Donald Hamilton: The Removers

I said, "Not to mention a few kilos of heroin, and some other stuff."

"Yes," he said. "There's that, isn't there? Our associated agencies, although professing to be shocked by the methods used, are quite pleased with the results obtained."

"And you, sir?"

"What do you think, Eric? The information I have indicates that one of my men allowed himself to be a) knocked on the head, b) captured in his sleep, and c) shot by a man he already had covered."

I said, "Your information seems to be quite complete, sir. What are you going to do, fire me in disgrace and send me off to Siberia, or its equivalent, to run a post office?"

He was silent briefly; then he said, "That was it, wasn't it, Eric? That was what Martell was doing all those years, looking after the mail. No wonder he resented it, after the position he'd held previously. But the syndicate had its drug traffic thoroughly organized, until the recent crackdowns. All our friends had to do was put trusted agents at key points along the line, to insert the materials they wanted transmitted into the drug containers, and take them out again. The syndicate then did all the work, unknowingly, of getting the stuff secretly into the country. As Martell said, Rizzi was running his errands for him."

I said, "It seems kind of like using a man-eating tiger for pony-rides at the fair."

"They probably only used the route for critical and difficult transmissions like this one. But when they wanted it, it was there." I heard him clear his throat- warning me that we were returning to the subject I had so subtly shelved, I thought. "As I say, Eric, it doesn't seem as if you've been operating at top efficiency."

"I could claim personal involvement and inadequate briefing," I said, "but I won't. Guilty on counts a) and b). As for c) I told them they were under arrest, as you more or less instructed me to do. They just didn't seem to believe me. Maybe I didn't speak with enough conviction. I haven't had much practice at arresting people, sir."

"It's a point, but not a very good one," he said. "Maybe you need a rest, Eric. As a matter of fact, I just happen to know a place… You like fishing, don't you? Well, as soon as you're released from the hospital, get your fishing tackle and…"

It was a lake up in the mountains, never mind where, and there never was a more ideal place to convalesce from a bullet wound, to hear him tell it.

"Yes, sir," I said. "It sounds swell. Thank you very much, sir." -

He said, "You can stay on into the hunting season, if you like. In fact, I'd suggest bringing a heavy rifle along, preferably with a telescopic sight… oh, and some pistol ammunition, of course, so that you can keep in practice."

"Practice," I said. "Yes, sir. You don't think I should take along a bazooka or a small mountain howitzer as well?"

"I shouldn't think that would be necessary," he said, but I noticed he didn't sound quite sure. "Well, good-bye, Eric.

Take care of yourself."

It looked as if I'd have to. It was a cinch he wasn't going to. I put the phone back and leaned against the pillows and thought about the lake up in the mountains. I wondered what Mac had lost up there and what I'd have to do to find it.