Short Straw

by Stuart Woods

  Apart from that, he had rid himself of one, possibly two, hit men and won Joe Big Bear's case in court. All in all, it made him feel like playing golf when he should be working. It was more fun, if he should be working. He called Wolf Willett.

  "You up for some golf?"

  "Sounds like more fun than working," Wolf said.

  "Half an hour?"

  "Done."

  Half an hour later they were on the first tee, looking at a very straightforward par four, three hundred and seventy-five yards. Wolf hit a nice straight drive. So did Eagle, but ten yards shorter.

  "I've never understood why you can't translate all that height of yours into length on the golf course," Wolf said smugly. "I mean, I'm nearly a foot shorter than you, and I just outdrove you."

  "I want to encourage you," Eagle said. "Later, when there's more money involved, I'll get longer."

  Vittorio drove away from the airport, then pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. "I guess we can wait them out," he said. "Check back every hour."

  "We got lucky that time," Cupie said. "They were dumb enough to park that tank outside. Next time, they might be inside the terminal, and we only know what one of them looks like. Let's drive to Puerto Vallarta and try the airport there."

  "Okay by me," Vittorio said. "What about you, Babs?"

  "You guys are nuts," she said.

  "What? We just earned our ten grand each, protecting you from the kidnappers; the rest is a free ride for you."

  "Let's get going," she said. At least, she had stopped popping up out of the backseat every ten minutes.

  "Just relax, baby," Cupie said, "and we'll get you home. Wherever that is."

  "Shut up and drive," she said.

  Vittorio put the car in gear and headed for Puerto Vallarta.

  They left the course after nine holes and went to the clubhouse for some lunch. Eagle told Wolf about his feelings of relief and safety.

  "Relieved and safe is a good way to be," Wolf agreed. "Of course, there's another woman out there somewhere, just waiting to do it to you all over again."

  "You mean you think they're all thieves and murderers?"

  "No, just our first wives. Maybe you'll get lucky next time, the way I did."

  "You did get lucky, didn't you?"

  "Yeah, and now when I pay my film editor, the money stays in the family. And not only that, when she's not working with me, she goes out and earns a very nice buck working for other filmmakers."

  "Now that is devoutly to be wished," Eagle said, wonder in his voice. "To think that I was happy this morning, thinking all my wife had cost me was three hundred and fifty grand, and your wife is out there, bringing home the bacon."

  "The eggs, too, in a good year."

  "I'm never, ever, ever going to get married again," Eagle said. "I should never have done it in the first place."

  "That's not good thinking," Wolf said. "Goes against the natural order of things."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that man is not meant to be alone; he craves companionship."

  "And sex."

  "That, too."

  "I got news for you, pal: from now on, dinner and a roll in the hay is enough companionship and sex for me. Maybe a dirty weekend now and then."

  "Yeah, but you're not getting that warm, family feeling around the holidays."

  "I'll sleep through the holidays."

  "Yes, and alone."

  "I HAVE TO PEE," Barbara said.

  "I'll let you know when we're at the next gas station," Vittorio replied.

  "I have to pee right now," she said. "The road is bumpy."

  "Then you're going to have to make do with a cactus for a bathroom."

  "Let me worry about that."

  Vittorio pulled over. "There's a nice one right over there," he said. "Some bushes, too."

  Barbara got out of the car and picked her way across twenty yards of desert in her high heels to a clump of flora.

  "Uh-oh," Vittorio said. He was looking in the rearview mirror.

  Cupie swiveled his head around and looked back down the long, straight highway. "It's a black dot," he said.

  "Right."

  "Gimme those binoculars of yours." Cupie focused on the black dot. "Uh-oh," he said. He rolled down the window, letting in a gust of hot, dry air. "Barbara!"

  "Just a minute," she yelled.

  "Stay where you are," Cupie called. "Car coming."

  "Big deal!"

  "I hope not, but it could be." Cupie watched through the glasses as the black dot got bigger. "Take off your hat," Cupie said.

