Гарри Гаррисон - Montezuma’s Revenge

“My thought exactly,” Sones said, sipping at the coffee and grimacing. “If it was just an airfield they wanted they could have been at the Mexico City one in less than an hour after the exchange and clear out of the country by now. But they did not go there. Instead they drove all night, something one does not do in Mexico without a good reason, to come to Acapulco. Now what does this tell us? It tells us that they were in a hurry—they drove all night. It tells us they wanted to be in a seaport. These two together tell us that they wanted to be in a seaport by a certain time which in turn tells us that they are here to meet a ship which is leaving.” He smiled to himself in frank praise of his clear-cut logic, “So the next question is—which ship is leaving today and that is the one they are on?”

“None,” Timberio said, one hand over his mouth as he wielded a toothpick with the other. “No ships due to leave for the next three days.” Sones’s smile vanished and the scowl returned.

“Enough theory,” Goldstein said, rapping on the table as tin to bring them to order. “Grab them first, theorize afterward. Let us find the car and then we will find these crooks. Can you do this, Timberio?”

“Easily enough. Do I get the Cellini painting when we grab them?”

“Free and clear,” Sones said, resigned now. “Though we would like a statement that it was returned with the aid of the American Government. The FBI should be mentioned.”

“And the Treasury.”

“That’s fine by me, boys.” He sent a cold glance in Tony’s direction. “There is also the matter of some thousand pesos that Hawkin owes me.”

“That is between you two,” Sones said. “This operation is way over budget already.”

“You’ll get it,” Tony said. “I promise, cross my heart.”

“You had better.” Timberio looked skeptically at Goldstein. “And are you doing all this out of kind generosity, Jacob?”

“Hardly. I am very interested in Kurt Robl and his associates. I am looking forward to a good chat with him.”

“As far as I am concerned he is all yours. If the others agree?”

Sones waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just thu money/’ Stocker said.

“Then we are agreed. My men will leave. There is the Lambretta agency next door, we operate from there. If you will excuse me.”

As he turned to issue his orders there was a scuffle at the door and at least twenty revolvers sprang into sight upon the instant, trained upon the opening. A tall, leathery man in a slightly askew black wig was pushed through the door, arms pinioned behind him by Billy Schultz.

“Snooping around outside,” Billy said.

“Tell this fool to let me go—oww!” He writhed as Billy gave a twitch at his imprisoned arms. Sones looked at him distastefully and shook his head in apparent disgust.

“We do not need you here, Higginson. Let him go, Schultz. He wants to leave.”

“No, I don’t, Sones, not on your life.” He brushed his crumpled sleeves and straightened his tie. “This is a CIA job, out of the country, not FBI. Your jurisdiction ends at the border.”

“My jurisdiction ends where I say it does. Out. That is the door behind you.”

There was the sharp cascading roar of motors from beyond this mentioned door and an instant later a small fleet of Lambretta motor scooters zipped by, the wasplike buzz of their engines drowning all conversation until they had passed.

“There is nothing you can do to stop me, Sones. You may not remember, but this is a joint operation. We work together. You can use my help.”

“The kind of help you gave me?” Tony asked, quite bitter.

“Accidents happen, Hawkin, you can’t blame me.”

“I certainly can ...”

“Gentlemen,” Goldstein interrupted. “There is room enough for everyone in this game. Sit, Higginson, sit. You wouldn’t mind if I asked you how you got here?”

“Followed you. Been onto you ever since you knocked Hawkin on the head outside my place.”

“A regrettable error over which I have lost sleep ...”

The phone rang, long and stridently and the room fell every eye on Timberio as he hurried over and lifted the receiver.

“Pronto” He listened briefly, dropped it back into place and turned about, smiling quietly. “That was one of my men. He has seen the car. Going past the bull ring.”

“Where is that?” more than one voice asked.

Timberio issued more shouted orders, then dug th tered sideboard until he found a map of the city, rattled it open and jabbed his finger on the northern end.

“The bull ring is here. You will notice that this city is spread along the shores of a fish-hook-shaped bay, the point of wiiich curls up to the right in the form of a peninsula. If the car continues onto the point of the hook it is trapped, for there is no way out. Except by sea, of course there are numerous private docks along the harbor side. If they do not go onto the peninsula there are only two other roads they can take. This one here that continues on a few miles to the small resort of Pie de la Cuesta, but it ends at the Army air base there so they can go no farther. But here, at this turnoff, begins the road to Zihuatanejo and the north.”

“Do you have a man at this junction?” Higginson asked.

“But of course. Yesterday I was born not.”

“What if they change cars?” Tony asked, and instantly regretted it as he received a number of cold looks. Timberio shrugged broadly.

“We must hope they do not. In any case I have my men | to auto rental agencies and monitoring the police frequencies to note stolen cars. We are doing all that we can. I have men also here on the docks to observe any attempt to leave by sea.” Tony followed the pointing finger and had an instant vision of those docks, of embarking there for his scuba diving tour, of later swimming among the moored boats.

“These power boats that are moored here. What do they do?” lie asked.

“Fishing, deep-sea fishing for the tourists, and after sailfish for the most part.”

“How far out do they go?”

“Fifty, a hundred miles, depends where the fish are.”

Then, in that moment, it all became very clear to Tony. The parts fell into place with a sharp click and he knew exactly what the fleeing confidence men had in mind.

“Look, listen,” he said with rising excitement, pulling the map to him. “Let us just try to think like these crooks we are after. They pull a con deal and race away, in a big rush so we can’t grab them and get our money back. But once they are in the clear they are in no hurry, or they should be in no hurry. They could just go into hiding and we would never be able to find them. But they keep driving, all night, in a country where night driving is very dangerous. We have ruled a plane out, there is no particular need to go to Acapulco to find an airport. But they do come here, moving very fast, although up until the time they arrive they have no idea they are being followed. Acapulco is a dead end as far as roads go, you have to leave by either air or sea unless you retrace your steps. Air is out—”

“And so is the sea,” Sones said. “There are no ships leaving.”

“Just a moment, hear me out. Look, here is the city and here is the entire Pacific Ocean, filled with ships for all we know. What is to prevent a freighter from stopping outside the territorial limit here and picking up people from a boat? International waters, no laws broken. And these big fishing boats can get out there and back without trouble.”

“It is possible but ...”

“It’s the only thing possible. But listen, plans must change, there is an alarm, they find the radio, they know they are being followed. But they are pros, they don’t panic. They change cars. They do not board the boat in the harbor because they do not know how many eyes are watching, but arrange to be picked up away from the city. To the north perhaps?”