Brett Halliday - Murder Takes No Holiday

“Mike,” he said as Shayne opened the door for the girl. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I knew you’d appreciate it,” Shayne said. “She’s going along to show us the way. I also want her where I can keep my eye on her.”

“That shouldn’t be at all difficult,” the Englishman said cordially.

She gave him an interested look, shooting from behind the eyelashes as she had done with Shayne. The redhead got in back; she stayed in front so she could call the turns. Powys, sitting sideways in the driver’s seat, seemed in no hurry to get underway.

“I enjoyed your performance,” he said to the girl. “Frightfully good, really. When you were doing those convolutions to the drum, the thought crossed my mind how jolly nice it would be to go backstage and make your acquaintance. Then I thought to myself, ‘Impossible, old boy. Can’t be done. Girl like that must have scads of admirers. Probably a jealous husband somewhere in the background.’”

He beamed at her. Shayne said brusquely, “His name is Cecil Powys. He claims to be working for a degree at Oxford, but don’t ask him what he’s really up to because he won’t tell you. Now let’s get going.”

“Oh, come now,” Powys said mildly, looking around. “It’s not all that bad. I say-where did you get that awful hat?”

“You mean you just noticed it?”

Shayne laughed and put the hat on the seat beside him. Powys started the motor, swinging around the block to keep from passing the nightclub’s front entrance. Soon, following the girl’s directions, they were out of town tooling along the coast road at the little car’s top speed. Occasionally Powys turned his head to smile appreciatively at the girl beside him. She was a girl who liked to be appreciated. She slid closer until their shoulders touched.

“Now to the left,” she said after a time.

They started inland. Shayne leaned forward.

“I keep thinking of more things I want to ask you. When Martha was going out of town and Paul wanted to make a date with you, didn’t he have some way of sending you a message so it wouldn’t mean anything to anybody else? Wouldn’t it be a good idea, for instance, to tear the radio program out of a paper and-”

She swung around, and Shayne said, “That’s right. I looked through your bag. I didn’t have anything else to occupy my time. Those were from Paul?”

She hesitated. “I see no reason not to tell you. Yes.”

“You’ve been with him a lot lately. By this time you probably know most of his secrets. The customs people think he fooled them on his last trip. Do you know how he did it?”

Powys, his pipe clenched between his teeth, was holding the steering wheel lightly, intent on the road. His grip seemed to tighten, and Shayne felt a sharpening of attention.

Vivienne said carelessly, “I do not concern myself.”

Shayne made a rude noise. “The hell you don’t, baby. It wouldn’t surprise me if even Alvarez doesn’t know exactly how he works. But I’d be damn surprised if you don’t.”

She smiled in the faint light. “But you know, all this trouble may bring him together with his wife again. And if that happens, I might want to talk to the American officials in person. They pay well for such information, I am told.”

“Now that’s the spirit I like to see,” Powys said.

When she looked at him to see if he was joking, he winked at her broadly. Shayne sat back.

“Now you must go more slowly,” Vivienne said soon afterward, peering at the road ahead. “It is not far away.”

Powys cut his speed while the girl watched for landmarks. They passed several large plantations, and went on climbing. They left a small sleeping village behind. In the end, though they were all watching for the turn, they missed it. Powys had to stop and back. It was a small sign: “R. Smith,” with an arrow pointed up a gravel road. At a quiet word from the girl, Powys cut his lights. He waited briefly until his eyes came into the new focus, then ground forward slowly in second. The dark vegetation on each side made the road easy to follow.

“Not far,” the girl said.

Soon Shayne made out a massive stone wall on their left, about as high as a professional basketball center taking a rebound.

“I remember something,” Vivienne said suddenly. “Wait. When the gate opens, a bell rings at the house.”

“Easy enough,” Powys said. “We go over the wall, eh, Mike?”

He spotted a break in the vegetation. Coming to a halt, he got out to try the ground. Satisfied, he returned to the Morris, cut the wheels sharply and backed off the road as far as he could, stopping only when the rear wheels began to spin. He killed the motor and set the emergency. All three then set to work breaking branches to conceal the little car.

“What do you think about our mademoiselle?” Powys said. “Can we count on her not to drive away and leave us?”

“Sure,” Shayne replied with a grin. “I convinced her. And just to be on the safe side, let’s take the keys.”

“You don’t mean you are going to leave me here in the jungle!” she exclaimed. “All by myself?”

“We’ll be back.”

“Michael!” she said pleadingly. “You don’t know what you are saying. There are wild animals.”

“If I worried about anybody,” Shayne said, “I’d be worrying about the animals.”

“It is nothing to joke about!”

Powys laughed, but then said seriously, “No, you’re right. Get in the car and run up the windows. Then even the snakes can’t get in.”

“Snakes!” she said in horror. “You, you-you-”

He held the branches aside for her. After she was in the car, he let them fall back in place. “All right?”

Her voice seemed small and far away. “But for the love of God, hurry.”

“All the same,” he said in a low voice to Shayne, “this may not be so simple. I don’t suppose you have a gun?”

“They have enough guns to go around,” Shayne said.

“Expect you’re right,” Powys said doubtfully as they crossed the road. “I’ll give you a leg up. Mind there’s no broken glass on the top.”

He backed up against the stone wall and made a foothold with his hands. “I had Commando training, actually. Never thought it would come in handy. Just keep your foot out of my face, will you?”

Shayne put his toe on the Englishman’s hands and sprang upward. He swept his hand across the top of the wall without meeting any obstacles, and came back to the ground.

“No glass, at least.”

Powys flexed his fingers. “Next time I’m going to pick somebody who weighs less. Here we go.”

Shayne gripped the Englishman’s shoulders, placed his foot, and went up onto the wall in one smooth flow of motion. He swung his legs up and reached down for Powys’ hand. The Englishman backed away a few steps, threw himself toward the wall and seized Shayne’s hand.

The redhead felt a stab go through his chest, as though a sliver of glass was being driven between his ribs. He held on and pulled, and Powys came up the wall. For an instant, until he threw his free arm over the top, his full weight seemed to bear on the break in Shayne’s ribs. He scrambled up beside Shayne, and the two men dropped to the ground together. Shayne had to prop himself against the solid bulk of the wall or he would have fallen. His lips were drawn back as he fought the pain.

“Anything wrong, Mike?” Powys said.

Shayne grunted and pushed off from the wall. He saw the lighted house ahead, several hundred yards away, but instead of heading for it directly, across uncertain ground, they followed the wall to the gate. Then they went up the drive, single file on the turf at the edge of the gravel.

The house was lit up like a beacon. It was all on one level, of brick and glass. On the far side, the ground dropped away steeply, and in daylight there was probably a fine view across the mountains from the flagstone terrace. The rooms were like separate stage sets, each flooded with light. A man’s figure crossed in front of one of the windows, and Shayne instinctively crouched, although he knew they couldn’t be seen. The drive curved on around the house, ending at a three-car garage. One of the cars Shayne had seen at the Half Moon had been run into the garage, but the overhead door had not been closed. The second car was parked outside on the gravel. A cab, probably the one that had brought Paul Slater from the airport, was standing at the front steps.