The Big Bite (10 page)

The trip over was a disappointment to Knox. With the three women cooped together in a small cabin, he hoped to see some kind of fireworks. But they disappointed him. Nat concentrated on charming Gomez, speaking in her fluent, Swiss-accented French. Meridee Simpson kept looking at Knox every now and then in a bewildered sort of way. Adele Fisher was seated beside her and spent the entire trip explaining her work with the tape recorder. Knox just sat.

When it was time to land, he went forward and tied up for Forrest and then jostled for position in the line of guests going from the dock to the path. He managed to get next to Nat, to Gomez’ disgust, and halfway along took her arm to help her over a rough spot.

He said, “Did Chuco tell you that the man who flew in the day you did is known as Hans Kurath?”

He could feel Nat stiffen beneath his grip. “But, Paul, he would have contacted me!”

“Unless he’s been too busy,” Knox said.

“Thanks for warning me,” Nat whispered.

They went on around the house, as Knox had gone before, and into the screened portion of the veranda which, for the party, had been joined to the large, airy parlor by simply having light bamboo partitions removed. It made a very nice arrangement, Knox thought.

Seated about the room were three persons: Natasha, the hulking Tiber, and a tall blond man with a face that seemed composed mostly of jutting bone, deep-set eyes, and a trap of a mouth. Knox still had a grip on Nat’s arm, and as they went up the steps together, he felt her stiffen for the second time. Natasha, as hostess, came forward.

“Welcome, all,” she said brightly. “It grows so dull sometimes, I had an inspiration for a party. And even if we don’t know one another, we can get acquainted now.” She swept a hand out. “The bar is right over there.”

Tiber lumbered forward, his eyes fastened on Meridee Simpson. “How about being bartender with me?” he asked heavily. He was about as subtle as a scow, but with a smile that intimated she had craved this all her life, Meridee tucked an arm through his and let him lead her across the room.

Natasha shepherded the others into the room and introduced the man who called himself Kurath. He had a brief handshake for the men, a bow for the women. Knox watched him closely when Nat was introduced as Madame LeGage, but he showed no more than the polite interest of a man meeting an attractive woman.

The party moved aimlessly back and forth for a time and then Knox found himself seated between Nat and Adele Fisher. Natasha was across the room. In a high-necked, high-backed dress, she wore at least twice as much cloth as any of the other women but still seemed at least as undressed as they. More than once, Knox caught her eyes speculatively on him, and he wondered if she was thinking of their still-unfulfilled swimming date.

Knox turned to Nat and said very softly, “Go away for a while. I want to talk to Adele.”

“Old-maid professor!” she whispered scathingly.

“Did I claim that?”

Nat drained her glass, rose, and with a sniff went off to where Tiber and Meridee presided over the bar. They appeared to be their own best customers and Knox hoped that Meridee had a good head for the concoctions she was pouring into herself.

Someone had started a phonograph playing dance music and Kurath and Natasha moved onto the floor. Nat stood a little forlornly with her empty glass held out toward Tiber, but he had his eyes fixed just below Meridee’s face, seeing nothing else. Gomez’ companion, so self-effacing that Knox had forgotten him, rose, went over to Nat and bowed.

She set down her glass and let him dance her onto the floor. Knox glanced about, noting Forrest deep in conversation with Gomez.

He said to Adele, “Let’s go for a walk in the garden, shall we?”

“All right. I’d like another drink, though.” Her voice was tight, higher than usual.

He went to the bar, captured a bottle of dark, thickish rum—Adele had already had two drinks of it—and went back to her.

Tucking her arm through his, Knox led her onto the veranda and out to the garden. They strolled toward the pool. When they were out of reach of the light flooding from the house, he stopped and handed her the bottle.

She took a deep drink and said, “You sent your Madame LeGage away so we could do this, didn’t you?”

Knox sipped the rum himself and led her onto the edge of the pool. “Yes. You’re scared about something.”

“Am I so obvious?” She sounded faintly bitter.

Knox sat her in one of the canvas chairs and took another. Adele had another drink from the bottle, lit a cigarette, and then looked broodingly at him. “I am scared, Paul. I thought I was smart enough to handle my trouble myself. Now I know I can’t.”

He waited. She said, her voice low and unsteady, “I’m here for a reason, but I suppose you know that?”

“I guessed.”

“How much have you guessed, Paul?” She tipped up the bottle again.

“The night your room was broken into started something, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Knox waited, but when she didn’t continue, he said, “My guess is that you’re some kind of messenger. I noticed the way you counted those tapes piled on your floor that night. There was one more than you’d started out with, wasn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Clever,” Knox said. “No open contact. Just a breaking into your room—apparently an attempt at robbery—but instead of anything missing, something was left. That was the tipoff, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Paul.”

