Have a Nice Night (12 page)

'How do we get into the penthouse?'

Fuentes flung up his hands in a gesture of impatience. 'This has been arranged. Anita has a duplicate passkey. She will get us into the penthouse. Why are you saying I am not thinking?'

'Now, you are not only not thinking, my friend, but you are not remembering,' Manuel said, cutting himself a piece of cheese. 'You have forgotten Anita promised to get us into the penthouse on one condition.' He leaned forward, staring at Fuentes. 'Pedro is to be released and travel with us to Havana.'

Fuentes ran his fingers through his long, greasy hair. 'But you tell me he is dying.'

'Now, my friend, you are beginning to see the problem. Yes, Pedro will be dead in a week or so. Anita loves this man. She is ready to do anything to get him back with her.' Manuel cut himself another piece of cheese. 'Women need understanding. I understand them. Money means nothing to her. Her life is bound up with Pedro. I have given my word to her that if she gets us into the penthouse, her man will be released and will go with us to Havana. I have done everything possible to make Pedro's release certain. I have two bombs that will create such pressure, Pedro will be released.'

He shut his eyes and Fuentes could see he was in torment. There was a long silence while Fuentes watched Manuel with growing impatience, but this big man scared him, so he kept silent.

'I gave my word to Anita,' Manuel went on, staring down at his big hands, resting on the table. 'I promised her I would get her husband released if she would get us into the penthouse. That was the bargain.'

'I know,' Fuentes said, 'but Pedro is dying.'

'Yes. That is without doubt. So there is no bargain between Anita and myself.'

Fuentes clutched his head in his hands. 'Are you telling me we are going to lose five million dollars because this stupid woman who is so besotted with this useless creep, won't get us into the penthouse if she knows the bastard is dying?' Fuentes shouted.

'That is what I am telling you. A man like you wouldn't understand. I am known as a man of truth.' Manuel paused, staring into space, then he went on. 'Five million dollars are involved. It is said every man has his price.' Manuel wiped the sweat off his face. 'Five million dollars! I have suffered hours to come to a decision. Five million dollars! With that kind of money many doors that have stayed locked to me will open.'

'You are forgetting my share,' Fuentes said sharply.

Manuel's black, olive-like eyes were expressionless as he nodded. 'Yes. You get a million. So four million dollars!'

'What is your decision?' Fuentes asked, the muscles in his fat face twitching.

'I will have to lie to her. To lie to her reduces me in my own eyes. To have to lie to one of my people is an act of shame.' Manuel clenched his fists. 'You think only of money. That I can understand. You are a poor man. This lie that I will be forced to tell her will make a hole in my heart.'

With an effort, Fuentes kept control of himself. He wanted to scream at Manuel to stop acting like a goddam ham. Who cared about Anita? What was she, anyway? A nothing, like her creep of a husband! But he restrained himself and remained silent. No one screamed at Manuel without his fist smashing into their faces.

'The bombs?' he asked, after a long silence. 'Will they be necessary now?'

'Of course. We will have to act out the lie. She is not stupid. I will have to lie to her with the greatest care.' He got to his feet. 'Go to bed, my friend. In half an hour, I meet Anita. We mustn't waste any more time. If Pedro dies tomorrow or the day after, Anita might learn of his death, then there will be no five millions. She must get us into the penthouse by the night after next.'

'We will need guns,' Fuentes said.

'All that is arranged. Everything is arranged except for Anita's part in the operation.'

Half an hour later, Manuel left his fishing vessel and walked along the waterfront, carrying the canvas sack that contained the two bombs. He reached Anita's walk-up apartment, climbed the stairs and knocked on her door.

Anita jerked the door open. In the harsh overhead light, Manuel thought she looked ill. There were dark patches under her eyes and she seemed to have shrunk.

'Good news,' Manuel said as he moved into the little living room.

Anita's eyes lit up as she closed the door. 'Pedro?'

'Yes, Pedro.' Manuel placed the canvas sack on the table. His thick lips moved into a false smile. 'I have just come from the hospital. My friend there tells me Pedro has recovered consciousness, and his fever has abated. In another two days, it will be safe to move him.'

Anita stared at him. 'I can't believe it!' she whispered. 'He was so ill. In two days? No, it can't be possible!'