  "What?"

  "Vittorio, they may not remember you, but they'll remember that fucking hat."

  Vittorio took off his campaign hat and dropped it on the floor. "You know what I wish?" he said.

  "What?"

  "I wish I had a heavy machine gun."

  Cupie was still glued to the binoculars. "It's a black SUV," he said. "I wish I had a hand grenade."

  Twenty-three

  CUPIE AND VlTTORIO WERE HOLDING UP A MAP, CONCEALing their handguns beneath it, when the black Suburban pulled alongside them and stopped. A window slid down, and two men grinned at them from the front seat. They couldn't see who was in the backseat.

  "Buenos dias, senores," the man in the passenger seat said. He was middle-aged, mustachioed, bad teeth.

  "Hiya," Cupie yelled, smiling, too. "You speaka the English?"

  "Of course, senor," the man replied. "Do you need help?"

  "We're just looking for the best way to Juarez."

  "You go straight ahead, all the way to Tijuana, then turn right on highway number two, and that takes you all the way to Juarez."

  Cupie looked at the map, puzzled. "Wouldn't it be shorter to go more cross-country?"

  "Yes, senor, but the roads are not so very good, and, of course, there are the banditos."

  "Oh, I see. Well, it sounds more exciting that way. Thanks very much."

  The rear window of the Suburban slid down a couple of inches and a pair of eyes appeared, looking into the rear seat of the Toyota, then it slid up again.

  "Adios, senores," the front passenger said. "Vaya con Dios!" The Suburban roared away.

  "Speaking of banditos," Vittorio said, "that guy looked just like the bandit in Treasure of the Sierra Madre. The 'We ain't got no steenk-ing badges' guy."

  "Yeah, and his intentions are pretty much the same." Cupie looked over to see Barbara coming. "Get back in the bushes!" he yelled, and she turned around and disappeared again. He turned back to Vittorio. "You think they bought it?"

  "Well, they didn't see the lady, did they?"

  "I don't think they bought it." Cupie yelled out the window. "All right, they're gone; get back in the car."

  Barbara made her way back to the Toyota and got in. "Was it them?"

  "You bet your sweet ass it was," Vittorio said.

  "Where did they go?"

  "Straight ahead."

  "Then let's turn around and go back to the Acapulco airport."

  Vittorio shook his head. "The driver of the Suburban talked to the cops there; they'll be looking for you."

  "He's right," Cupie agreed, "and they're probably on the phone right now, giving them a description of us and our car."

  "So what do we do?" she asked.

  "Let's make a pass at the Puerto Vallarta airport," Cupie said, "and if it's staked out, we'll just go straight on to Tijuana and walk across the border. We'll get you a cab to the San Diego airport, and you're free as a bird."

  "Sounds right to me," Vittorio said. "You on board, Babs?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  Vittorio put the car in gear and drove off, dawdling along at fifty miles an hour. "Let's let them gain a little on us," he said.

  EAGLE WAS BACK at his desk at three o'clock, showered and relaxed.

  Betty buzzed him. "That realtor, Sally Potter, is on the phone."

  Eagle picked it up. "Hi, Sally."

  "Hi,
Ed. I just sold a house; you up for a closing?"

  "Sure, send me the contract."

  "I'll have the buyer bring it over; you in all afternoon?"

  "I'll be here until five."

  "You're not breaking a sweat over there, are you?"

  "Not so's you'd notice."

  "The buyer will be there in twenty minutes."

  "I'll dust off the welcome mat." He hung up. Sally Potter and other realtors often recommended him as an attorney for house buyers. He did forty or fifty closings a year, and an assistant did all the work. It paid for the copying machine and the phone bill, he reckoned.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Betty buzzed him. "Your buyer is here," she said.

  "Send him in."

  There was a chuckle from the other end of the line, and Betty hung up.

