Delta Factor, The (18 page)

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.”

AND NOW THE LITTLE things were starting to fall into place. The probables were balancing out against the possibles and a fine thread was drawing them together. They still made a wavy, indiscernible line, but as the threat tightened the line would straighten and the pattern would become visible.

Time was all it took, and that was running out fast.

I let the day go past, ignoring the occasional contemptuous glances Kim threw my way. Twice I went down to the casino, noticing that the crowd had diminished by half, with more leaving every hour. The hurricane tracking chart showed that the storm, which had swung northward for three hours, had veered back into its original course and was approaching Nuevo Cádiz with unhurried deliberation, picking up in intensity as it moved. There was still a good possibility of it cutting out again erratically, but not too many seemed willing to take the chance.

The huge plate-glass windows of the casino that fronted on the street had been taped and boarded over, but through the still open main doors I could see the activity on the street, the lines of taxis going to the airport, the overloaded wagons piled with household goods and wide-eyed kids coming into the city for greater protection against the storm.

Outwardly it was just another beautiful tropical day, the sun warm and red in a bright blue sky, with only a few wisps of high-altitude clouds in the southeast. Yet there was an oppressive sensation about it all. A dozen birds wheeled overhead, their senses alerted to the thing bearing down on them, calling to each other with shrill, annoyed screeches.

For a half hour I watched the unconcerned play at the tables and even tried a couple of spins of the roulette wheel, but it wasn't a day for winners and the stickmen were encouraging any kind of activity they could. Whatever hung in the air was too stifling to interest the players and they stayed with the games only out of habit or instinct.

For me there was more than just that heavy feeling. There was that strange warm spot between my shoulder blades, the knowledge that it was an exposed target area and somebody was preselecting it. The past had held too many similar occasions for me to ignore it. It wasn't a premonition, simply a combination of circumstances only my subconscious recognized and flashed a danger signal to that one spot in my back.

I turned slowly, surveying the faces in the casino. Some of Ortega's people I knew by sight, some were so casual in their behavior as to be obvious. I spotted Marty Steele, who happened to look up while I was watching him, threw me a short wave and went back to the game. The regulars couldn't have cared less for the storm and played with no show of concern, but the tourists kept checking their watches and consulting the flight schedules every so often, marking time until they could take off.

But there was nobody I could lay a finger on. Just the same, that warm spot wouldn't go away. I was going to pick up a drink at the bar, then saw Angelo, caught his signal and moved to the elevator bank instead. At this time of day they were on automatic and when we stepped into an empty and pushed the floor button we were alone.

There wasn't much time, so Angelo gave it to me as quickly as he could. “The altered passport has been delivered to Señorita Gordot as you wished, señor. This evening she will receive a maid's uniform to wear over her clothes. Her ticket has been purchased in her name for Flight 51 tomorrow night. She will go out with the other maids when their shift is over and be driven to the airport in the truck of Maria López' brother.”

“You sure of them?”

“As I am of my own mother, senor. They are of us as Rosa Lee was.”

“Sabin has a watch on the airport, Angelo.”

“I assume that as a woman she knows the art of makeup. It will not take too much imagination to make her look like a maid or a worried tourist in a hurry. I know those people there, señor. Customs is a big joke. It is Russo Sabin's own men we will have to be careful of, but that will be taken care of.” He looked at me and smiled. “There are ways of attracting their attention elsewhere.”

“Will they check on the tickets?”

“That is unlikely too. The airport people are not used to such confusion. They will be glad to push them through as fast as possible without asking questions. Once on board the airliner she will be safe. The planes are taking off the moment they are filled.”

“You clear, kid?”

“I can take care of myself. You are the one who will be in danger from Director Sabin.”

“If that's all I have to worry about, I'll be happy,” I said. “What about tonight?”

“I will be free for one hour at exactly six o'clock. A call at your room will be my last before I am relieved for my supper.”

“Good. I'll be waiting,” I said as the elevator stopped and he got off.

 

Kim wasn't in the room when I got there. Her handbag was gone and so were the three five-hundred-dollar bills, but the rest was back between the rug layers where I had kept them. As far as I could tell, her clothes were all in the closet. I scoured the room for a message, but she hadn't left any.

I swore under my breath because she should have known better. Nobody authorized her to do one thing on her own except stay with me and if she were trying to make anything out of those three bills that had turned out she could be throwing a noose over both our necks.

The sun tucked itself under the horizon, leaving a purplish glow before the night wiped it out and wrapped the city in a moonless black mantle. Whatever had happened to her, I couldn't go trying to track her down. At a few minutes to six I slid the .45 into my waistband, made sure I had the lock picks in my pocket and as I finished Angelo knocked on the door.

He came in with the supper for two, pocketed the check I signed that he would turn in later and said, “You are ready, señor?”

“All set. What about the guard?”

“Satisfying his thirst with a bottle of wine in the house-keeper's closet.”

“And if they ask about it later?”

“He was the one to request it, señor. Shortly he will fall asleep.”

“Okay, let's go.”

The route out was simplified by the lack of traffic in the hotel. We made the basement through the service elevator, sent the lift back to the main floor by hitting the button before we hopped out, then picked our way past stacked cartons and barrels of dishes to a window that opened on an airshaft between the hotel and the building adjacent to it. Angelo forced open the window in the other building, squeezed down through it and motioned me to follow him. Once inside, I put my hand on his shoulder and let him lead me through a maze he seemed to be familiar with until we came to a service entrance that led to a side street.

Angelo wasn't taking any chances with cabs. A battered panel truck was parked at the curb and when Angelo motioned to it I jumped in and let him drive a circuitous route toward the house of Rosa Lee to make sure we weren't being followed.

We entered Rosa's house from the rear, the lock giving easily to the pick. I snapped the small flash on and let the beam probe the darkness. From what Angelo had found out, the police investigation had been limited to ascertaining the means and time of death and removal of the body. The prime suspect had been me, so other avenues of investigation had been dropped for the time being. At the moment Sabin's men were making inquiries among the many admirers Rosa had at the Orino Bar, following up the possibility that it might have been a crime of passion.

Angelo pointed to the kitchen. “She was killed there, señor.”

I threw the beam around the room. Pieces of broken dishes were still scattered on the floor, a bread bin was overturned in the corner and its contents strewn all over the place and one of the two wooden chairs was flattened as if something had crashed on top of it.

“She put up a fight,” I said.

“Si. She was much bruised.”

I knelt down and raked pieces of the dishes into a pile and sorted them out. In three minutes I had them assembled enough to see what had been broken. One dinner plate, one cup, one saucer.

As Angelo watched the process curiously, I said, “She wasn't entertaining. Whoever did it came in the way we did and killed her as she was getting something to eat.”

“I don't understand, señor.”

“Never mind,” I told him. “Come on.”

He followed me out the back way to the old garage, watched while I jiggled open the padlock and came in through the door behind me. I let the light pick out familiar items, searching for any sign of disturbance, then ran it over the beam that concealed the radio transmitter.

Angelo said, “Señor ...”

“No political angle, Angelo. She was killed because of me. Now listen carefully. If Sabin digs in hard enough he'll come up with either the right answer or some excuse to tear this place apart. There's a radio setup hidden back here your people can use. When I'm done with it, have it dismantled and taken to some safe place. Can you arrange it?”

“Si, with no trouble, señor.”

“Good. Get somebody on it right away.” I let him hold the light while I checked him out on the operation, then cut in the power, let the set warm up and dialed Art's frequency, hoping somebody was monitoring the channel. I gave the call signal five times before Art himself answered, made sure of my identity, then told me to go ahead.