'Antibiotics work miracles,' Manuel said, trying to avoid Anita's searching stare. 'My friend at the hospital tells me the cops are already trying to question your husband. He is a fine lad, Anita! You should be proud of him! He refuses to tell them anything. Even now, they don't know who he is. He's protecting you.'

Anita's face crumpled. She turned away and ran into the tiny bedroom. Listening to her sobs, Manuel closed his eyes. Would four million dollars ever erase this moment when he could no longer call himself a man of truth?

He waited, sweat on his face, then as the sound of her sobs ceased, he moved silently to the door and peered into the bedroom. Anita was on her knees, her head bowed in prayer, thanking God for this miracle, and Manuel, grimacing, turned away.

Ten minutes later, Anita came from the bedroom, looking a different woman. She had bathed her eyes, combed her hair, and her hard expression told Manuel she was now the woman he needed to get them into the penthouse.

'God has answered my prayers,' she said, catching hold of Manuel's right hand in both of hers. 'I have never ceased to pray. God has listened to me! Now, we must get Pedro home! In two days, you say he can travel?'

'Yes, but there are a number of things to arrange in these two days,' Manuel said. 'First the bombs.' He went to the table and opened the sack, producing a black box the size and shape of a cigarette packet. 'This is the little bomb. You must conceal it in the hotel lobby.' He took another black box from the sack. This box was four times the size of the first box and wrapped in cellophane. He laid the box carefully on the table. 'This is the big bomb that will destroy the kitchens. I hope we don't have to use it.' Then he took a small box from the sack. 'This is the detonator. You see these two buttons. I press the top button and the small bomb explodes. I press the second button and the big bomb explodes. I will have this with me. You will have the two bombs.'

Anita moved forward and stared at the two boxes on the table. Manuel watched her. Her hard, determined expression gave him confidence.

'I will hide these bombs,' she said. 'You can rely on me.'

'Good,' Manuel said. 'Tomorrow night, Fuentes and I will come here at midnight. Then we three will go to the hotel. You are still sure you can get us into the penthouse?'

'I am sure,' Anita said.

'Then tomorrow night, here, at midnight.' Manuel moved to the door.

She put her hand on his arm. 'I trust you. You are a good man. I don't trust Fuentes, but you . . .' She stared directly at him. 'Our people say you are a man of truth. I do this only for Pedro.'

Manuel moved out into the corridor. 'All will be well,' he said, hating himself, but now only thinking what four million dollars would mean to his future. 'Tomorrow night,' and he walked down the corridor and down the stairs while Anita watched him.

She closed and locked the door, then she went across the room, opened a drawer and took from it a stabbing knife that Pedro kept, explaining to her that there were times when a man had to protect himself. She pulled the knife from its sheaf. She thought of Josh Prescott, the hotel's night detective. He was the menace. He was the only one to prevent her hiding the bombs. She regarded the glittering blade. For Pedro, she would do anything, even take a life.

She changed into a black sweat shirt and black trousers. She fastened the knife to her belt and pulled the sweat shirt down to conceal the knife. Then she put the two bombs in a plastic sack. The time now was 01.15. Leaving her room, she began the long walk to the Spanish Bay Hotel.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Every man has a weakness, and Josh Prescott, the night detective at the Spanish Bay Hotel, was no exception. He was a man of fixed routine. He was also a man who was over fond of women. Even he admitted that he was oversexed.

Mike Bannion, knowing this man was dangerous, had studied his routine. At 01.00, Prescott patrolled the corridors of the hotel. At 01.40, he walked around the hotel lobby and the empty restaurants. At 02.00, he visited the kitchens. At 02.45 he patrolled the hotel grounds and the swimming pool. He was so punctual, Mike could set a watch by this routine. This was Prescott's weakness. Bannion had passed this information on to Brady.

So at 02.45, Maggie slid into the swimming pool, now deserted, and in the bright overhead lights, she swam with the grace of a mermaid, and Prescott paused to stare. He had caught sight of her from time to time and had considered her some doll, but standing on the edge of the swimming pool, watching her cavort, practically naked in a mini-bikini, he, as Brady knew he would, reacted strongly to her sexy charms.