  Eagle looked up to see a knockout blonde walk into his office. She was in her thirties, five-seven, a hundred and twenty-five pounds, wearing tight, starched jeans, a fringed buckskin jacket and a chambray shirt with the top couple of buttons invitingly undone. Her breasts were contained in about a 36C, and he reckoned it was a cup size too small. Eagle was sure he had seen her someplace before, but he couldn't place her. He was on his feet in a flash. "Good afternoon. I'm Ed Eagle."

  "Hello," she said in a throaty voice. "I'm Susannah Wilde." She held out a hand.

  Eagle shook it and waved her to the sofa, taking the chair opposite. The movies, he thought. He didn't go to the movies much, waiting for them to turn up on satellite TV, but he'd seen her in something. "So, you've bought a home in Santa Fe?"

  "Yes, I have. The seller accepted my offer a couple of hours ago." She dug into a large handbag and came out with a paper. "Here's the contract."

  Eagle scanned the document. A nice place on Tano Norte. A writer had built it and sold it to somebody else, who was now selling it. Three million bucks; Ms. Wilde was either very successful in the movies or handsomely divorced, or both. "Will you require a mortgage?" he asked.

  "No, it will be a cash deal."

  "I'll get a title search done and arrange for title insurance. I can recommend an insurance agent for your homeowner's policy."

  "Thank you, but Sally has already put me in touch with somebody."

  "What brings you to Santa Fe, Ms. Wilde?"

  "Please call me Susannah. I'm an actress, and I live in L.A., but frankly I'm tired of it. I've sold my house there, and I've found a pied-a-terre for when I'm there on business, but I plan to make my real home here."

  "I know the original owner of your house, and I've been there for dinner. It's a beautiful place. I especially remember the library."

  "Yes, I'm thrilled to have it."

  "When do you want to close?"

  "The owner says he can close quickly, so the sooner the better." She gave him the name of the seller's attorney.

  "A couple of weeks okay?"

  "That's fine with me."

  "Where are you staying?"

  "At the Inn of the Anasazi."

  "I'll call you as soon as we've agreed on a closing date. Will you be staying long?"

  "I'm going back to L.A. tomorrow, to get moved into my new apartment, but I'll be back for the closing, and I'll move in the same day, so can you schedule it for first thing in the morning?"

  "Of course." He took a deep breath. "Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

  She smiled. "How kind of you. Is this all part of the service?"

  He smiled back. "No, this is a special occasion," he said.

  "I'd love to." She stood and shook his hand again. "What time?"

  "I'll pick you up at seven-thirty, if that's all right."

  "I look forward to it." She turned and walked out of his office.

  He watched her go. "Oh, shit," he whispered to himself. "I may be in trouble again."

  Twenty-four

  THEY ENTERED THE OUTSKIRTS OF PUERTO VALLARTA AND saw the airport sign.

  "Not yet," Cupie said. "Drive into town; I got an idea that might buy us a little breathing room."

  "Where do you want to go?" Vittorio asked.

  "The police station."

  "I want to get out of here," Barbara said.

  "Of course you do, sweetheart," Cupie replied, "And I think I can make your trip a little bit safer. Don't park out front, Vittorio; make it about a block away."

  Vittorio found a parking spot, and Cupie walked down the street to the police station. As before, he was sent to the rear office of the captain, who was sitting at his desk reading a girlie magazine.

  "Buenos dias, senor," the captain said, immediately recognizing a man who had promised him a five-thousand-dollar reward.

  "And to you, captain," Cupie said, taking a seat.

  "We are looking for your shooting lady very hard," the captain said. "We have covered all the airports and border crossings."

  "That's what I came about," Cupie said. "I want to withdraw the charges against the lady."

  The captain's face fell. "But, senor, this is not so easy, you know. Much paper has been, how you say, pressed?"

  "Pushed."

  "Many man-hours have been expended in the search."

  Yeah, sure, Cupie thought. "I'm aware of that, captain, and my client is very grateful for your cooperation." Cupie reached into an inside pocket and came out with twenty one-hundred-dollar bills. "He has asked me to personally deliver to you this expression of his gratitude." He laid the money on the desk. The captain made a motion with his hand, and it disappeared. "Even though the woman was not captured."

