Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“For me it was normal.”

“Again, Mr. Morgan, that’s what I’m referring to.”

I half stood up. “Damn it, get to the point. I don’t like being held like this. You know what a lawyer would do in court when I told him what you pulled?”

“Nothing, Mr. Morgan,” Woolart said quietly. “You have been convicted, you have escaped, and now you’re being recaptured. Legally, I think he’d advise you to shut up and listen.”

I sat down. Like I said before, I really didn’t have anything to lose. Not one damn thing at all.

Woolart glanced around the room, then out of habit opened an attaché case in front of him. It wasn’t necessary. He knew every word that was written there by heart, but it was a habit he couldn’t break. When he had the papers aligned to his satisfaction he said, “This offer is being made against our judgment, Mr. Morgan. It was suggested by an authority higher than ours, so we have to make it. However, we stipulated that if it is refused upon its initial presentation, then it never will be made again. Frankly, I am hoping that you will refuse it. Everything will be much simpler then and we can proceed in the matter normally. But as I said, this choice is not ours.”

I could feel their eyes on me. They weren’t looking… they were watching. Not one of them felt differently from Woolart and the expectation was there, clear and strong, that my answer would be negative. Anything else would be one of stupidity and they weren’t giving me credit for that.

“Say it,” I told him.

He shuffled the papers a moment, then looked up at me. “It regards the value you put on your life. Whether you prefer to spend it inside a prison until there’s nothing left of you except the remnants of a man or take a chance on losing it altogether with the possible alternative of only spending a portion of your sentence behind bars with at least a few years of active, enjoyable life left to you.” He stopped and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “It isn’t very much of a choice, is it?”

“You haven’t spelled it all the way out either, Mr. Woolart.”

“Since you’ll never be in a position to transmit any of this information… even if it is speculative… to anyone else, I’ll go a little further, but let me put it in hypothetical fashion at any rate.”

I waved my hand disgustedly. I didn’t like it at all. “Be my guest.”

“There is a certain country,” he said, “neighboring… apparently friendly as long as they receive our largesse, but in reality, closer politically to those we consider an enemy of this country. In their prison they have a person our scientific circles need desperately in order to… ah… over come certain… ah… enemy advancements.

“We can not go in and liberate this person Again, frankly, we have tried and failed. In this age of propaganda and internal unrest, the United States cannot put itself in an unfavorable position. This one country is using this person as a pawn, ready to move in either direction, looking for favors from both sides. The unfortunate part is, that the person involved is of advanced age and not expected to live too much longer. It is imperative that we have the information he can give us before it is too late. One aspect is this: if he is already dead, this other country can conceal that fact and still extract… well, tribute, from our government for any length of time.”

This time Gavin Woolart stopped his incessant handling of the papers and looked directly at me. “We need two things,” he said. “One, if he is dead, knowledge of the fact.”

“And?” I put in.

“The second… if he is alive, we need him . And that, Mr. Morgan, is where your potential comes in.”

I knew what he was going to say. I could almost smell it.

“This is the proposition… that you go into that country, commit a crime of our specifications that will get you sentenced to that prison, then effect an escape with either the information of his death or the person himself. For this action the government will take into consideration our recommendation of a reduced sentence for your prior, ah, activities and it will be acted upon.”

“All this in writing, I suppose,” I grinned.

“Nothing in writing.” He didn’t grin at all.

“Come on, buddy. I made deals like that during the war. Give me a witness that will stay alive, at least.”

“Nothing.”

“Balls,” I said. “You’re like the insurance companies these days. You get paid for taking chances, but you sure don’t want to take any.” I leaned back in my chair. “Little man, I’d sooner take my chances on getting out of your damn pen. That I can do and the odds are even better.”

Gavin Woolart’s face flushed a deep red with controlled anger. His smile was friendly, but his lips were almost bloodless. “No other deal,” he grimaced.

I never expected it, but it happened anyway. That deep, resonant voice of Inspector Doherty’s cut through the room like a knife through toilet paper and he said, “I witnessed it, Morgan. Do what you want.”

Two of them came out of their chairs like they had been shot. Carter swung around, anger contorting his face. “Listen, Inspector…”

Jack Doherty had been around just a little too long. Nobody impressed him any more. He had pounded too many beats, seen too much action, worked with too many administrations to get cut off by somebody outside his own domain. He was totally impassive, sitting there like a fight-scarred tiger, too lazy and too competent to be bothered wasting his talents on the young bucks looking for a slice of his harem when all he had to do was growl to buzz them off. He said, “I don’t give a damn for this bum one way or another. I’ve made deals with bums and politicians alike and stuck with them, but never one that was raw. This one stinks. So you’re in a bind and now it’s your turn. It’s still my territory and keep it in your heads. All you have to do is nod and he goes back in, but don’t play around with his life. He didn’t knock anybody off you know of. I’ll be a witness to this deal whether you like it or not.”

“Thanks, Inspector,” I told him.

“Don’t thank me, Morgan. Either way, you’re still a loser in my book.”

Carter and Woolart sat down slowly. “You haven’t heard the last of this, Doherty,” Carter told him.

The big cop made a gesture with his shoulders. “So sue me,” he said and took a drag on his cigar.

Woolart looked at me. “Well?”

“Supposing I get to this hypothetical country and decide to cut out?”

Bluntly, Woolart said, “An agent will accompany you. Others will be on hand. In that event you will be eliminated. This is one of the simpler phases of the operation.”

“Uh-huh.” I folded my hands and studied him again. “You’re appealing to something, Woolart.”

No mister this time.

“It can’t be to my consideration of a shorter term behind bars,” I said. “Funny enough, life in any state is better than none at all. It can’t be to what you consider my sense of adventure because the reward factor is too small. So what is it?”

“Neither, Morgan.” And he didn’t say mister either. “I have no consideration in the matter at all. I told you it came from higher up. Maybe it’s an appeal to your patriotism.”

“Then they’ll have to do better than that.”

All the eyes made the rounds of the other eyes at the table again. This time it was Carter who said, “What are you thinking of, Mr. Morgan?”

At least he kept the mister in.

“Maybe they don’t want the forty million back,” I said.

Seconds pass slowly when nobody wants to commit themselves. Only Doherty was grinning because he liked binds himself and he didn’t have anything outside a professional affection for the rest.