Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

I sat on the end of the lounge quickly and handed her a can. “Have a cold one.”

A smile danced around her mouth as she took it. “I didn’t think you could be affected like that.”

“When I marry I sure can pick them,” I said. “Sorry, but you surprised me.” I tasted the beer, licked my lips and let my eyes roam over her again. “You have a hell of a shape, baby.”

“So I’ve been told. At times it’s useful to disconcert somebody.”

“I’m disconcerted. You did a magnificent job.”

The little smile drifted away then. “Don’t take it to heart. It’s only a temporary arrangement.”

I couldn’t let her get away with it. I let my mouth twist in a nasty grin and said, “Only if I want it that way. Don’t forget it.”

The way her stomach sucked in a fraction said she got the message but she pretended to ignore it with, “Did you make your contact?”

I nodded.

“Can you tell me now?”

I finished the can of beer and tossed the empty in a wire basket behind me. “Tomorrow we charter a fishing boat that leaves from a private docking area. At noon we’ll be out about twelve miles; Art Keefer will pick up up in a seaplane, fly us offshore a mile from our destination where we’ll be met by another boat and taken in. After that we’ll play it by ear.”

“Is this… the usual arrangement?”

“The pattern varies,” I said. I let out a small laugh. “After all, people like us don’t like being nailed by the cops. It’s a way of life.”

“A stupid way.”

“Maybe for you, kid. It’s hard to explain. I’m assuming you’re smart enough not to try to bust any of these people. Not that you can. They’re clever enough to keep themselves covered.”

“My orders read that way,” she said. “We’re not interested in the little people.”

“Kid, you got a lot to learn,” I told her. “My friend is doing us a favor. Taking us in will be easy. He’s putting his neck on the line getting us out.”

“No he isn’t.”

I turned slowly and looked at her. She focused her eyes on my face and said, “The return trip will be under our direction. You see, we’re not taking any chances on losing you along the line.”

“You’re crazy, sugar. What makes you think I won’t cut out anytime?”

“Because you’re made like that. Now you’re having fun.”

“I’ve changed my mind before.”

“That’s why I’m wearing the bikini,” she said. “At least it will keep you thinking of other things. Not that it will do you any good,” she added.

My grin got nice and tight this time. “Why does the female have the unholy idea she can conquer the male?”

“Can’t she?” There was the slightest haughty tone to her voice.

“Only some,” I said. “Only some, baby.”

Then Art Keefer came up and rescued us both from the conversation. He was a big, rangy guy with corded forearms and hair bleached almost white from the sun, skin like tanned leather and bright green eyes that had looked on the world and thrown it away. He had the indelible stamp of the adventurer, a perpetual cynical twist to his mouth, scars from a dozen battles etched into the lines of his face.

His reaction to Kim was almost the same as mine, the sudden appreciation but tempered with regret because right now she belonged to me. I hadn’t seen him for seven years, but nobody would have known it. He threw me a wink and said, “Hello, jailbird.”

“They didn’t keep me long enough to rate the compliment, Art.”

“Somebody should have clued them in. How’d you do it?”

“Rubber bars,” I laughed. “Meet Kim Stacy… or rather, Mrs. Morgan.”

“My pleasure,” he said.

Kim held out her hand and he took it, but the introduction was one of two animals sizing each other up. When he stepped back he looked at me quickly and I got his meaning. I said, “It’s a clean deal, Art. No repercussions.”

“You’re nuts, buddy. There are other ways.”

“I like it this way.”

“Sure, you always did. But then, you always were nuts too.”

“Everything ready?”

Art said softly. “Six A.M. at Raymond’s. Travel light. I want as much fuel aboard as I can carry. How much does she know?”

“The works.”

“There’s something else. You’re expected. Vince got the word an hour ago and sent it out on shortwave. Who planted it?”

Kim said matter-of factly, “We did.”

Art looked at me, his eyes curious now. “That okay with you?”

“They had to expedite matters.”

“You’re going to have plenty of company, then. Right now their regime is damn rocky and with that loot they think they can extract from you they can get back on their feet. They’re going to want to expedite matters too. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

I glanced at Kim and laughed. “The hell you wouldn’t.” Art grinned and shrugged. “I don’t know how you always get the best end of the deal.”

“Pure good luck,” I said. “All the other details standard or have things changed?”

“Four points up on the old wavelength and use the same Kissler code. They still haven’t broken that one. Somebody will be monitoring around the clock and if you need a contact, try the one at the Orino Bar who’ll sing our old song as a recognition gimmick.”

“Any heavies in the act?”

“Watch out for one called Russo Sabin. He’s a hatchet man for Carlos Ortega who’s about to take the power away from the present government. He has civilian and military personnel behind him and we know damn well he’s been buttering up to the Commies, who will jump right in and back him if he wins this political battle. All Ortega needs is a few million to grease the right palms and we’re going to have another Cuba on our hands.”

“How does it look?”

“Right now, all in his favor. You’re going to be a welcome addition to his program.” Art paused and looked at the both of us a second. “Any interagency cooperation here?”

“Why?”

“The Navy and the Border Patrol are pretty damn tight, old buddy.”

“Good. It has to look right. They haven’t been alerted, so it’s all your operation.”

“As long as I know.”

“If we get hit it will be our own fault. Nobody gets off the hook.”

“They haven’t caught me yet,” Art said. We shook hands; he nodded to Kim and stalked away with a fierce stride, disappearing around the corner of the building.

Kim watched him go, then said, “He seems very proficient.”

“He has to be,” I told her.

Something made her look at me sharply. “Who is he?”

“One of the men you said was dead. We were part of that team that operated behind the lines in Germany during the war.”

“But… there was no Keefer…” she started.

I laughed and shook my head. “He was in the Army under a different name then.”

Her eyes looked almost black under the frown. “Then the other three…”

“Oh, two of them are dead, all right.”

She kept studying me and I knew what she was thinking. I shook my head slowly and said. “He wasn’t any part of that forty-million-dollar haul, sugar. Forget it.”

Overhead there was the dull rumble of thunder and the sun slid behind an ominous bank of black clouds. The two kids in the pool came out of the water and scurried into their room. I took the empty can from Kim’s hand, tossed it into the basket and waved my thumb at our door. “Go get dressed. I’ll give you five minutes.”

She uncurled from the lounge, stood up and stretched deliberately, legs spread apart, back arched so that I could see every glorious inch of her undulating in the posture. Then she relaxed and looked at me with a chuckle. “You’d better wait ten,” she said. “There may be people watching. You wouldn’t want them to see you like that, would you?”