Бретт Холлидей - Count Backwards to Zero

“About terms,” she said.

“There aren’t going to be any. If the only way you can get hold of this tank is by shooting me, I know you’ll do it. But not yet. You still need me. And you need everything to break the right way. If that doesn’t happen, you’ll settle for keeping it away from Diamond. That gives us both room to maneuver — not much, but some. The FBI’s are beginning to gather. They always complicate things. I don’t mind explaining it to them later, but not while it’s going on. What about Sam Geller? Can we count him out?”

“For now,” she said quietly. “He and Diamond really hate each other.”

“How many others do you have available?”

“Just three, really. I don’t understand why you’re letting me keep the gun. You don’t really trust me that much.”

“I’ll explain it to you sometime.”

“I think you want us to cut each other down to where you can handle us. That’s why you dumped Sam out of the car.”

“You’re the one who did that. All I did was open the door.”

“Mike!” she burst out. “I don’t know what this is for you! A contest, a way to make some money? You’ve been made to look like a fool, and so somebody else has to suffer. It isn’t a game for me, Mike. If our enemies get hold of this bomb, we’re finished. It’s such a tiny blob on the map, Israel! Sixteen miles across at the narrowest point. A bomb dropped on Tel Aviv would knock out the country. Whereas if we have it, if they know we have it, they may give up their crazy dreams about driving us into the sea, and come to the bargaining table.”

Shayne’s attention shifted.

A black Ford sedan, with plates identifying it as a rented car, had drawn up in front of the Flamingo Springs. The driver tapped his horn twice.

“This could be Pierre Dessau,” Shayne said. “He went for cigarettes an hour ago and didn’t come back.”

“Was that who she was talking to?”

“No, no. Dessau’s the buyer. She’s a bright, observant girl. She noticed that her father was making some major repairs on his Bentley before he left, and I think she figured out the whole thing. If that car turns around, get ready to duck.”

He was watching the stairs to the second floor of the two-level motel. A girl’s slight figure came out of one of the rooms, ran down the stairs and across to the Ford. As soon as she jumped in, the Ford backed out and reversed.

“Down,” Shayne said.

Anne dropped out of sight. Shayne lowered his head so it wouldn’t show in silhouette. The rented Ford came past. The man leaning forward over the wheel was unmistakably the six-foot-four-inch Dessau.

Shayne cramped the Buick’s wheels sharply as the light changed. He left the gas station by the side entrance and made the left turn onto Biscayne through the green light. Dessau, ahead, was driving carefully with the moving traffic, and he was easy to follow.

“Better start rounding up your people,” Shayne said. “You must have a number you can call.”

“I do, but I’ll use a pay phone, if you don’t mind. You already know far too much about us.”

He was separated from Dessau’s Ford by two cars, and the lights on this section of the boulevard were unprogrammed, changing at random. He gave the girl a quiet instruction and she reached over in back for a battered fishing hat. With the brim pulled low over his eyes, he passed the intervening cars and closed with the Ford.

“I thought that was where they were probably going,” he said after a moment as the Ford slowed. “Good old Queen Elizabeth II.”

“Mike, tell me what she’s doing! She’s going to sell it to Dessau? How did she get it out of the Oldsmobile?”

“She has a friend aboard. I think we may see him in a minute.”

The Ford parked. Shayne, half a block away, pulled into a crosswalk and quickly produced a small camera with a high-definition telephoto lens. A youth with long browning hair parted in the middle crossed from the pier. Shayne broke the camera open and loaded it with fast film.

“There’s a phone on the other side of the street,” he said. “Don’t cross here. Go back a block. Their asking price is a hundred thousand. Not pounds, probably, but dollars. If you can double that you’ll be safe.”

“You know I can’t get hold of that much money without Sam,” she said sharply. “We’ll have to take it away from them.”

“Take your time. I won’t leave without you.”

“I wish I could be sure of that. In fact, I think I’ll make sure.”

She picked the key out of the ignition and walked away briskly. The youth, his hands in his pockets, was leaning down to talk to Dessau. When he straightened, his face caught the light from a streetlamp and Shayne took his picture.

Shayne picked up his phone, and when the operator came on he said, “You were ringing me.”

“Yes — a man at the Opa-Locka Airport, Mr. Buzz Yale. Can you talk to him?”

“Yeah, get him for me.”

Dessau came out of the Ford and Shayne made a picture of the two men walking together to the pier.

“Mike, that airplane you wanted?” Buzz Yale said in another moment.

“Give it to me.”

“It’s a Lear Jet-Star on private charter. The times check. They filed a flight plan to Bogota, and then the client was called away at the last minute. It’s still on call.”

“That’s the one. How many in the crew?”

“Pilot and co-pilot. The client’s a woman — I thought you might be asking. I can get her name, but probably not without calling some attention to myself.”

“I already know it. Where’s the plane now? I want exact directions.”

“Outside Hangar Two. That’s in the General Aviation area inside the canal at the north edge of the field. Coming along the service road, it’s the second building on the right — the service road paralleling the main east-west runway.”

“All this is fine, Buzz. Can you stay near the phone? I think there may be some activity out there soon.”

“I won’t mind. It’s been a dull evening.”

“Not for me,” Shayne said.

Anne rejoined him, having taken the same roundabout route back.

“Their car’s still there,” she said anxiously. “Did anything happen?”

“Dessau and the boy went on board. Cecily’s waiting.”

She looked at her watch. “Mike, that tank is heavy, isn’t it? Too heavy for one man?”

“I’d say three or four hundred pounds. I had to jack it out.”

She sat forward suddenly. A large rubbish container was being hoisted over the Queen Elizabeth’s side. While it was being lowered into a five-ton haulaway truck, Shayne used his telescopic view finder to watch the crew gangway aft.

Presently Dessau and the youth appeared. The youth climbed into the truck cab beside the driver, and Dessau came out to the Ford.

Anne was looking around nervously, watching approaching cars.

“They couldn’t possibly be here this soon. Mike, you’ll have to help me.”

“Don’t count on me,” Shayne said. “I’m planning to umpire.” He held out his hand. “The key, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, God.”

She found it in her bag and gave it to him.

They had scouted the spot in advance.

They were still a half mile from the incinerator, with the Florida East Coast tracks on one side, a line of warehouses on the other. Suddenly Dessau, in the black rented Ford, pulled past the truck and cut in too sharply, his directional signals going. The legend on the back of the truck said: “Stay alert, stay alive.” Its brake lights flared.

The truck cut its speed sharply to avert a collision. Dessau slowed gradually, keeping to the middle of the road and giving the truck behind him no room to pass.