Donald Hamilton - Murderers Row

"But you did," I pointed out.

She licked her lips. She was still trying to see herself as a ruthless, conscienceless little adventuress, but her better nature was making it rough.

"Well, I-I don't know what got into me," she said defensively. "I didn't mean-when I got into the car I hadn't the slightest intention of coming. I mean, who does he think he is, lecturing me like that!" She sniffed, on the verge of tears. "It's all his fault. If it hadn't been for him, if he hadn't taken it so big, I'd never have dreamed of coming to see her this morning! I'd have been safe now instead of-" She stopped.

"I see," I said. "In other words, he doesn't know where you were going. So we can't expect much help from him."

She gulped, and nodded miserably. Well, I hadn't really hoped for much from young Orcutt, any more than I'd counted on somebody checking at the hotel, learning I was missing, and taking action in time. It would be hard to say what action they could take without taking a chance of interfering with the job I was supposed to do. Jean had been supposed to make it on her own; presumably the same applied to me.

"Matt," the kid said. "That's your real name, isn't it? Matt?"

"That's right. Matt Helm, agent extraordinary, at your service, ma'am."

"Extraordinary!" she said. "I don't see anything extraordinary about you, getting yourself caught here like a- like a rat in a floating trap!" She glared at me, angry again. "You fake! You-you sheep in wolf's clothing! Pretending to be a-I knew all the time there was something phony about you!"

"Sure," I said.

"Well, I did! You don't think I really meant for you to kill-you don't think I was serious, do you? I knew all the time-I was just kidding you along, for laughs!" She sniffed and rubbed her nose with her forefinger. "I'm not fooling anybody, am I? What's going to happen to us, Matt? What's that woman going to do to us?"

"Well," I said, "first of all, I gather, she's going to take us to meet a gentleman in whom you've expressed a certain interest."

She frowned. "A gentleman?"

"A scientific sort of gent, named Michaelis."

"Papa?" Her eyes became wide and round. "You mean, he's-" She stopped, afraid to say the word.

"Alive?" I said. "Oh, yes, he's alive. They wouldn't kill him; he's much too valuable. He may not be in perfect health-don't forget he's been a prisoner for some weeks

– but he's undoubtedly alive."

She licked her lips, watching my face. "But-but that's wonderful, isn't it? He's alive!"

"Yeah," I said flatly. "It's wonderful, I guess."

"Matt, what's the matter? I don't understand-"

She didn't understand, and I hadn't the slightest intention of enlightening her. The knowledge in Dr. Michaelis' head must not leave the country, Mac had said. That was what I was here for. It looked as if I might even accomplish it, now, and the happy expression on the face of a small, screwball blonde in green rompers had nothing whatever to do with the situation, except that it would have been nice if she'd stayed on shore where she'd belonged. Of all the witnesses I might have got stuck with, as the critical moment approached, I had to find myself sharing a cabin with Michaelis' own daughter.

"It's wonderful," I said without expression. "It's marvelous, and I'm sure you'll have a heart-warming reunion with your long-lost daddy. In fact, if things go the way Mrs. Rosten hopes, you'll have lots of opportunities to talk over old times. She's planning to put us all aboard a freighter for a long sea voyage, somewhere out beyond the three-mile limit, after which I suppose she'll turn back with her schooner and head for home. How she expects to cover up afterwards, I don't know, but she's undoubtedly got some ideas on the subject, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they'd work. She's a very competent lady, and she's got lots of money and plenty of nerve-"

"Oh, stop talking about her!" Teddy's voice was breathless. "Who cares about her? What happens to us?"

It was a practical point of view, but before I could discuss it with her, there were footsteps in the passageway. The knock on the door was hesitant, very different from Nick's loud warning rap.

"Yes?" I said.

"Petroni-I mean Helm?" It was Louis Rosten's voice.

"Yes?"

"Stand back. Stand well back. Don't try anything."

"Sure."

The bolt slid back and the door opened. Louis checked himself when he saw me sitting on the bunk, facing him across the narrow cabin.

"If you jump me, it won't really help you," he said weakly.

"It'll get us out of here," I said.

"And what then? I haven't got a gun for you to use. There's only one on the ship, and you know who's got that. And you can't handle Nick without a gun, nobody can. Not to mention my dear wife herself and her smoothbore artillery, which I can assure you is loaded with buckshot in both barrels."

"All right. Come in and make your pitch, whatever it is."

He slipped inside and pressed the door closed beside him. He looked kind of shrunken inside his yachting costume. Beneath the bill of his natty cap, his handsome face was drawn and haggard. I thought I could detect hangover and fear in approximately equal concentrations.

"You've got to tell me!" he said. "I've got to know; I can't stand it any more. The way she looks at me! Is she just playing cat and mouse with me? Does she know, Helm? Have you told her?"

I glanced around the cabin. "Is it safe to talk?"

"Safe? What do you mean?"

"This cabin isn't wired for sound? I've known rooms not too far from here that were."

He shook his head quickly. "Oh, no. No, there's no microphone in here, I'm sure. There's nothing like that aboard. I'd have seen it. Well, Helm, or whatever your real name is? Have you told her? Does she know?"

Teddy, crouching on the bunk by my side, looked at him curiously. "Does who know what?" she asked.

"Mr. Rosten would like to know if his wife has been informed that, believing me to be a Chicago hoodlum, he hired me to kill her."

Teddy gasped. "You mean-you mean, he, too!" She giggled half-hysterically, and clapped her hand to her mouth.

I said, "Oh, yes, the homicide business was booming there for a while. I thought I was even going to get to collect a little from the lady for killing her husband, but that deal fell through. She was just stringing me along." I turned to Rosten. "She hasn't been enlightened by me, and to the best of my knowledge, she doesn't know. She had strong suspicions last night that it was you who hired me, but Miss Michaelis' confession this morning apparently got you off the hook. It still hasn't occurred to your wife that two people might have had the same idea simultaneously. Of course, the thought might come to her at any moment-independently or otherwise."

He stiffened. "That's a threat!"

"Yeah," I said. "That's a threat, little man. I'm in a very tough spot and I love company. I can make things just as tough for you, simply by opening my mouth."

He was used to having me bully him as Lash Petroni: he was already broken in. He wilted instantly.

"I know," he said. "I know, I've been a fool. It was a crazy idea. But I had to do something, and it seemed like the only way. It was hopeless to try to reason with her. I couldn't make her stop. We were getting in deeper and deeper. She'd forced me to help her and a man had been killed-Nick killed him, but we were all there. I didn't dare go to the authorities. I was too deeply involved; I'd lose everything if it all came out. I thought if-if she'd Just die, quietly. maybe things would settle down and nobody would ever find out."

"Let's clear this up," I said. "Your wife is just about the last person I'd pick for an enemy agent. Just what the hell is she after, helping subversives to escape from the country and kidnapping people? What's she getting out of all this?"