Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“So you could have had help,” Kim said. She wouldn’t let the thing alone.

“Not Dekker, sugar,” I told her. “He was the only one of us who truly hated the whole business. We enjoyed every minute of it. All he wanted to do was be a farmer. He’s got that now.”

“But that brings us back to you.”

“How about that?” I said.

On the stage Rosa Lee had come to the end of her routine in a burst of applause. I waved the waiter over, showed him the magic in a ten-dollar bill and asked him to invite the little lady to our table for a drink.

The bill went into his pocket while he told me that ordinarily the performers didn’t share the guests’ tables, but since the señorita was present it would possibly be all right and went away to get her. All the booze I had been buying for everybody else made the request look like a standard American habit anyway, so watching Rosa Lee hip-swinging to our table didn’t come as a surprise. Another two bottles of champagne to the orchestra kept them playing happily and loud enough to drown out our conversation.

“Rosa Lee,” I said. “My wife Kim, and I’m Morgan… Winters. Sit down. You were pretty good up there.” She tucked her skirt under her and slid into the chair I held out for her.

“Drink?”

“Manhattan, please.”

I passed the order on to the waiter and toasted her with my glass. “Liked your song ‘Green Eyes’ up there. Nice style.”

Her eyes came alive. “Really? Strange that you should enjoy such an old number.”

“I have a friend that likes it too. Art Keefer.”

“I see.”

The waiter placed her drink in front of her and she tasted it, approved, and took a bigger sip. I said, “Has Art alerted you?”

“Yes. What is it you need?”

“Access to a radio transmitter.”

“I live at 177 Palm Drive. A transmitter and receiver are installed in the area over the garage in the back. Anything else?”

“Information from the States. A check on a dead woman named Bernice Case. Have Art contact Joe Jolley, who may have something on it by now. Tell him it’s urgent and to expedite. Got it?”

“Clear.”

“Now, is there any word going around about Victor Sable?”

“The one in the Rose Castle?” Her face drew into a serious expression when I nodded. “It isn’t wise to ask questions about that one. For some reason he is in a special section under maximum security, a new place just built.”

“How would you know?”

“A guard… a cousin of a friend of mine. He was drunk and boasting one night and mentioned it. This Sable… he is important enough to be under the personal attention of Carlos Ortega. All the guards in that section are personally responsible to him.”

“I’ll want somebody who knows about the new modifications to the prison.”

Rosa thought a moment, then bobbed her head. “There is one who can be bought. The cousin of my friend, a Juan Fucilla.”

“That could be trouble. If we could buy him he could sell out to somebody else.”

“Only at the risk of his life, señor. He will be made to understand that.”

“All right, I’ll take your word for it. Set up a meeting with him as soon as possible.”

“Tonight? Say ten o’clock?”

“That will be fine. Where?”

“Perhaps it had better be at my house. By then I will have contacted Art Keefer with your message and the transmitter will be available if you wish additional information.” She paused and studied my face. “The Rose Castle, señor… it is virtually impregnable.”

“How tight is the security?”

“Impossible to break without a direct attack by heavy forces. Even then, they have orders to kill Sable if such a thing occurs.” She looked down at her hands as if studying her fingers. “Tell me, is this the reason why you are here?”

I said, “Yes,” and Kim’s hand tightened on my forearm in warning. I shook it off gently. “Rosa’s on our side, kid. We can’t play this in the dark.”

Rosa agreed with a nod. “You are… agents?”

“Of a sort.”

“This is a priority mission?”

“Top.”

“We will do everything possible if it means we may be able to overthrow this regime.”

“How many people have you got available?”

“Key government people are in hiding. About two dozen are trained and experienced in the military phases of what may be done. We have deliberately kept the force small to avoid infiltration and for mobility. The people, of course, cannot be counted on until there has been a definite success by our group, then they will rally. At the moment they are kept in fear by Ortega’s mercenaries.”

“And the Commie influence?”

“They are waiting. We are not yet important enough to risk an international incident, but if they can move in subtly, they will, of course. Ortega has been cultivating them.”

“When are you planning to move?”

Rosa’s smile had a wry twist to it. “Whenever a situation arises that will unite the people and force the dictatorship out. That is why we are willing to cooperate with you.”

I nodded. “We’ll try to give it to you,” I said. “One other thing… Art Keefer train your military group?”

“Personally.”

“Good. I know his routine. I figured as much.”

“One thing more, señor. You are being watched at this moment. They are Ortega’s men under the command of Russo Sabin.”

“Yeah, I know. I hope they enjoyed their dinner.”

She stood up then, shook hands with us both and walked away smiling, saying hello to some of the regular customers on the way. For another half hour I played the good-time Charlie, left a fat tip for the waiter and paid the bill. On the way out I swayed a little, said so long to everybody around, laughed at their good-natured replies and even went to the trouble of including Ortega’s men in the fun and watched them smile back uncomfortably.

Outside, we caught a cab and when I leaned back against the cushions Kim looked at me curiously and said, “What’s the matter?”

“There was something funny back there.”

“Oh?”

“I made a big enough ass out of myself to get everybody looking at me.”

“You succeeded admirably.”

“Not quite.”

Kim frowned and waited.

“One made quite a point of not looking at me,” I said.

They had done a better job of shaking the room down this time. Both pieces of thread I had used on the suitcase to tell if it had been opened were seemingly untouched, but they had missed the third gimmick, a tiny splinter of metal on the lock itself that was straightened out when it was flipped up.

Kim waited until I lifted the leather facing on the bottom of the suitcase and extracted the Miami bankbook and the safe-deposit-box key before she asked, “You think they found them?”

“Sure they did. They’ll duplicate the key and forge my signature.”

“If it was too easy they’ll begin to suspect something.”

“I doubt it,” I told her. “We haven’t been here long enough to stash something away with any degree of surety. The bag was specially made to hold this stuff and it was a good stunt. Ordinarily, nobody would have uncovered it.”

“At least it will give us a little more time if they fall for it.”

“We can’t afford to wait, baby. Don’t play these guys down. Ortega will have me hooked good when he finds out this is a decoy.”

“How do you plan to move?”

“I’ll know in the morning. Tonight I’m going to see this Juan Fucilla and get the new layout of the Rose Castle and find out what’s turned up on Bernice Case. You’re going to stay here…”

“I am not!” she exploded.

“Knock it off. You’ll do what I tell you to. This is supposed to be a honeymoon and newlyweds don’t go prancing off all the time. There are other things expected of them.”