Donald Hamilton - The Menacers

"At last. Somebody has finally admitted, now that she's dead, what the dame actually is. Or was."

"You can't stand there and pretend you didn't know-" I said patiently, "Look, doll, I just saw the woman once outside this room, in the airport with you. Something about her made me curious. I had a hunch she was someone I ought to know more about, so I asked you. You gave me the harmless-tourist runaround. Being a persistent fellow, I reported your story through channels and asked for the real dope. That got me a slap-down from my boss, who obviously got some kind of security door shut in his face when he passed my innocent query along. Apparently he was told to inform me that the lady was none of my goddamn business, and he did. Well, anybody who shoots at me is my business…"

"She wasn't shooting at you!"

"Sweetheart," I said, "when I walk into a room and a gun goes off in my face, it's shooting at me. At least I operate on that assumption until I learn different. Unless I'm warned in advance, and I wasn't warned." I looked into the girl's pale face and angry eyes. "Why wasn't I warned, Miss Decker? You presumably took Miss Waterman to the airport to identify me for her. Why were you an so dead set against identifying her for me?"

She didn't answer the question. She just said insistently, "But you must have recognized her, right there across the room with the light on. It was on, wasn't it?"

"Sure it was on." It was like arguing with a stubborn, stupid child, but I kept trying. "But even if I'd recognized her, so what? I'd asked for identification twice and got a negative answer both times. That made her just a stranger with a gun, shooting." I grimaced. "And as a matter of fact, all this is beside the point, because I didn't recognize her in that damn transvestite outfit she had on."

Priscilla's breath caught. "Really, Mr. Helm! That's a perfectly respectable and fashionable costume these days, and you have no right to imply-"

"I wasn't implying anything. I was just saying flatly that the dame was dressed like a man, at a hasty glance, and I had no reason to be considerate of a man of that general description. Nobody'd told me to watch what I shot at. Okay, so it turns out you had a trap set for Vadya, and I suppose you were more or less using me for bait. Fair enough, but why wasn't I warned?"

Priscilla glanced at the still, dead figure in the white dress, lying at her feet. She brought her glance back to my face. When she spoke, her voice had its familiar prim inflection.

"How could we warn you, Mr. Helm? We knew of your past record of association with this woman. We knew that you'd been under orders to kill her, if possible, a year or so ago, and only managed to wound her. For a man of your experience and reputation, that was a very Freudian mistake, Mr. Helm, if it was a mistake. And after the fond way I'd seen you greet her down there on the beach-an enemy agent high on the priority list!-how could we warn you and risk having you alert her?"

I'd been in the business too long to blow a fuse just because a sanctimonious kid cast aspersions on my loyalty. I said, "Next time I meet a beautiful enemy agent, I'll remember to knock her teeth down her throat for the benefit of any juvenile U.S. Mata Hans who may be snooping around. Proceed."

Priscilla went on stiffly: "The woman had to die, not only because she was on the list, but because she's been interfering with our work, both here and in Acapulco-it was one of our agents she killed there, not a Britisher as I told you. You're right in thinking you were brought here partly to distract her from the trap we were setting-as bait, if you like. We were hoping that, once you were in Mazatlбn, Vadya would concentrate on you and more or less ignore us, as she did. But there was reason to believe that your emotions were involved where this woman was concerned; we simply couldn't gamble on taking you into our confidence."

"Sure," I said sourly. "I congratulate you on your discretion. I'm sure Miss Waterman is very happy that security has been preserved." I went on before Priscilla could speak: "Well, we've got a nasty mess on our hands. Let's figure out what we're going to do about it while there's still time."

I glanced down at the short-barreled revolver I still held. After a moment, I carefully smudged a couple of fingerprints that might have been classifiable, and bent over to lay the gun near Vadya's outflung hand. Then I picked up her purse and got her gun:.a little Browning 9mm pocket automatic, shooting the short cartridge also designated as.380, not the huskier 9mm Luger load. I tucked this inside the waistband of my pants and looked at the girl still standing by the bed.

"Do you get the sketch, or do I have to draw it for you?"

"They shot each other, is that it?"

"Very good, Miss Decker," I said. "So now what do you do?"

"Why, I-" She stopped uncertainly.

I said, "First of all, you search her luggage discreetly to make sure she hasn't shy spare ammo kicking around. It wouldn't do for her to be found with.38 Special gun and.380 ammunition; the rounds are not interchangeable. And then you get your people in Washington on Operation Coverup, real quick. We're not going to fool the Mexican police if they don't want to be fooled, but perhaps, with a little diplomacy, the desire can be created. Check with your superiors. Find out if they can get local cooperation somehow. If not-" I paused, thinking hard. "What about Mrs. O'Leary? Does Los Alamos really want her, or was that just camouflage for your fancy mousetrap?"

"Of course Los Alamos wants her! This was just a. a side issue. We were killing two birds with one stone."

I said, "Well, two birds got killed, all right. Okay, I take the O'Leary north as planned. The plane is supposed to leave at nine-ten tomorrow morning, but it's been known to be quite late. It's supposed to arrive in Los Angeles at eleven-thirty-five, but we'd better allow for the possibility of a two-hour delay, at least. And as long as we're in the air, over Mexican territory, we can be caned back. Therefore I'm not really in the clear until I'm on the ground in Los Angeles. You see the problem, I hope."

"I think so. Go on."

"If your people assure us they can count on getting cooperation here, swell. But if not, you've got to keep the hounds off my trail until around one-thirty tomorrow afternoon. How you do it is your business."

She looked at me bleakly. "Thank you very much, Mr. Helm. It sounds like a lovely assignment."

I grinned. "Glad you like it, ma'am," I said. "Okay, I'll give your regards to Mr. Hartford now, and take the subject off his hands." I hesitated. "Are you sure you can handle things around here?"

That stung her youthful pride, as it was supposed to do. "I can handle them," she said stiffly. "Don't worry about me!"

"that'll be the day," I said, and I walked out of there without looking at the bodies on the floor, either of them.

As I MOVED AWAY, I had the feeling I was leaving something important behind in that room, and maybe I was, but it wasn't anything I could ever go back for. I went quickly to number 116 and knocked. The door opened cautiously. Seeing me, Hartford put his gun away and stepped aside to let me in. His tanned, boyish features looked kind of pale and shocked.

"Priss just called," he said. "God, Mr. Helm, it's terrible! Poor Laura! I don't know what to say!"

I said callously, "Well, that's what happens when you try to kill two birds with one stone and don't bother to let the stone know what's expected of it. I guess we've kind of loused up part of the job, although it got done after a fashion. But let's see if we can't handle the rest of it a little better."

"Sure, Mr. Helm."

I looked at Annette O'Leary, watching us silently from the big chair she still occupied. "I'll take over now," I said to Tony. "I'll take her to my room and keep an eye on her until it's time to go. I'll need her tourist permit to get her out of Mexico, and then I'll need proof of her citizenship and a recent vaccination to get her into the U.S."