Brett Halliday - Six Seconds to Kill

“Right now the sides are pretty scrambled. Things have been happening in other parts of town. Crowther’s been assassinated.”

She came all the way around. “Who did it?”

“A lady named Camilla Steele. Her husband was executed for murder a few years ago. He was innocent, it turned out. Crowther prosecuted the case.”

Adele breathed deeply. “Then it had nothing to do with us.”

Shayne made a rude noise. “There were five hundred armed paratroopers at the airport, and the minute they were ordered into the city, you people moved. That was a careful operation. Of course there’s a connection.”

“Mike-no! We didn’t know about those soldiers till late last night. It made everything more risky, but Gil decided to go ahead. Careful-it certainly was careful. Some of our men had warehouse jobs. Two others were part-time guards. Gil and the rest drifted down two or three at a time. The guns were under a platform. The guards didn’t have a chance. Even if we’d had to do any shooting you wouldn’t have heard it, because that’s when the kids ran out on the field with the paint. The soldiers were there all the time!”

“It wasn’t arranged on your level, Adele. Ruiz arranged it. I can’t ask him how he did it, because he’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Don’t blame me-I didn’t do it. But I hope I’m going to get some of the credit, because it might not have happened if I hadn’t tossed those Coke bottles out of the helicopter.”

“Gil Ruiz is dead?”

“It happens, baby. When you take over an airport and hijack two planes and a shipment of rifles, there’s an outside chance that somebody’s going to get hurt.”

She put her fingertips to her forehead. She swayed forward. Shayne caught her before she hit her head against the steering wheel. He uncapped his flask of cognac and held it out.

“Drink some of this. I don’t want you to faint again. I don’t have the time.”

She swallowed some cognac, coughed and drank again.

“Let’s assume the plane got through,” he said. “Cuba’s only a couple of hundred miles away, and the air force isn’t as efficient in real life as it is in the movies. You lost your commander and at least one man, maybe more. I didn’t stick around to get the complete casualty list. But on balance, it was a great success. Adele, are you with me? The political effect could be terrific. But not if your band of heroic revolutionaries assassinated an American cabinet member to pull the paratroopers away from the airport. That’s dirty football.”

“We don’t believe in assassination. Read Gil’s books.”

“Nobody on the jury is going to read any books. I mean the jury that’s going to decide whether you get five years for armed robbery or thirty years for conspiracy to commit murder.”

“Thirty years?”

“You committed a few crimes this morning, haven’t you realized that? But I seem to be in a worse jam than you are. Crowther and I weren’t exactly friends. I won’t explain the whole thing, but the way it looks, the killer and I had a joint contract. The top Secret Service man on the scene was about to shoot her, and I slugged him and took his gun. I’ve still got it.”

“It’s a trick. Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have any choice, Adele.”

He opened the radio antenna to its full length and slid it out the window. After cutting back the insulation on both sides of the break, he spliced the wires. Then he tied the lead-in wire into the Chevy’s ignition system and signaled his operator.

She came on promptly.

“Mr. Shayne, what’s happening? No, don’t tell me. I probably shouldn’t know. Some police officer-Peter Painter, can that be right-wants me to call him the instant you get in touch with me.”

“Are you going to?”

“Not if you say I shouldn’t. I didn’t like the way he sounded. He’s certainly no diplomat, is he?”

“Did you make those calls?”

“I did, Mr. Shayne, but I don’t think they believed me. Mr. Berger especially. He was really abusive! I have a number for Tim Rourke, if you want to talk to him.”

“Yeah, get him for me.”

While she dialed, Shayne told Adele, “Slide over. I want you to hear this. Of course I might have set it up just for you, but I’ve been pretty busy the last fifteen minutes.”

Rourke’s voice said cautiously, “Hold on a minute till I take care of something.” Shayne heard a muffled conversation and the sound of a closing door. When Rourke came back he said, “Where are you?”

“In Miami,” Shayne said.

“Then maybe you better get out of Miami. If there’s a rocket leaving for some other planet, see if you can thumb a ride. All I have to say is, Je-sus Christ!”

“I agree with you, Tim.”

He had the phone in his left hand, tipping it so some of the sound would spill out. Adele’s cheek was against his hand.

“This is insane, Mike! I’m in Room Seven-oh-three. Ditch that car and get to another phone. Every cop in town is watching for your Buick.”

“I’ve already ditched it. I pulled the phone and took it with me.”

“Mike, you’re being a little too cool. Use your imagination. Crowther died on the floor with Berger on top of him. Shot in the neck and the head. All three cameras caught the action, including that right hook you hung on Berger. Everybody’s feeling very, very jittery. When you walk in, don’t be too hard-nosed, because those trigger fingers are going to be itching. Damn it, I can’t think straight. This has got to be handled. I think if I set up a meeting somewhere with you and Will Gentry, just you and Will-”

“Not now, Tim. Has Camilla been picked up yet?”

“No. She took the elevator to the basement and went out the service entrance. The idea is that somebody was waiting for her in a car. She dropped the gun in the elevator. A Stehyr, a Czech automatic, seven millimeter, which means it takes a twenty-five caliber bullet.”

Shayne thought for a moment. Adele put her fingers into the palm of his hand.

Rourke went on earnestly, “Mike, you’ve got to believe me. This is one time you can’t get away with your usual tactics. It isn’t just a couple of jerks like Painter. The FBI is swarming! The longer you stay out there the worse it’s going to be. You absolutely can’t hold out against this kind of pressure.”

“It seems to me I’ve got to.”

“No, Mike. We’ll think of a way you can surrender without getting yourself shot. Let the dust settle. In a couple of days, after everybody calms down-”

“You aren’t usually this hysterical,” Shayne commented. “Has something else happened I don’t know about?”

“They found out about the tickets.”

“What tickets?”

“Her badge had the name Doris Myerson. On the seating plan, Mrs. Myerson had the seat next to Mr. Michael Shayne.”

Shayne snorted. “Anybody can order tickets by mail. You don’t think I actually worked this all out with Camilla, do you?”

“If you mean did you know she was going to shoot him, hell, no. I just think it’s one time when somebody beat you by a step.”

“Who?”

“Camilla, Crowther, Ruiz-how do I know? I’ll tell you my personal theory, and it’s the mildest version going around, believe me. I think you agreed to get her into the ballroom so she could jump up when Crowther started his speech and yell ‘Murderer!’ or something. And she crossed you. But everybody else thinks you slowed Crowther down so she could shoot him, and then when Berger got his gun out faster than you expected, you lost your cool.”

“How does that explain the bullet holes?”

“Well, Mike,” Rourke said slowly, “you have to admit there’s something funny about those bullet holes. They’re in the wrong place, to begin with. I showed them to Berger. He’s not exactly open-minded on the subject of Mike Shayne. His top-of-the-head reaction was that you put them there yourself, so you could claim you thought she’d be shooting blanks, if you follow me.”