  "But she shot you, senor," the captain said, his voice trembling with outrage. "Surely, you cannot let such an insult pass."

  "My client has made my honor whole," Cupie said, "and the lady and I have settled our differences."

  "So, you know where she is?"

  "She should be in New York by now, I think. Her husband sent a private aircraft for her, and I put her aboard it very early this morning."

  "Senor," the captain said, "I hesitate to mention this, but I have had reports of two gringos in a Toyota SUV who caused a serious accident outside Acapulco yesterday. I wonder if you are aware of this?"

  Cupie put on his most innocent face. "No, I have not heard of it," he said. "My partner is not a gringo but an Apache Indian. He and I are driving a Toyota, but it is a sedan, not an SUV. I do hope the occupants of this car were not injured."

  The captain shrugged. "Only their pride," he said. "They are police officers, you see."

  "Ah, any person would be very foolish who would cause an accident to police officers. Having been a policeman, myself, for thirty years, I can understand their displeasure. If you have a description of the two men, I would be happy to keep an eye out for them. Now that our work is done, my friend and I plan to spend a couple of days on the beach."

  "I'm afraid I do not have a description, other than that they are gringos," the captain said. He stood up and offered his hand. "But this is not your problem, senor; we are perfectly capable of finding them without your assistance."

  Cupie stood up and shook the hand. "I am very sure you will do so, captain. Thank you again for your assistance, and I hope that we may meet again on some more pleasant occasion."

  "Vaya con Dios," the captain said.

  Cupie strolled back to the car and got in. "I think," he said, "that I may have gotten the dogs called off. I gave the captain two grand and asked him to end the search for our lady friend."

  "You think that will work?" Barbara asked from the rear seat.

  "Let's give the captain an hour to give some orders and then make a run at the airport," Cupie said. "We've still got plan B, Tijuana, in reserve."

  "I'm hungry," Barbara said.

  "Do you think you can eat lying down?" Cupie asked.

  "Find me some food, and find me a place where I can eat without being seen," she commanded.

  "Vittorio?"

  "Let's look for a taco stand," Vittorio said.

  Twenty-five

  THE
THREE OF THEM SAT ON PINE NEEDLES IN A LITTLE patch of woods off the main road, eating tacos and drinking Dos Equis.

  "I hope this food doesn't do things to my digestive tract," Cupie said.

  "It's cooked," Vittorio pointed out, "and the beer isn't going to hurt you."

  Barbara finished her taco and stood up. "Excuse me, while I locate the powder room," she said, then vanished into the trees.

  "There's something I didn't mention in front of the lady," Cupie said.

  "Oh, shit."

  "It's not necessarily bad. The police captain told me his people are looking for the guys in the Toyota 4Runner; that's you and me."

  Vittorio allowed himself to look minutely alarmed. "And how is that not bad?"

  "They don't have a description of us, just the SUV, and that is now history."

  "I hope it's history they don't bother to check with the rental car people."

  "So do I, but I think we're okay. He took the two grand, made it disappear like a sleight-of-hand artist; that should mollify him. I also told him we put Barbara on a private jet out of here early this morning and that she's halfway to New York by now."

  "Let's hope he buys that."

  "He was disappointed, naturally, not to get the whole five grand."

  "Not as disappointed as he was not to get her three hundred grand in travelers checks. The natural state of mind of your average Mexican cop is Greedy, with a capital G."

  "Well, let's hope he thinks she's gone."

  "You know what I'd like to do?" Vittorio said. "I'd like to give her the ten grand back and get the first plane out of here to anywhere."

  "I don't think you'd run out on the lady, after making her a promise, but I'd feel better if we were better armed," Cupie said.

  "I can do something about that," Vittorio replied.

  "You got a secret weapons cache?"

  "I got a guy in Mexico city who can deliver anything anywhere. What would you like?"