Brett Halliday - Six Seconds to Kill

“I was calling the Coast Guard. You’re hurt!”

“Too much free champagne.”

Leaning on her heavily, he headed for a wooden crate. She continued to hold him until she was sure he could sit by himself.

“I got you into something, didn’t I? God, I’m sorry. What should I do now, get the car?”

“Yeah.”

He fished out the keys.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Mike? Maybe I ought to-”

“Get the car.”

While she was gone he watched the Mozambique pull slowly out into the Cut. The passengers along the rail went on waving and throwing streamers. The band still seemed slightly frantic.

Adele returned. She looked down at him anxiously, and helped him stand. The pain had receded slightly. He probably could have walked by himself, but she insisted that he lean on her. He let her drive.

She suggested in a small voice that he could use a doctor. He didn’t reply, and called the turns. Presently they were drawing up in front of his apartment hotel on the north bank of the Miami River.

The day-clerk rushed out when he saw Shayne. Shayne waved him away.

“I’ve already got one person looking after me. That’s enough.”

Upstairs, Adele unlocked the door for him. He was going to let her look at his head in a moment, and then he needed a change of clothes-he was soaked with foam. First he poured himself a stiff cognac. The neck of the bottle knocked against the glass.

“Adele? Cognac?”

She wasn’t sure. She splashed a little into a glass, tried it and coughed, then added ice and considerable soda. Shayne downed half his drink.

“I need a little maintenance. Before we get to work, tell me how you figure that skirmish on the boat. What was the point?”

“I honestly don’t know! Except I think you were the one they wanted, not me. It’s just as mysterious as that business with the wheels. How did they know? When I asked about Raphael it was as though I’d given some kind of signal-he got all peculiar and gave you that suspicious look. When I went back into the crew quarters they came after me.” She tasted the drink again and said miserably, “I did just what they wanted me to. I shouldn’t have tried to fight, or made any noise.”

“Had you ever seen either of them before?”

“Not as far as I know. I did get an impression that there was something -military about them. All those groups like Vega’s used to pretend they were soldiers. I thought they’d outgrown it.”

Shayne set down his empty glass and went into the bedroom. He stripped off his soggy clothes. Leaving them where they fell, he put on a beach coat. He got out some first-aid equipment and called Adele.

“I can’t see what I’m doing. Cut off some of the hair and slap on a piece of tape. I’ll get some professional repairs when I have time.”

“I’m not much of a nurse,” she said doubtfully.

Shayne pulled a straight chair into the bathroom and sat down astride. She made one or two snips with the scissors, standing behind him. Then her breath came out in a long sigh, and the scissors and the bottle of disinfectant fell from her fingers. She slipped quietly to the floor.

Shayne regarded her with the trace of a smile. He checked the time. It was a few minutes after five.

He picked her up and placed her on the bed. He poured more cognac. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slipped an arm under her shoulders and raised her head. He held the glass to her lips and let her breathe the fumes. When her eyes opened he tilted the glass. She sputtered helplessly, but swallowed a mouthful.

She looked around in alarm, and pressed her face to his bare chest. He continued to hold her loosely.

“That’s the first time I ever fainted in my life.”

Her lips moved against him. For an instant his hold tightened. Then she shifted in his arms, and looked at him seriously.

“I was so scared. I can’t begin to tell you. The way they pounced on me. I was sure they were going to kill me. Then that ax came through the door! That fire extinguisher. You’re a-pretty impressive person.” She raised her head and kissed him gently. “And here we are. I have more clothes on than you do. I don’t think that’s right.”

He laughed, and she insisted, “Why don’t we? I know you wouldn’t ordinarily, because why should you pay any attention to me? But I did a sort of stupid thing and you rescued me, and you’re still woozy from that cut on the head, so you aren’t as iron-willed as usual-”

She ran her hands inside his robe. “Make love to me! Or I’ll have hysterics, and you don’t want that, do you? Hold me. Do. Do, please.”

Twisting, she pulled a zipper and her blouse opened. He let her kiss him again, and then, very slowly, he began to disengage.

She followed him urgently. “Mike, you can’t go yet. You have to recuperate. It won’t commit you to anything. Then we can really trust each other. Will you?”

There were two possible answers, and there was something to be said for them both. She was kissing him again, and there was no doubt, Shayne thought, that she was a determined girl.

It was beginning to seem that she would win.

Ten minutes passed. Then it took them another ten minutes to untangle completely.

“Mike, dear,” she whispered, “how nice that was. You were sweet to do it when you didn’t want to.”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

She smiled. “Possibly from something you said.” She put her forehead briefly against his shoulder, and looked up at him. “It wasn’t too strenuous?”

He rotated his head carefully. “Maybe it’s what I needed.”

“I told you! Darling, let me try again with the scissors. This time I won’t faint.”

“No, let it go. Make us some more drinks while I get dressed.”

He swung off the bed. As he stood up he felt a swirl of vertigo, but it passed at once. Adele, a tidy girl, straightened up the bed before going into the other room.

In the bathroom, working by touch, Shayne disinfected his head wound without starting it bleeding again. He didn’t bother with a bandage. With the help of more cognac, he could function and the wound would have to take care of itself.

Adele had combed her hair and repaired her makeup. She held out a glass.

“When I think that two hours ago you were only a name in the newspapers-”

“It was pleasant,” Shayne said shortly, “but now let’s get back to the main subject. Your uncle said the left-wing groups are preparing some kind of action for tomorrow.”

“Which left-wing groups? That covers a lot of ground.”

He sat down at one end of the big sofa. “Not that I want a lecture, but how many organizations are there, say, to the left of your uncle’s?”

“Only about four dozen.” She turned toward him, bringing up one knee. “Maybe not that many, but lots. It only takes three Latin Americans to make a political party. They keep arguing and splintering. I know there’s been talk that the students from the university are going to show up tomorrow, but it’s Vega’s people I’m worried about. They carry pistols to demonstrations.”

“Have you heard about somebody named Gil Ruiz?”

She looked surprised. “Of course. I thought he was famous. But he’s not here, for heaven’s sake. He’s off fighting in the jungle.” She stopped. “Isn’t he?”

“I don’t know a damn thing about it, as I keep telling people. What’s his main thing right now?”

“That’s easy-he’s organizing the guerrilla movement against Colonel Caldera. It’s still in the early stages. The only guns and ammunition they have is what they’ve been able to capture. But it’s growing. One of these days you may read about it in the Miami News.”