“What did you do with the tape, Adele?”

“It was to be picked up,” she said. “I was to take it in my case and leave the case in the field, and someone would come and take the tape out. I thought that way I’d spot whoever it was and then I could do something. I’ve been working blind, not knowing who’s been watching me.”

“Well?”

She said, “It was Portero, the Viewhouse manager. Just another flunky! And now something is going to happen and I still haven’t any idea whom to watch out for.”

Knox came out with it bluntly. “What kind of trouble are you in, for God’s sake, that you’re trying to outwit the ones who hired you?”

Her voice was bitter. “Hired me! Blackmailed me!”

“This is all over my head,” Knox told her. “If I knew what it was about, maybe I could help.”

She returned the bottle, the level considerably lower. She seemed to be deliberately trying to get herself drunk. Knox took a healthy swig.

She said, “I’m a fool. I’ve always been a fool, I guess. In the war—I told you about that—and then later in Cuba. I went down there to do some graduate study and—and I got mixed up in their politics.” She lit a second cigarette from the butt of her first. “Lost causes and all that sort of thing.”

“You mixed yourself in Latin-American politics?”

“Yes, and I was old enough to know better. But I—I fell in love again. And it did seem wonderful—world-saving—all that sort of thing. Then I found out it wasn’t just an anti-dictator party I was mixed up in. It wasn’t even home grown.” She stopped and reached for the bottle.

Knox yielded it reluctantly. The rum was warming him inside, too. One-hundred-fifty-proof liquor did that in a hurry. He said for her, “It was inspired by the boys east of the Iron Curtain?”

“Yes. I went home, and because I was out of Cuba, I forgot about it. I wanted to forget. Then a few years ago a man came to where I teach and he told me I was going to Central America during the summer to study. I was to do what I did here, be a sort of post office. I tried to refuse, but there were photographs of me with certain people in Cuba, some foolish letters I’d written. Any one of them, sent to the college authorities, would have had me fired and blacklisted. And I do like my work. It’s my life now. I—I did it.”

“Guatemala?”

“Yes. Fortunately, they lost.”

“And now it’s Cuba,” he said.

“You know about it?”

Knox tried to curb his tongue, but the combination of rum and pity for Adele was more than he could handle. He said, “I know about it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Then you will help me? Don’t you see, that’s why I wanted to know you in the first place—to find out if you were someone who could help me. Tell me, please, who it is. Who is their—their man here?”

“What good would that do?”

She stood up, swaying a little, and threw her cigarette into the pool. It hissed softly. “I’d kill him. But first I’d make him tell me where the—the documents on me are.”

Knox was on his feet, holding her. She had begun to cry, the helpless sobs of a person who looks at defeat and knows there is no escape from it.

“Easy, easy.” Her head rested against his shoulder and the sobs quieted a little. He stroked her hair gently.

She backed away enough to reach his handkerchief and used it to wipe her tears. “I’m sorry, Paul, but I don’t know what to do! Oh, Paul …”

Her face was very close to his, her lips slightly parted. She wanted to be kissed, and he kissed her, comforting her. Only, somehow, the effect was wrong—on them both. Three minutes later when they drew away for air, he realized the effect had been very wrong indeed.

“Paul, Paul,” she murmured. Lifting her hands, she clasped him about the neck and drew him toward her again. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her breath quick. There was little resemblance to the dry, academic Doctor Fisher he had first seen.

“We haven’t time for this,” he said as gently as he could.

“Time enough,” she whispered, her lips fluttering against his.

Inside Knox a tiny warning flared up, but it was quickly drowned by the rum. He pulled her to him. How long they stood together, he didn’t know. Only when a noise sharp enough to penetrate the hammering in his ears intruded did he break away. She stood, arms hanging, her eyes closed. He said, “Sit down,” in a low voice, and turned.

He caught a glimpse of white as someone moved from the screen of bushes that separated the house from the pond. White meant nothing. All the men wore white jackets and Natasha wore a white gown. He wondered how long the listener had been there.

“We’ve been spied on,” he said.

It was like a dousing in cold water. The fear came again. He said, “Listen. Go in, keep hold of yourself, and circulate.”

“Yes, Paul.” Her voice was dull.

“And snap out of it. We all might be shot at any moment.”

She started for the house. “They don’t work that way unless they have to. I doubt if they shot Curtis. They’d be more careful, make his death appear an accident.”

“What do you know about Curtis?”

“I just know that he wasn’t careful enough,” she said. “I guessed he was here for a purpose; they would guess, too.”

Knox escorted her into the house, and left her just inside the door. He went over to where Nat stood alone.

