Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“I take my chances, is that it?”

His shrug was eloquent. “We all take our chances, señor.” Then he added brightly, “But we are all alive, no?”

“For now,” I said.

“Very well. When shall we… how do you say it? Get together?”

“I’ll need two days.”

“And the contact point?”

“The bar at the Regis Hotel.”

He nodded, then let his eyes drift toward Rosa Lee. “Promptly at six. I go on duty an hour later. And her?”

“I’ll pay her a finder’s fee myself. She’s not on percentage. ”

“Ah, very good,” He got up, his official arrogance back once again, bowed curtly to Rosa and shook my hand with a quick limp motion. “It has been a pleasure, señor.”

Rosa darkened the house again, let Fucilla out and stood at the window watching him disappear into the night. Without turning around she said, “You are doing a dangerous thing, Señor Morgan. They will be expecting a delivery.”

“They’ll get it.”

She turned slowly and her face was a pale oval in the gloom. “Morgan…” This time her tone had changed and I knew why.

I said, “Only the sample, Rosa. It’s my way into the Castle. Like you said… the smell of money. They’ll do anything for it.”

“And by this means, you will be able to extricate Victor Sable from the prison?”

“I hope so.”

“Can I be of further help?”

“Yes. Contact Art Keefer and tell him his friend needs a pat on the back.”

“But…”

“He’ll understand. It means two ounces of pure heroin. We called it that when we used it for currency in some strange places in the old days.”

I saw the outline of her smile. “You are a very odd person, Senor Morgan.” She walked up to me and I could smell the wild, flowery perfume that was like a part of her. Very gently she placed both hands on my chest. “Someday I would like to know you much better.”

“Maybe…” Then I stopped because her hands moved quickly and did something so unexpected it stopped the words in my throat. Her face blurred as it tilted up to me, the gentle movement of her fingers a jarring sensation. It wasn’t a kiss, just a momentary dart of her tongue before I could move, then she stepped back.

“Yes, we Latin types are very hot-blooded and it has been much too long for me. Much too long.” She held out her hand and I took it without realizing it. “Another time, Morgan. Now you must leave. There is much to be done.”

The night had a funny feeling to it. Maybe it was the hurricane that was being birthed somewhere in the moist air of the Caribbean, but the oppressive finger of danger was still there, reaching out to touch something. Trees that were normally still cast shadows against the greater darkness, their movements suggestive and capable of concealing any other slight motions.

I picked my way and time as carefully as I could, skirting lights and other people until I had covered a mile, picked up a cab that took me within a few blocks of the hotel, then retraced my course into the hotel.

Kim answered my knock and I stepped inside, expecting those big dark eyes to wipe me out with one suspicious glance. But they didn’t. They had a funny, twinkly look of don’t-give-a-damn resignation, and when I saw the empty magnum of champagne I knew why.

“Have a happy night?” I grinned.

She took a deep breath and almost burst through the lapels of the royal-blue housecoat that made an hourglass of her magnificent figure. “I have been simply drowning the speculative thoughts of what I would say if you had showed up dead or not at all.”

“You have a receipt for my body,” I laughed at her.

“A live body,” she reminded me. “Besides, the department takes a dim view of an uncompleted mission.”

“And I’m not to be trusted,” I said.

“Naturally. Why should you? That’s why I have the dubious pleasure of this assignment.”

“So give up on me.”

“I can’t. You’re the X factor. The unknown quantity. I can’t stand to see a problem unsolved.” She picked up a half-full glass and wrinkled her nose at the little bubbles that atomized at the surface of its pale contents. “Possibly because I was a psychology major at the university.”

I brushed past her and uncorked the other bottle, filled a glass and downed the wine.

Kim said softly, “You smell funny.”

“What?”

“You were with a girl.”

“Knock it off.” I filled the glass again and turned around. Her eyes weren’t twinkling anymore. The cold was back and something more.

“I made a mistake. It isn’t the X factor at all.”

“Oh?”

“The delta factor,” she said.

“It’s all Greek to me,” I told her.

There was something in her expression I couldn’t quite read. “Delta,” she repeated, “the phallic symbol for a woman. The triangle. The personal little geometric design that identifies the female from the male. The eternal triangle.” She looked at me long and hard. “You and your damn broads.”

Slowly, the implication came to me. “Quit blowing smoke,” I said. “It’s all part of the job. Besides, what the hell do you care?”

The eyes changed, but again, I couldn’t read their meaning. “I don’t, really,” Kim said. She sipped at her glass, watching me over its rim. “I’d like a report.”

So I gave it to her. She listened, committing it to memory, then said, “That’s all?”

I had to grin again. “That’s all I’m going to tell you. The delta factor is my own business.”

“Not if it interferes with the project.”

“Then maybe marriage should have its own responsibilities.”

Her eyes glared at me this time. “Go screw yourself, Morgan.”

“It isn’t physically possible,” I said and finished the champagne. “Anything new around here?”

Those eyes ran up and down me before they cooled off, then she set the glass down and curled herself into a chair, folding the housecoat over her legs with an unconscious gesture. “I had an agency contact.”

I felt myself stiffen. “You nuts? We’re supposed to be olo…”

“Don’t be so naïve, Morgan. It was prearranged in case of an emergency with a selected code so the conversation couldn’t be understood.”

“There wasn’t any emergency,” I said. I felt like belting her right in the mouth.

“There was an exigency, then.”

I waited.

“The exploits of you and your wartime associates set a pattern for that forty-million-dollar robbery. I wanted a check on the one you called Sal Dekker.”

“So you’re back to that again. Did you get it?”

“With no trouble. Your old buddy is dead. He was killed in an automobile accident in Sydney, Australia, over a year ago and his body shipped back to his parents, who had it buried in their family plot with military honors.”

“And what’s all that supposed to indicate?”

“It throws the whole affair right back in your lap, doesn’t it, Morgan?”

“Go screw yourself,” I said.

“It isn’t physically possible,” she told me flatly.

My tone was just as flat. “Too bad,” I said. “Why the sudden renewed interest? I was tried and sentenced. They can’t add to it.”

“Serving the sentence doesn’t give you proprietary rights to Federal money. This mission completed reduces your jail term; restitution of the funds might help some more.”

I let her see all my teeth in a great big grin. “Horse manure, lovely doll. Any aces I have up my sleeve I keep there or play out to take the pot. You never did get to know me very well.”

“Nor do I intend to.”

“Maybe now it’s time for the rape job.”

The little gun was in her hand without any noticeable movement. “Don’t try it, Morgan.”