a step towards her.

  She stepped back and said sharply, "No, don't kiss me, you damn Judas. Just get the hell out of here and let me crucify myself alone." When I reached the door, she spoke to my back: "I'll call you in your room, okay?"

  "Okay," I said. "Bobbie-"

  "Beat it," she said. "Just keep going and close the door behind you and hope I don't come to my senses when you're gone."

  XVIII

  I noticed two things immediately upon entering my room. I saw that Charlie Devlin was reclining on one of the beds, in her shirt sleeves-well, blouse sleeves-with her shoes off, talking on the phone. I also spotted my suitcase, that I'd left in a Los Angeles motel, now resting on the luggage stand at the foot of the same bed. I was happy to see it. Not only could I use a clean shirt, but I also needed something hidden in that bag. That is, I would need it if everything worked out the way I hoped, and it wasn't something a conventional-minded lady policeman like Charlie would be apt to have handy.

  "Yes, I said a skin diver," she was saying impatiently. "What's the matter, is the connection bad at your end? A man with fins and tanks and a wetsuit… That's right. A skin diver. And he should have some kind of big plastic bags, big enough to hold several gallons, and some kind of adhesive that'll work on painted wood under water. No, I don't know of any, but there must be something; nowadays they've got stuff that'll stick anything to anything anywhere. No, I'm not crazy. We've got plans of the boat, haven't we? They show where the plumbing comes out through the hull, don't they? Well, as soon as Warfel docks, your man will swim down and fasten a bag over each opening so when they pump out the evidence it just stays inside the plastic where we can recover..

  Oh, for heaven's sake, you can work out the details with your underwater expert, can't you? You don't really expect me to… Of course the plastic will rip off at high speed! I said to wait until he docks, didn't I? He won't be going anywhere at high speed after that, he won't be going anywhere at all if we do our part… All right, call me back if you have any real problems." She put the phone down and looked at me. "You heard, Matt. Do you think it will work?"

  I shrugged. "It sounds a little Mickey-Mousey to me, but that underwater stuff is out of my line. Thanks for having my suitcase brought down."

  "It's got to work," she said. "I can't think of any other way… The suitcase? Oh, you're welcome. How did you make out?"

  "Make out?" I said. "Are you using the term literally or colloquially?"

  She examined me and made a little grimace of distaste. "Now that I look at you, I can see how you made out, colloquially. You have that satisfied-stud look. If I thought all this meant to you was a chance to go to bed with a blond tart in broad daylight-"

  I said, "Hush your dirty mouth, Devlin."

  She looked surprised. "What's the matter, are you sensitive about your methods? Do you feel guilty about seducing the poor little girl, so to speak, in cold blood? Poor little girl, indeed! That six-foot phony-blond tramp knows how to take care of herself, I'm sure. I wouldn't waste a worry on her, if I were you."

  I said, "Charlie, I don't mind that you talk too much, I just object to the way you say all the wrong things; and why the hell can't you fix your stockings so they don't bag at the knees? Other women seem to be able to keep up those nylon combination garments without any trouble at all."

  She said stiffly, "If you could keep your eyes off my legs-off any woman's legs-my stockings wouldn't bother you. And I've been just a little too busy making diplomatic arrangements to worry about a few wrinkles in my hose. You still haven't answered my question. Did you find out-"

  "I don't know yet," I said. "We should have the word shortly, so leave the phone clear for a few minutes."

  "She's going to call you here with the news?"

  "One way or the other," I said. "However it goes."

  "And if she does give you the information you need, what's the next step?"

  "I'll go after them, naturally," I said, rummaging in my suitcase. I threw some clean clothes onto the bed, and opened a trick compartment that yielded a small, flat leather case, the contents of which I began checking carefully. "I'll keep them from interfering with your pet dope smuggler, somehow."