“Well,” she murmured, “have a good chat, darling?”

“Go to hell. This is hotter than I thought.”

“So I see,” she said. “Your lips are on fire.”

Knox glared at her and wiped the lipstick from his face. He said, “Any luck?”

“I danced with all the men but Tiber,” she said. “He’s gone on Meridee.”

“Gomez?”

“Oh yes, but carefully. His heart, you know.”

“And Kurath?” Knox asked.

“And Kurath,” she said. Her voice was tight, reminding him of Adele’s. “But he’s strange, Paul. He’s changed.”

“How?”

“He said to me, ‘Get out of here. You haven’t got a chance. This is too big for you.’ To me—Gerard Tinsley’s daughter, one of his own men said that, Paul.”

“Which side is he on?”

Nat drained her drink. “I don’t care. I don’t care if everyone is on the other side. I’m not going to walk off and leave all that nice gold—not for
her
.”

Knox thought, When the chips are down, Nat will be moving against me, not with me. He looked about, saw Forrest watching him steadily, and knew that the time had almost come.

He said to Nat, “Who left the room after Adele and I did?”

“Almost everyone,” she said. “But they all came back quickly except Forrest. He was gone for some time, almost as long as you were. He said something about checking the petrol in the power plant.”

So it was Forrest. Knox had suspected as much. Forrest was the smooth, tough kind the Curtain boys would use for a job like this. Forrest and maybe Kurath.

Knox felt a little sick. Forrest had overheard him telling what he knew to Adele. So now Natasha’s side knew who he was and why he was here.

Knox gave the appearance of having a good time, circulating about the room with a fresh drink always at hand.

He had one piece of good fortune. Tiber had to leave the room and for the first time Meridee was left alone. Knox drained his glass and weaved over to replenish it. She looked up at him, a dazed, half-drunken look on her face. Her lipstick was smeared.

“How’s it going?” His voice was low.

“What a man,” she said. “That guy’s a keg, an empty keg.” She shrugged. “I’ve been pumped inside out. I think I’m okay.”

Knox nodded. He said, “Something might break any minute.”

For a brief instant the dazed look left her face, her eyes were sharp and clear. She said, “What do I do?”

“If I give a signal—drop my glass, let’s say—attract attention to yourself.” It was the best he could think of.

Filling his glass, Knox wandered off. He decided he was hungry. He announced the fact to the air, at the moment filled with waltz music, and, staggering slightly, maneuvered himself through the kitchen doorway. In that fashion, he made the second piece of good fortune himself.

He found Manuelita up to her elbows in dishwater. She swiveled her head as he came in, glared and returned to her work. Knox said in rapid Spanish, “Where’s Chuco?”

“In and out,” she answered. “When he is thirsty or hungry, he comes in. Then he goes out.” She was sulky. Probably because she had no time to go out with Chuco.

Knox said, “Do not be so harsh with Chuco. I see him every day and he speaks of no other but his Manuelita.”

She giggled, but she still wasn’t having any. “What of that
rubia
, that blonde he took to the bus? He was with her. With his own mouth, he told Forrest of his conquest.”

“A kiss which she gave him in gratitude, nothing more. I swear nothing more. With my own eyes, I saw him return and wash his mouth with soap. This I swear.”

Manuelita lifted her hands from the dishwater and flicked them aimlessly. “All men are great liars and defenders of one another.”

“True,” Knox said, “but how charming their adversaries—the ladies.”

“And what is it you want, señor?”

She had had enough byplay. Knox said, “A favor of you, Manuelita. A favor that may save many lives.”

She was of the age and temperament—he hoped—to be romantically inclined. Her eyes widened. They widened even more as he removed some peso notes from his pocket and let her see them. “For you if you will put out the lights.”

“The lights, señor?”

“Si, all the lights. There is a main switch, is there not? With fuses perhaps?”

“Si, como noi”

He extended the money. “Then when you hear the Scottish music—the bagpipes—run and pull the switch and take the fuses and throw them far. You know bagpipes?”

“Si.”
Her eyes were on the money.

“And if all goes well, there will be more. Twice as much as this.”

She did not take the money, although her head was bobbing up and down. Finally she said, “My hands, they are wet, señor.”

Knox tucked the bills firmly down into her ample bosom, received a half-shy, half-pleased smile, and departed.

He was lucky again. Tiber was back, but as bartender was occupied. Knox had a brief instant to say to Meridee, “If you have to attract attention, try one of your bagpipe records.”

“All figured out,” she said with a quick nod.

Knox wandered away. Gomez, apparently tired from dancing, was sipping a brandy in a chair on the veranda. Knox went toward him, humming softly.

“A most beautiful place, is it not, señor?” Knox asked him suddenly.

