Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“Morgan.” She said it with a caress and squeezed my hand again. “You have made me a very happy person, Morgan.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to it sooner.”

“You were in time. It was close, but you came just in time.”

“Drink?” I asked.

“Must we here?” The tip of her tongue moistened her lip and her eyes crinkled at me. “I told you I was a pursuer. My suite is amply stocked with all the necessities to see the evening out.”

“No obligations, kid.”

“No obligations, Morgan.” Her hand slid easily under my arm and her fingers eased the glass out of my hand. “Come.”

I put a bill on the bar, grinned at her and walked to the bank of elevators across the lobby. Halfway there a jockey-sized bellboy intercepted us with an apology and said, “Señor Winters, there is a message for you at the desk if you wish to take it.”

I nodded, excused myself for a second and followed the bellboy. The message wasn’t at the desk. It came from his lips that didn’t move at all when he said, “I am Angelo, Señor Morgan-Winters. Max has told me of you. He is the bartender you spoke to earlier. I wish to suggest to you that you be careful with the Señorita Gordot. Señor Russo Sabin has men who have already reported to him and at the moment he is in the patio bar.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

He faked the act by handing me a note that simply stated I was to call my room, took the tip and walked off while I crumpled the paper and went back to Lisa. “Trouble?” she queried.

“A business matter I have to take care of. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

“Room 310, Morgan.”

I pushed the button, waited until the doors opened and ushered her into the elevator. To anyone watching I was simply saying good night to a friend. Then I went back to the bar where I nursed a few drinks through some conversation with the bartender and two tourists.

It didn’t take long to spot the pair who had been detailed to keep me in sight. Even in tuxedos they had a certain military arrogance they couldn’t conceal. When they were certain I wasn’t noticing them, one went to the desk and picked the scrap of paper from the wastebasket I had thrown there, scanned it briefly and threw it back. A wry face and a shrug explained to his buddy that it was of no consequence and I grinned at their reflections in the back-bar mirror.

But there was another one I had picked up even earlier. There was nothing recognizable about him or his actions, as much as I could see. It was his position that bothered me. A potted palm interrupted the planes of his face and general configuration, but from where he stood he could see me plainly enough if he wanted to. Apparently he was watching the players at a roulette wheel, but at the same time, could keep me under surveillance too.

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have bothered me, but my mind kept referring to the one other time tonight my eyes had picked up the same sort of self-camouflaging when I was rolling the hot dice. I had been too busy to catalog the incident then, but now it came back to me.

I watched him covertly, making small talk with the tourist, then saw him turn and walk away, the palm still screening his figure. Hell, I thought, I’m getting spooked by nothing at all. How many others could be standing in positions just as commanding as his?

The tuxedoed pair watched me for another ten minutes, then lost interest until I said so long to everyone and went to the elevator. I gave my floor number to the operator, knowing they’d watch the pointer above the doors or check back with him later. When I got off I headed in the direction of my suite until I heard the elevator doors click shut behind me, then took the stairs down to the third floor and knocked on the panels of 310.

She had made good use of the time. Her hair was fluffed in a carefully touseled way, the blonde highlights a stark contrast to the sheer black nylon negligee that hugged her body with a static crispness. Behind her on the table a bottle of champagne was cooling next to two glasses and the wall radio gave out the soft rhythm of a sensuous Latin tune.

With nothing more than a warm, direct look, she invited me in, then shut and locked the door. “Intimate,” I said.

“It’s supposed to be. Drink?”

“You pour. I want to use your phone.” I picked up the receiver, got Kim on the second ring and told her where I was and if anybody called there looking for me, she was to tell them I was in the shower and would ring them back. Then she was to call me. I didn’t want to explain with Lisa listening, but I didn’t want to take any chances on Sabin checking up on my whereabouts.

When she handed me the champagne, Lisa said, “Is it wise to tell your bride about your… present engagement?”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

“One hears many things in this place, Morgan. A woman can tell a lot of things about other women.”

“I’ve a very understanding wife.”

The champagne was cold and sparkling and I looked at her over my glass. “I hope the same thing can be said about your suitor.”

Her glass stopped midway to her lips. “Oh?”

“Russo Sabin. I hear he considers you his property.”

“So you hear many things too, Morgan.”

“I make it a point when I’m interested in somebody.”

“Then don’t concern yourself with him. Russo Sabin is a… a pig. An animal.” A touch of ice showed in her eyes. “He is difficult to discourage. Impossible. He is the one who…” She stopped there.

“Who what?”

“It is nothing,” she said. I held my glass out and let her fill it again. She knew I was watching her, looked up and smiled ironically. “You probably have heard everything about me.”

“Only in broad outline. I’m still interested.”

“Why?”

“Because Sabin might have something going against me too.”

Lisa put the bottle back in the ice and perched on the arm of a chair, one lovely leg swinging idly, unconscious of the way the negligee fell away from her thigh with each motion. “You are a strange person, Morgan. I don’t know what it is, but you are something you are not supposed to be.”

“Don’t let it worry you.”

“I’m not. It might be a help to me. So far you have been the only one that has been useful.”

“Me and my lucky streak,” I grinned.

“It will get me away from this damned place.” A harsh tone gave her words a bite. “Since you are no doubt aware of my past, perhaps you really are interested in my present.”

“Very much since it has Sabin in it.”

She got up then, walked to the couch and sat down again, her crossed legs showing the same contempt for clothing. “I came here originally as a tourist,” she said. “In reality, I was escaping certain consequences… legal action a government wanted to take against me. They would very much like to have me back to make a public scandal that will embarrass the opposition party. At least here I was safe for a while. I was hoping to find a… ah, sponsor who would enable me to eventually reach South America, but made the mistake of attracting the attention of Senor Sabin. He has made sure no such sponsor appeared.” She sipped her drink and moved her shoulders in a small shrug. “That left me only the laws of chance at the gambling tables to finance my plans.”

“And you couldn’t beat the odds,” I put in.

“Quite. The odds were all in Señor Sabin’s favor. He has waited me out, knowing I was rapidly becoming impoverished. His attempts to force his attentions upon me have been increasing. He knows very well that sooner or later I will have to capitulate in order to survive.”

“Then I came along.”

“Exactly.”

I hooked a chair with my foot, dragged it close to her and slouched in it. “That bundle you picked up tonight should get you clear, kid.”