Brett Halliday - Violence Is Golden

“You mean it’s in somebody else’s bank account?”

“Yes, that’s just what I mean. It would almost certainly have to be someone quite high up in his own organization. I understand LeFevre was about to retire. French police pensions are notoriously inadequate. He knew the ins and outs of the operation-”

Shayne interrupted. “Are you guessing here, Ward, or do you know something?”

“Guessing, of course. With Adam, that’s all any of us can ever do. But it’s a guess that seems to fit the facts. If it was LeFevre, he’d be careful. He had an excellent motive for carefulness. If Adam found out about it, he wouldn’t live very long.”

“He didn’t live very long,” Shayne pointed out

“True.” Ward pondered for a moment. “If I’d been doing it, I would have duplicated the shipping crates, filling the dummy crates with lead, which has roughly the weight and density of gold. The substitution could be made at any point after the gold left the vaults. And what if one of the substitute crates contained a time bomb powerful enough to blow the dhow out of the water? There would be confusion about what had happened, a chance that the theft had taken place at sea. Or perhaps the crew had been bribed to sail to the wrong place and scuttle the boat after unloading. They couldn’t count on the storm. That was a piece of luck. If Adam accepted bad weather as an explanation, or if he seemed to accept it, the thieves might be tempted to hang around and possibly try again.”

Shayne was scraping his chin, checking this new view of LeFevre against the man as he had seemed in the Miami Beach hotel room.

“Not that any of this is conclusive,” Ward went on, “but there’s a way we can find out. Adam wouldn’t be on the scene himself unless he thought he could expose the traitors and perhaps locate the missing million and a half. We can stand aside and let them cut up each other, then step in and arrest anyone who’s left. Hold on a minute. What if they didn’t grab Mary Ocain because she’s a threat to them, but to decoy you out of the hotel and make sure you wouldn’t be on the plane tomorrow? Let’s fool them. Don’t go back to the hotel. Get on the plane early and hide in the men’s room. My cover’s intact. We can give George to the St. Albans cops and have them take care of him until we’re ready to come back for him. We can stay on top of the situation all the way.”

“What if somebody wants to use the men’s room?”

Ward laughed. “There has to be some place to hide on a plane.”

Shayne said abruptly, “Are you carrying credentials?”

Ward stopped laughing. He produced a worn leather folder, which Shayne examined carefully before handing it back.

“Do you have any authority to talk about money?”

“You know I don’t, Mike. I can make a recommendation, and in view of the facts, I’m fairly sure they’ll accept it.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Mike, I don’t understand. I was told there was some kind of personal thing between you and Adam-”

“There is. I also want the full tenth. When you talk to Washington, tell them that.”

“I can tell them,” Ward said doubtfully. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do. I take it you don’t think much of my men’s-room idea. What do you suggest instead?”

“I think we ought to stop the tour right here. Put armed guards on the plane. Then work backward from George. The Mary Ocain kidnapping gives us a handle. That’s a bad rap down here-he’ll talk.”

“But I really wonder how much he knows. You’re right-that would be one way to do it. I wouldn’t have said it was your way.”

“Four people have died so far,” Shayne said. “I want Adam as much as you do, but this whole thing has the wrong smell. We squeaked through tonight. But barely, Ward. If George hadn’t been throwing up, we wouldn’t have made it. Somebody’s pulling the strings, and before I go any farther, I want to find out who.”

Ward gave him a straight, measuring look. “You can’t hold the plane unless I’m willing to bring the Consulate in on it. You have no official status. Not only that. You’re wanted for questioning about a Miami Beach murder, and the local people have probably had a notification on that by now. Only one thing will happen-you’ll miss the plane yourself. I intend to go ahead in any case, with you or without you. I’d like my forty-five back.”

Shayne pulled the gun out of his waistband and handed it to him.

“I don’t know what’s bothering you,” Ward said. “Adam’s clever, I grant you. There’s a division of opinion on the subject in the Unit, but I’m one of those who believe he may be one of the cleverest operators around. The man fascinates me, and I know I probably think about him far too much. But how can there be one single intelligence behind everything that’s happened so far, Mike? The attack on you at the Miami stadium, LeFevre’s murder, the smuggling, that abortive business at the casino, the kidnapping-it’s too much. How are you going to get any of it explained by calling a time-out at this stage?”

“It would work if you backed me up,” Shayne insisted stubbornly.

“I’m going for the big prize,” Ward snapped. “I don’t want to settle for George Savage and a few other small fry. It wouldn’t satisfy me. Stay or go. It’s up to you.”

Shayne hesitated, then said slowly, “What the hell. I remember hearing about a stowaway who jammed himself into the tail cone of a DC-8. I don’t know how big it is.”

“Good, Mike,” Ward said briskly. “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who’d want to play things safe.”

Back in St. Albans, Shayne let Ward dispose of George Savage while he made a phone call.

Christa answered in their room.

“Mike! I’ve been worried half to death! Are you all right?”

“I’ve had better moments.”

“Mary Ocain called. She sounded almost hysterical. Drunk, possibly. She’s had some sort of an adventure, and she wanted to tell you she took care of it all by herself. Finally she got some good out of all her aikido lessons, whatever that means.”

“I know what it means. How about Tim Rourke?”

“He’s right here. And Mike, why didn’t you tell me? He’s a very sweet man.”

“So I’ve been told,” Shayne said drily. “Put him on.”

“Darling, will you be back soon?”

“I don’t know yet.”

A moment later Rourke was on the phone.

“Mike, if you want to know why I’m always so willing to help out, it’s because of the grade of woman you attract. I never seem to meet chicks like this except when I’m traveling with you. But one thing bothers me. What are we going to do about the sleeping arrangements?”

Shayne heard Christa’s low giggle. He grinned.

“I’ve got a couple of errands for you, Tim. You may not get much sleep. I’ve been pounded around a bit and my watch has stopped. What time do you have?”

“Four minutes to two.”

Shayne shook his watch to get it started and adjusted the hands. Ward came out of the police station and approached the booth. Shayne opened the door.

“Wait in the car, OK?”

Ward shrugged and went to the Checker. Shayne returned to Rourke.

“What’s the news from Miami?”

“Petey Painter’s very excited, but you knew that. His mustache keeps jerking. I wouldn’t be surprised if it flies off before morning. He knows you’re somewhere in Latin America, but he still isn’t sure where. He had a couple of boys tailing me, on the theory that I know more than I told him, but I left them watching a floor show while I went out through the kitchen.”

Becoming serious, he began ticking off points Shayne had asked him to check, displaying the precision and economy that made him such a good reporter.