  "I've made arrangements with the Mexican authorities." Charlie got off the bed and pulled up her nylon tights, almost unembarrassed this time. Pretty soon she'd be adjusting her brassiere in my presence without a blush. I didn't really know whether or not I looked forward to such an intimate relationship with this girl. She smoothed down her skirt, put her feet into her shoes, and picked up her purse to check her reflection in the mirror, giving me a glimpse of a small revolver that reminded me who she was and who I was and why we were here. She said, "Any help you require, Matt-"

  "Are you crazy? The last thing I need, from your viewpoint, is some eager Mexican cops. If they start arresting people, what's to keep them from throwing Warfel in jail along with everybody else? You don't want him in a Mexican jail, I gather; you want him in a U.S. jail."

  "Yes, but what makes you think he'll be available for arrest?"

  "Well, Sapio and Tillery and Co. must be planning to intercept him somewhere, before he makes the heroin pickup at Bernardo."

  "They could be planning to move in on him on the high seas afterwards, while he's sailing north with the dope."

  "That's not likely," I said. "They've tipped you off, through me, remember. They can assume that beyond Bernardo our boy is going to be under your surveillance all the way. Isn't he?"

  "Well, we've got a plane watch arranged-"

  "And Tillery's smart enough to anticipate it. No, he's got some reason to think he can catch Warfel and his boat somewhere else, earlier in the evening. It's the only answer that fits."

  "But he wants the laboratory taken care of, you said. And he knows we won't move in on it until we know that Warfel's taken the stuff aboard his boat."

  "Won't you? With the Mexican authorities breathing down your neck? They'll play along with you as long as your plan seems to be working, sure, but if you wait until daylight, say, without anything happening-no boat, no pickup-they'll take over the jurisdiction that's rightfully theirs, and clean out this source of infection on Mexican soil, and to hell with Frank Warfel and to hell with you, seсorita. You do have the lab spotted by now, I suppose."

  "Yes. It's a big, shabby-looking old house-trailer in a bunch of other ones on the shore, right out in the open behind a tiny village of adobe huts. One store, one gas pump. I must have looked right at that trailer half a dozen times, driving down the highway to Ensenada. They've got a boat and fishing rods and stuff for camouflage, but the foundations gave it away, among other things. Usually they just prop those trailers up on a few cinder blocks, but this is really solid. Of course it's got to be. You don't want to spill any of the reagents employed in the process because your whole laboratory jiggles every time somebody moves. Several would-be heroin re
finers have blown themselves sky-high when they got just a little careless." Charlie sighed. "I suppose you're right. We really have no authority here; the local people are just being nice. If Warfel doesn't come, the lab goes out anyway, and with it goes our only chance to discredit-"

  "Sure," I said. "So all I've got to do is sneak up on the Tillery contingent while it's sneaking up on the Warfel contingent, and put the former out of action without alerting the latter, letting Warfel proceed about his evening's business undisturbed."

  "You make it sound very simple."

  "Do I? I don't mean to," I said. "But it can be done, if I can find out where the intercept will take place. And if I'm not harassed by several squads of Mexican constabulary clanking badges and guns at my back. Just tell them to look the other way no matter what happens. That's all the help I'll need. I hope."

  "What about communications? How will I know if you've been successful?"

  "You'll see Warfel or one of his boys come for the dope at Bernardo, that's how. What's the matter?"

  "Why," she said, looking over my shoulder at the small, fitted case I was about to close, "why, that's a hypodermic!"

  She sounded as shocked as if she'd spotted a truly obscene object in my hands. I suppose, as a dope-cop, she associated a needle with only one purpose, although she must have had a few legitimate injections in her life.

  I said, "They are used for other purposes than shooting happiness into the circulatory system, you know."

  "And those little bottles?"

  I sighed. "Inquisitive, aren't you? It's really none of your damn business, Charlie, but if you must know, the one marked A kills instantly but is fairly easy to detect. The one marked B is a little slower, but only a biochemical genius who knows what he's looking for and works fast can find it in the body after death. We've been waiting for years for them to develop a single agent to take the place of those two, but there have been bugs in every one they've come up with, so it's been back to the drawing board for the scientific lads… – The one marked C puts the guy to sleep for four hours, more or less, depending upon the dosage. Any more questions?"