Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“Okay, Angelo, thanks.” I didn’t bother to explain any further and he didn’t ask any questions.

After he had left, Kim said, “What was all that?”

I went out, grabbed the bottle and tumbler, then went back to the bathroom. I popped open the champagne and spilled some of it into a glass. “Whoever followed me there didn’t hang around to see Fucilla come in. He knew the direction I had to take back, waited until I had passed him and went back and killed Rosa.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew, kid,” I said.

“She was engaged in antigovernment activities.”

“No, it wasn’t Ortega’s people. They wouldn’t have killed her outright. They would have held her and tried to squeeze the names of the others out of her. This was something else. It ties in with the shot somebody took at us.

Kim’s brow knitted in a frown and she tossed her hair back with a gesture of annoyance. “Perhaps not. If somebody had wanted to kill you, he would have had the chance at Rosa’s house.”

“And maybe he didn’t want to expose himself when there was a better way out. In that case Rosa meant nothing to him except a girl I was with for a while.”

“But who?” Kim insisted.

“Somebody’s been keeping an eye on me. It’s only a feeling I have, but it’s the only one that makes sense.”

“You think they might know why we’re here?”

I waited a minute, then said, “No, it isn’t that at all. At least I hope not. If Rosa made the contact with Art Keefer before she was killed we still might keep this machine in motion. She was the only source of communication with the mainland I have. If it was a simple kill then Sabin wouldn’t have any reason to tear her place apart and come up with the radio transmitter. If politics were involved, then we’re in a spot.”

“I still have my contact left.”

“You’re looking to get us both killed. I was supposed to make the arrangements in and out, remember? All we need is for the Soviets to know we’re taking an extralegal hand in political affairs here and that gives them the right to step in too. With Cuba on the Red side, this area would make a neat little secondary base to plant their operation in.”

“Just the same, we’d better move fast.”

“I intend to,” I told her. “Where’s your passport?”

She gave me a strange look, then reached in her handbag and passed it to me. The name and picture were going to have to be changed and the impressed seal faked, but that shouldn’t be any trouble. I went to the corner of the room, lifted the rug from the matting under it and raked out some of the larger-denomination bills I had stashed there. I took five thousand from the pile, stacked the others into a small sheaf and threw them on the table. “Take care of that,” I said.

Kim watched me carefully, wondering what I was up to. When I pulled my coat on she asked, “Where to now?”

“Favor to a friend. I’m getting Lisa Gordot out of this place.”

Her eyes flashed fire at me, her body tense with anger. “If you think…”

“Can it, sugar. I want Russo Sabin off balance as far as I can get him. The more trouble they have the quicker they’ll tip their hand.”

Only the discipline she had learned at the academy kept her from throwing something at me. I gave her a pleasant little grin, blew a kiss at her and left.

Angelo was glad to do me a service. He photographed Lisa with a Minox camera right in her room, promised a serviceable passport within the next few hours, then left after cautioning me that Senor Sabin had positioned guards at strategic points around the hotel with specific orders to detain either Lisa, Kim or me if any of us attempted to make a break for it.

The look of hope Lisa had evaporated slowly as she sat in the big chair facing me. She had changed into a gown of some shimmering silver material that clung to her with skinlike tenacity, but inside it the vibrant quality of the woman had wilted into the static effect of a mannequin.

Her eyes, dry now, had no luster to them. “There really isn’t much use to try now, is there?”

I plucked the roll of bills from my pocket and handed them to her. “Don’t quit so easily. Busting out of this place won’t be that hard and shaking Sabin’s men can be arranged. You’ll make a plane out of here if you don’t run scared and do what I tell you to. Hell, you’re not dead yet.”

She let me see the tiniest of smiles. “Yes… that’s quite true.”

“And this isn’t the first jam you’ve been in.”

This time her laugh was real. “More true than ever. I wish you’d tell me why you’re doing all this.”

“You’re my diversion, Lisa. You’re going to help split their forces. History records a lot of governments that fell because of a woman.”

“And what do you get out of it, Morgan?”

“If you’re real curious, look me up in some back issue of any newspaper when you have time. It won’t be nice, but it will be interesting. I’m really typecast. Probably the only character who can pull this stunt off.”

“Morgan…” She came out of the chair, the dress making a soft, slithering sound. “Whether you do or not, I’m still appreciative.” Her arms went around my neck and with a provocative motion of her tongue she wet her lips and touched them to my mouth. There was nothing static about her now. Under my hands she quivered and when I kneaded my fingers in the smooth flesh of her shoulders she moaned softly into the kiss, felt for my hand and pressed it against the hard rise of her breast, her body curving forward to flow against my own.

I pushed her away and held her face in my hands. “No, kid.”

Her eyes fought me. “Why?”

“Because we need the tension. We have to stay tight. Relax and it’s dead time.”

“You’re a bastard, Morgan.” But she smiled, knowing what I meant. “I won’t let you get away, you know.”

I nodded. “I know. Someday… another time, another place.”

“But someday soon,” she added.

I shut and locked the door behind me and walked into the suite. The wall radio that had been playing a fast flamenco number suddenly was interrupted to give another optimistic weather report from the local government station, stressing the lack of necessity for anyone making a hurried departure.

She was so nearly motionless that I didn’t notice her at first, sitting at the end of the couch in the shadows. There was something odd about the way she watched me pour a drink, only her eyes following my movements. On top of the glass-covered table in front of her were three five-hundred-dollar bills.

I walked over and stood looking down at her. “What’s bugging you? I wasn’t gone long enough to go the delta-factor route.”

Kim’s eyes never left mine. “We’re back to the X factor again, Morgan.” Her voice was completely frosted. “Look at those bills.”

I frowned, put the glass down and inspected the money. Good solid U.S. currency. “What about them?”

“They’re part of what you left here. Where did you get them?”

“Now how the hell would I know?” I tossed them back, irritated at her manner. “They either came from the bank in Miami or the tables downstairs.”

“You had some of your own funds too, didn’t you?”

“A little. Why?”

“Was it a little, Morgan, or a whole lot? Maybe a whole bundle you could pass over here without being detected?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The serial numbers on those bills match those in that forty-million-dollar robbery you staged.”

“Look…” I started.

She shook her head, her expression cold and accusing. “And I was just beginning to think…” She stood up, stared at me hard and added, “Never mind.”