Brett Halliday - Violence Is Golden

“They not only have to find the ocean, they have to get mats and suntan oil and umbrellas and refreshments. Well-I can be five minutes late. Perhaps one more drink.” Shayne uncapped the flask and poured. She continued to watch him closely. He needed an instant alone to plant the transmitter.

“Go ahead and get ready. Leave the door open and we can go on talking.”

“I’m ready now. I’ve got my bathing suit on. You said you wanted a hundred thousand dollars. How firm is that figure? I think it’s way high-you wouldn’t be taking any of the risks.”

“Honey, if they connect me with that kind of payoff, I can kiss my license goodbye. I think one hundred just about fits. I didn’t say I had to have it this minute. I don’t think you have the authority to make that big a payment yourself.”

“To put it mildly.”

“OK. I’ll back off for now and let you make the arrangements. I’ll keep in touch with you through the day, but I won’t be looking over your shoulder every minute. Let’s make tomorrow morning the deadline. From the minute we land in Venezuela, I’m going to move in with you. Tell George not to be jealous. It’s business. If you try anything foolish, I’ll shoot you.”

“Now the melodrama. I was waiting for it.”

“Yeah. And there’s a distinction I want to make. I’ll kill you if I’m sure you’re trying to double-cross me. I can get away with that, and you’d better believe me. But if I’m not sure, I’ll just put a slug in your knee.” He tapped her bare knee with one fingertip. “There are some delicate connections in there, and a thirty-eight caliber bullet can do a hell of a lot of damage. So don’t try anything.”

“I imagine you think you’re scaring me.”

“I hope I am. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but the kind of bet I like best is a sure thing.”

She stood up, tightening the belt of her kimono. “I think I understand your proposition. I’ll let you know what we decide.”

Shayne looked up at her, grinning crookedly. He still had the transmitter in his pocket, and he wasn’t that good at sleight of hand.

“Don’t feel you have to pay me off too soon. Sticking to you could be a pleasure. George is just going to have to understand.”

Coming to his feet, he took her by the waist and kissed her. Her breath caught. He tightened his hold, moving his hands on her back, and forced her almost naked body hard against his.

“It’s always better to set up a personal contact.”

She stared up into his eyes, her lips parted. He could see her decide that this was the one way he might prove to be vulnerable. She gave herself orders. Her arms came around his neck and pulled him down.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Mike. Then we can start over from the beginning.”

He turned her gently and they sank together onto the bed. The knot of her kimono opened.

The scraps of red cloth that served her as a bathing suit were quickly unfastened. Dressed, she had seemed a little ordinary, too much of a businesswoman. Undressed, she was altogether different. The back of one hand over her eyes, she waited for him. Shayne slipped the little electronic gadget out of his side pocket, activated the sending switch with a flick of his thumb, and, as he changed position on the bed, pressed it into place beneath the table. Then at last he kissed her. She brought her arm down and touched the back of his neck.

A long moment later he raised his head and said in a softer tone than he had used with her so far, “You don’t really want to do this, do you?”

Her lips moved. Her body arched slightly as she looked into his eyes.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “You’ll find out how much.”

Her eyes closed and her hands moved on his body.

“Mike?” she said questioningly.

She opened her eyes when he didn’t respond. Shayne shook his head slowly.

“Sometime, maybe. Not now. You’re thinking of too many other things. What if your husband walked in? Could you make him understand that the one reason you’re letting this happen is so you can make a better deal with me tomorrow?”

Her tongue appeared briefly. “That’s why it started. It changed.” Raising her head, she kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re not as tough as you pretend, Mike. It wouldn’t actually matter much if George-I don’t know how to tell you. My marriage isn’t quite the same institution they talk about in the women’s magazines. If you want to go on, I will. In a physical way, I know it would be lovely. But it’s probably the wrong time?”

“I think so.”

She took his face in both hands. “Do you think we’ll end up as friends?”

“I don’t know enough about you yet.”

“You’re a mystery to me, too! I should go now, Mike. My poor ladies will be ready to mutiny.”

He separated himself from her, and she retied her bikini. “Come for a swim with us. We might find something else to talk about besides sex and money.”

“I’ve got a few things to take care of.”

“Such as Mary Ocain?”

He laughed. “Such as Mary Ocain. She’s not much of a conspirator yet, but give her time. She’s new at it. She wants to tell me that somebody’s using our DC-8 to smuggle gold. I’ll act surprised and impressed. If she talks to anybody else, it could get serious very fast.”

“What could she do?”

“Notify the wrong people and get the plane impounded. I can stall her, I think. It would help to know how long the stuff is going to be aboard.”

Naomi began running a comb through her long hair. “I’ll check with somebody and see if it’s all right to tell you. I’m honestly a very small cog in this.”

“So you don’t know who’s going to take delivery?”

“I honestly don’t. Leave George to me. I know how to handle him. He gets erratic after a few drinks, and I think I can say, at five minutes to two in the afternoon, that he has had a few drinks.”

She wasn’t looking directly at him, but there was a special urgency in her tone.

“Why not leave him to you?” Shayne said after a moment. “We have a deal.”

“We don’t exactly have a deal.” She kissed him once more. “Not yet. God, I’ve got to hurry. Those women will eat me alive.”

Mary Ocain was waiting. Shayne, looking through the front window of Cranshaw’s Ice Cream Parlor, could see the top of her head in one of the back booths. To attract mainland tourists, the store was a self-conscious replica of the kind of small-town ice-cream parlor that hasn’t existed in American small towns for years. Marble-topped tables were surrounded by wire-backed chairs. The air-conditioning unit was assisted by a slow-moving overhead fan.

Heads turned as Shayne entered. It was dim and cool.

He joined the schoolteacher, who was working her way through a chocolate sundae, topped with whipped cream and a candied cherry. She looked pointedly at her watch.

“Fifteen minutes late. I expected you to be more prompt.”

“I was in the middle of something. Do they have anything here besides ice cream?”

“Soft drinks. Hot chocolate. I know you’d rather be in the pub down the street, but it’s safer here. Try a sundae. They’re delicious.”

Shayne ordered plain ice cream and lit a cigarette. Mary gave an odd little bounce.

“Don’t half the people on our plane remind you of actors in an Alfred Hitchcock movie? Maybe not. You’ve never been on this kind of a tour before, and don’t tell me otherwise because it’s all so obvious. People don’t carry guns on tours. They don’t take along gaudy blondes with great protruding bosoms and too much eyeliner.”

He looked at her more closely. Very little daylight penetrated this far into the store, but he thought he saw a slightly different glitter in her eye. She was wearing bright makeup. She had changed into a white linen dress that left her freckled shoulders bare.