Gomez started slightly, but recovered himself at once. He turned with his eyes bright; there appeared little of the invalid about him. Gomez’ companion was moving in from the right, but Knox paid no attention.

“Most beautiful,” he agreed. “Be seated, Señor Knox. I have wanted to speak with you for some time.” His English was still precise, without inflection, and certainly not slurred by brandy. “Tonio, bring a chair for Señor Knox.”

The wispy companion brought a chair. Knox sat down, put his feet on the veranda railing and sighed. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, I understand you are a detective.”

“An insurance investigator.”

“Ah, and you came seeking this Curtis?”

“That is correct. I believe he disappeared the day before you arrived.”

“Then you have made inquiries about me?”

“I have inquired about everyone,”

“And you found …”

“That you are an important personage traveling incognito,” Knox answered. “You are here for your health. A heart condition, I believe.”

“Do you believe, Mr. Knox?”

Knox smiled. He said in a flat, sober voice, “Damn little, Señor Gomez, damn little.”

“So I thought, señor. Shall we be frank with one another?”

Knox suddenly discovered he had no choice in the matter. Tonio was standing behind them, between their two chairs. One hand was visible. The other had a knife in it and the knife was pressed lightly against Knox’s left ribs.

“That is not necessary,” he said in Spanish. “I am here in your interest, señor.”

“I have heard otherwise.” Gomez lit a fragrant cigar, not bothering to look at Knox while speaking to him. “I must ask you to explain yourself.”

And make it good, Knox thought, or little Tonio will play rough. He said, “I am here as the man Forrest is here.”

“Ah?”

“Do you think, Señor Gomez,” Knox went on, “that we are foolish enough to leave about twenty millions in gold and trust those who know of it?”

There was roughness in Gomez’ voice. “You impune me, señor.”

“Not at all,” Knox said smoothly. “I speak of the woman and her man, that Tiber. Surely you know that we sent Forrest to watch them. Twenty times one million is enough to risk a great deal for.”

“I did not know. I suspected as much.” By his tone, Knox knew that he was not only surprised, he was perturbed.

“One cannot always trust underlings. There are the weaknesses of the flesh. The woman is very attractive, is she not?”

“For her type.”

“It is a type that Forrest admires a great deal,” Knox said smoothly. “There is always temptation where a woman is involved. How foolish all of us would feel should we discover that not only had our funds flown, but the watchdog of them and the watchdog of the watchdog as well.”

“True.” Gomez was speaking quietly again. Suddenly his cigar bobbed. A noise came from his lips. His shoulders shook. He was laughing.

“I find nothing humorous,” Knox said stiffly.

“Ah, you party members. You are as humorless as your masters.”

Knox could have kissed him. He felt the knife being withdrawn. He hoped he wasn’t showing the sweat that stood out on his forehead in cold, clammy beads. He said, “You know then that you are in good hands, señor.” He rose, obviously hurt at Gomez’ remark and yet, equally obviously, enough lower in the scale of the hierarchy that he dared not take umbrage. It was, he thought, one of his better performances.

“One thing, Señor Knox. I am curious about the women who seem so drawn to you.”

Knox permitted himself a fleeting smile. He said, “The one who calls herself Adele Fisher is a messenger of ours. It was she who sent the notice here that precipitated this party.”

“A clever move,” Gomez conceded. He glanced into the room where a good deal of dancing and drinking still went on. “Let us hope they have enough sense to stop in time.”

“That is one of my responsibilities,” Knox said. He waited, hoping.

“Tomorrow night comes soon,” Gomez said. “You must stop them soon.”

Knox felt elation spraying all over him. Tomorrow night. He said feelingly, “They will stop soon, señor. That I guarantee.”

“You were telling me of the women,” Gomez reminded him. “Are the others also our—friends?”

That would be carrying a good thing too far, Knox decided. He said, “Unfortunately, no. The one who calls herself Meridee Simpson is what she claims to be, a night-club dancer. She was here some few days ago, you may remember. But at that time she lacked funds. I understand she had a source in Mexico City. I believe her harmless.”

“An interesting case of glandular development,” Gomez said. His eyes were sharp. “And the other?”

“Madame LeGage?” Knox smiled frostily. “She, Señor Gomez, is the genuine Natalie Tinsley. Here, I discover, to follow in her father’s footsteps and take what she considers her share of the money.”

He looked into Gomez’ eyes, bowed, and murmured, “A separate problem, you see. She and her henchmen may cause us trouble.”

“Henchmen! And they are …?”

“Of that I am not sure,” Knox said. “But I suspect the big man, Tiber, and I suspect the new one,. Kurath.
Adios
.” He walked away, leaving Gomez staring thoughtfully into the room.