Maggie, well versed, waved to him and swam to the steps. She made a pretence of not being able to climb the steps, and Prescott hurried forward, taking her hand.

Brady, watching from the shadows, gave a nod of approval. He moved silently and swiftly to the side entrance of the hotel, knowing Prescott would be fully occupied for at least half an hour.

Even at this hour, there were people in the lobby, most of them half drunk, saying noisy good-byes before they went up to their various suites. Wearing a tuxedo, a carnation in his button-hole and a blond chin beard, Brady walked without hesitation across the lobby to the elevators. No one paid him any attention. He was part of the background scene.

At this hour the elevators were on automatic. He entered one of the cages, pressed the top floor button. Four minutes later, he had unlocked the door marked Service and entered the elevator that would take him to the safe room. It took him several minutes to adjust his implement to start the elevator. He was quite relaxed, knowing the two security guards, by now, had collected the jewels and valuables from those in the various suites, and had stowed them away in the security boxes and had locked the boxes in the safe.

Turning on the light, he examined the three locks of the safe. No problem there, he told himself. He would have to make and bend a piece of steel. These locks were for the birds. He was more interested in the fire escape hatch in the ceiling. Pulling the bolt and easing the trap door to fall, he climbed the ladder and came out into the moonlit night.

With cat-like silence, he edged forward and looked directly down on the penthouse terrace. There, below, in dim lighting, were lounging chairs, several glass-topped tables and a splendid view of the beach and ocean. Lights came from the penthouse. As he stood watching, a shadow appeared, then Maria Warrenton wandered onto the terrace. She was naked, except for her diamonds.

Brady regarded her, crouching now, his eyes only on the glitter of the diamonds that lit up like fire in the moonlight. Then Wilbur Warrenton came out onto the terrace. He carried a Nikon camera with a flash attachment. While Maria posed against the penthouse railings, the moonlight directly on her, Wilbur photographed her.

Watching, Brady thought he would like to see the prints. How these rich loved to show off! This woman had a good body, and her suntanned skin set off the glittering diamonds, but in spite of the diamonds, Brady decided, she wasn't in Maggie's class.

'These will be fine,' Wilbur said. 'Now, let's go to bed.'

Brady watched Maria as she moved away from the railings and went to Wilbur, putting her arms around him.

'We'll sleep late,' she said. 'Tired?'

'Well, it's been quite a day. These diamonds are marvelous on you, and you are even more marvelous.' Together, they went into the penthouse and out of Brady's sight.

He remained motionless until the lights went out. Then, in the moonlight, he swung himself silently from the roof onto the terrace. The big glass doors of the penthouse were wide open and he smiled to himself. This was going to be a very easy job. He moved like a shadow into the big living room. Tossed carelessly on one of the settees were the diamonds. Brady came to a halt, scarcely believing what he saw. A faint light came from the master bedroom, and he heard Maria release a moan.

'Yes, now, darling,' she exclaimed. 'Quickly . . . now!'

Brady was tempted to snatch up this fortune in stones, but remembering Haddon also wanted the contents of the boxes in the safe, he turned away. Tomorrow night! he thought. What a killing!

He swung himself up onto the roof of the penthouse and down into the safe room. Then getting into the elevator, he descended to the top floor. He relocked the Service door, then, satisfied, he took the elevator down to the first floor.

The time now was 02.50. Leaning over the staircase railing, he looked down into the hotel lobby. There were still a few people talking, but they were moving to the elevators. Sure that Maggie was still keeping the hotel dick occupied, Brady sauntered down the stairs. He looked like just another departing guest.

Five minutes later, he was back in his chalet. Twenty minutes later, Maggie joined him in their bedroom.

'Phew!' she exclaimed. 'He's quite a lover! We had it off in the shrubbery.'

Brady, sitting on the bed, looked admiringly at her. 'What a girl! How about tomorrow night?'

She stripped off her bikini. 'We have a date.' She moved to the bathroom. 'He was just a little too keen. Mind if I sleep, hon? I'm truly flaked out.'

Brady grinned. 'If ever a girl deserves her sleep you do,' he said. 'We do the job tomorrow night.'

'Honest?'

'Go take a shower. Tomorrow night.'