Brett Halliday - Six Seconds to Kill

“You’ve helped. I think we’re just about out of the woods. Now think about that hangar last night. Every one of those planes had an airline’s name on it. Pan-Am. Delta. Eastern.”

She frowned. “There was a big crane. The kind of truck the tree-surgeons use, with a long arm and a bucket at the end. I bumped into a gas pump inside the door.”

She was running down. She mumbled something incomprehensible. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. Her pupils had been nearly normal for a time, but they were big again.

“You’re a great girl, Camilla.”

He handed her over to Paul London, who was still in the background, and Dr. Miller took him into a small office on the same floor.

“I think that was good for her,” Miller said. “She’s worn out physically, but I don’t want to let her sleep for another hour.”

“What happens after she wakes up?”

“After she wakes up.” He looked unhappy. “I only hope she does. I think she’ll try to protect herself by forgetting everything she just told us. That may be the last we’ll hear of the man with the flashlight, if he really existed.”

“He existed,” Shayne said briefly. “I want to use the phone.”

Miller left him alone. Shayne punched a button for an outside line, and dialed the St. Albans. Presently Rourke was on the line.

“Back in touch,” Rourke said cheerfully. “Do you realize that certain people around here are beginning to flake?”

“Can you get Abe Berger? I want to talk to him.”

“They’re using the ballroom upstairs as a command post. I’ll send somebody up.” He was away for a moment. “Can you give me some indication of how we stand at the moment, Mike? I personally am taking a certain amount of heat here. I’m not complaining, you’ll notice. I just hope you’ll decide to come in fairly soon.”

“I need some more time, and I need some cooperation from various people.”

“If you think you’re going to get any cooperation out of Berger, lots of luck. That man has himself barely under control-barely. If I’m having trouble giving you the benefit of the doubt, you can imagine what’s going on there. He knows what he saw before you gave him that shot in the jaw.”

“You know how unreliable eyewitnesses always are. What else has been happening?”

“Gil Ruiz was killed at the airport. That’s a positive identification, from fingerprints. Two of his men were wounded. Local people, they didn’t come in with him. The plane got through to Cuba, or we assume that’s where it is. I know you put in an alert, which was clever of you, but we all thought you were trying to fake us out.”

“Any mention of a girl?”

“Any mention of a girl. There was a girl in the group that took over the control tower, but as far as we know she made the plane. If you want to give me any additional news, about her or about anybody else, I’m ready with a pencil.”

“No.”

“I figured as much. You asked for an inventory of what was missing out there. The problem is, how many guns burned and how many-”

“I’m not interested in guns.”

“Well, they also broke into the security area and cleaned out all the high-value, low-bulk cargo. I don’t have a list yet. Some gold bullion and platinum. The guess is about a quarter of a million bucks. Some crazy bastard fire-bombed one of the planes from a helicopter, and they may recover some of it. Gold doesn’t burn.”

“They were mainly after the guns. Anything else would go on the second plane. While you’re sitting around there doing nothing, keep after this for me, will you? Find out who was shipping the gold. If it was a treasury shipment, forget about it. But if it came from a private bank, get the name of their insurance company and find out how much they’re willing to pay on a recovery. Not that they’re likely to recover anything if it got to Cuba. Same with the platinum. As soon as they understand the situation they’ll be glad to cooperate. Get the terms in writing, and tell them to put it in the mail this afternoon.”

Rourke chortled. “My dear fellow, I don’t know why I’ve been worrying about you. You’re going to come out of this covered with roses, as usual.”

Berger’s voice interrupted. “Shayne,” he said through set teeth.

“I hear you’re sore,” Shayne said. “You shouldn’t have pulled that gun, Abe, but I’m willing to forget it if you are. Are you still in charge, or have they relieved you?”

“It’s the same committee, plus the FBI district director. And minus Sparrow-Devlin is back. If you have something you want me to tell them-”

“I can’t make a deal with a committee.”

“No deal, Mike. No deal is possible. Please believe me.”

“I asked for you, Abe, because you have a few more brains and a little more experience than the local people. And you have more to recoup. Your assignment was to protect Crowther, and you didn’t do it very well, did you?”

“We know why.”

“I know why. I don’t think you do yet. Are you assuming I was in on a plot to assassinate your boy?”

“I’m reserving judgment. I know damn well you were in on something! Come in and we’ll talk about it. You can have your lawyer present.”

“Do you want Camilla too?”

Berger said cautiously, “Have you got her?”

“I know where she is. I hope somebody’s given you her medical history. She’s a little unstable, to put it mildly. She attempted suicide a couple of hours ago. Right now she’s full of morphine and counter-morphine and barbiturates on top of alcohol, some kind of amphetamines and God knows what else. She may come out of it and she may not.”

“We’ll see that she gets the best of medical attention. Bring her in.”

“Abe, what’s the matter with you? You’ll get her. You can have custody by ten o’clock tonight. But you may have custody of a corpse, depending on what you decide right now.”

“I want her alive, Mike.”

“Sure. But you would have shot her in the elevator if I hadn’t decked you. Your gun would have gone off by itself. I’m in a position to play God. I can give her to you, and there’s a chance she’ll pull through. And after that, the way things look at the moment, she’s a cinch to be found guilty of first-degree murder. So why should I give her to you? She’s not guilty of first-degree murder. She’s guilty of holding a gun that killed Crowther. Hundreds of people saw her do that. There are going to be some very tricky legal questions. When all the facts are known, you people are going to be combing the books to find what charge to bring against her. In the end you may decide not to bring any.”

“Are you still trying to persuade people that Crowther arranged to have himself shot?”

“Think of some other explanation. That’s the only thing that fits the bullet holes in the wall. How did the bullets check out?”

“They were all fired from the same gun.”

“Yeah-he used an odd caliber to make it easier for you. And harder for her to replace if she noticed hers were blanks, which she wasn’t likely to do. You’re probably thinking I should have called you up last night and told you about those holes in the wall.”

“Why, no,” Berger said ironically. “Why should I think that?”

“If you haven’t worked it out for yourself, here’s why I didn’t. You’d have told Crowther. He’d say, ‘My God, bullet holes in the wall, something funny going on down there and I’d better stay away from Miami after all.’ Camilla would go on falling apart. Sooner or later, the pills would kill her. Crowther would run for the Senate and probably make it. Eight years from now, with that wonderful head of hair, he’d be a good presidential possibility.”