Brett Halliday - Kill All the Young Girls

She touched him and walked off.

The motor of a powerboat sprang to life, and an open-decked motorboat careened into sight between the two anchored ships. Two men were standing in the waist of the boat: one with a rifle, the other with a swivel-mounted searchlight which he pointed straight downward into the water, as though looking for sharks.

Moving from one shadow to the next, Shayne made his way to a spidery construction of aluminum girders supporting a platform for overhead camera shots. He was out in the open for a moment as he went up the ladder. He wriggled to the edge of the platform and shifted the.45 in his belt so he could lie prone. Shielding his eyes against the floodlights, he peered toward the ships.

Turkey Gallagher, the thug who had beaten Mandy Pitt with brass knuckles, had had a further assignment tonight, Shayne remembered. Shayne had been guessing, but Larry Zion had caught on instantly. He was counting on this picture. If something happened to the set or delayed the shooting schedule, it might convince the waverers that the producer had finally and definitely lost his magic.

Men at the rail of the pirate ship were shouting and pointing.

The rifleman in the motorboat fired into the water. His boat heeled over and came about sharply.

It was a clear night, with a half-moon. The powerboat was going around in noisy circles. After a moment, Shayne noticed a second boat, without lights, its engine idling, rocking halfway between the shore and the ships. Light glinted from a rifle barrel.

A golf cart carrying a driver and one other man — it was Larry Zion — passed beneath Shayne and entered a cobblestoned alley leading to the waterfront.

A dog began barking. After checking the perimeter fence, Shayne located a man in a green uniform, wearing a sidearm, being pulled by the barking dog toward the water. A voice carried clearly from the ship. “There’s something. Do you see it?”

The motorboat came about in a long sweep. The rifleman sighted at an object in the water but failed to fire.

Zion’s golf cart came into sight again on the hard sand at the water’s edge. Zion was standing, gesturing like a combat commander. The cart turned toward the fence, stopping there to permit Zion to confer with the guard. While they talked, the dog kept barking and trying to pull away.

A pick-up truck honked for admittance, and the gate opened. Men, presumably armed, jumped out. Zion’s golf cart came up from the water to meet them.

The guard hauled the dog around and made him come back, but the animal continued to argue. Shayne blocked out the bright light with both hands and looked carefully along the water’s edge to see what the dog had been barking at. He saw something dark and solid rolling in the water. It glistened briefly with reflected light; then the lapping waves pulled it under.

Alix came out of a lighted trailer. The golf cart was approaching, but she saw it in time and stood still until it passed. Then she crossed a lighted space and disappeared.

The new men fanned out. Several had flashlights.

Before climbing down, Shayne made another quick reconnaissance of the area beyond the fence. He knew he couldn’t get his own car through the gate without shooting. But unless Larry’s men were firing at imagined targets, someone from the Olson camp was around somewhere; and he hadn’t walked from Miami. Off to the north, Shayne saw a rough woods trail leading from the movie company’s road to the water. A heavier darker shadow at the end was perhaps a parked car.

He looked around once more, then wriggled backward to the ladder.

Back on the ground, he circled the public square, keeping to the shadows. The pattern of streets and alleys made little sense; but having seen it from above, Shayne had a clear idea of how everything connected. He crossed a street of shops and taverns and entered an alley a minute before Zion’s golf cart turned into the alley from the other end.

The headlights caught him. He turned quickly, hearing the motor baying behind him. Coming into the main street at a hard run, he saw two of the new men with flashlights; and he wrenched at the nearest door. It was fixed in the wall. He tried another. It looked real; but it had been built to fool a camera, not to open and let people through.

The two men across the street had separated and had Shayne bracketed. When the golf cart, rocking, burst out of the alley’s mouth, Shayne stepped into the light, his hands out from his body. The cart swerved to a stop.

“What are you doing, Shayne, damn you?” Zion demanded.

“Gunfire makes me nervous,” Shayne said mildly. “I thought you might need some help.”

“Where’s Jackie? Art?”

“Around. Who are you shooting at? Gallagher, I hope.”

He had lowered his hands as he spoke; and now he bent forward, seized the flat running board, and spilled Zion and the driver out on the cobblestones.

He jumped for the alley and was out of sight before his pursuers had time to reorganize. Now that they knew he was loose, he needed a diversion. He circled back to the heavy-equipment park. There was no one around; the interesting things were happening closer to the water.

He chose the biggest bulldozer. Swinging into the driver’s seat, he started it up and lowered the big blade. It came around snorting, and he aimed it at the flimsily built set. He put it in gear and opened the throttle, jumping clear as it started to roll.

He was concealed in an alley when it met its first opposition, an apparent stone wall that was actually made of lath and painted canvas, and tumbled it down.

The hunt turned in that direction. The alley he was in came to a dead end. He came back and went into a tavern. After adjusting to the darkness, he felt his way toward a lighted window. Nearly there, he heard a faint movement. He took a quick sideward step so he wouldn’t be framed by the lighted rectangle.

A figure passed. Shayne lunged. His hands closed on a woman’s breast, and he recognized the perfume.

“Alix.”

She whirled as he released her and sliced at him with some kind of sword. He caught her arm.

“Put it down, baby. People used to get killed with these things.”

“Mike.”

The cutlass fell to the floor, and her arms came around him. “I’m glad to see you, Michael; but how are we going to get out of here?”

“You’ll be all right. Tell him I was trying to use you as a screen, but you got away from me. He’ll believe it. I’m the one who needs help. Have you got that.22?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Here’s some more firepower.” He drew her to a trestle table and laid out his guns: his own.38 and the two others he had taken from Art and Jackie. “I don’t want to be bothered for a couple of minutes. Wait till I get out the window, and then start shooting. But try not to hit anybody, because the casualty list is already long enough. I want them to think a real gun battle is going on in here. Use up the ammunition, and throw the guns as far as you can. Rip your dress and smear some dirt on your face. He’ll give you an Academy Award. Who were you phoning — Oscar?”

“No, not Oscar. I only talked to Oscar once, and he said he already had the information he needed. When I heard that, I called my broker and went short in Consolidated-Famous.” She laughed. “Tomorrow, for each point the stock goes down, I will be ahead by five thousand dollars. Continue the way you’re doing, and I’ll end up a wealthy woman.”

“As a stockholder myself, I’m sorry to hear it. Remember we have a date for a drink tomorrow — if we’re all still breathing. You didn’t tell me who you were calling.”

“I didn’t, did I? And I’m not going to.”

The runaway bulldozer bumped into something that was too solidly built to be knocked down and ground to a halt. Shayne eased out the window into a smaller square with a fountain. He found an outlet on the opposite side, a dirt path that took him to the water.