White Cargo (39 page)

Cat tried to think what might go wrong now. The radio operator's relief wouldn't arrive until eight. Even then, he might not be discovered, and the microphones might not
be noticed, tucked behind the Zenith. Of course, all might be discovered any minute, but Cat had to base his judgments on what would most likely occur. Say eight. At eight the relief would probably, if not necessarily, discover the taped microphones and/or the operator and sound some sort of alarm. The pilot would be working on the helicopter by eight. All right, eight was the hour. Cat would have to be at the clearing with. Jinx, Meg, and Prince before eight. He walked on.

No, why wait that long? When Prince and Jinx arrive, get them down to the clearing immediately. They'd be there when the pilot arrived. That was it; no waiting. He liked that better.

He arrived at the deserted tennis courts, found a racket and some balls, and started hitting against a backboard. Soon the sun was over the trees. It was going to be a hot day. He was already soaking wet by the time Meg arrived, at ten minutes before seven. He joined her at the table in the little pavilion.

“What's happened?” she demanded.

“We're okay so far, I think,” he replied. “Dell's got his money, and I managed to get a message off to a Colombian airliner. Trouble is, he was moving fast, and I'm not sure how much of it he got.”

“Wasn't there somebody guarding the radio?”

“Yes, we . . . subdued him. I don't think he'll be discovered before eight. As soon as Prince and Jinx get here, I want to go straight to the helicopter and wait for the pilot.”

“All right. I'm ready when you are.”

There was the sound of a vehicle, and Cat looked up to see a jeep arriving with Prince at the wheel. He was alone.

“Uh-oh,” Meg said.

“Easy, let's find out what's happening.”

Prince swung down from the jeep and approached the court. “Good morning,” he called out.

“Morning,” Cat said. “Where's your partner?”

“She couldn't get herself out of bed. Too much to drink last night.”

Cat shot a glance at Meg, who looked worried.

“But that's okay. I wanted to play you some singles, anyway. We seem to be pretty evenly matched.”

“I'm afraid you've disappointed my partner,” Cat said.

“I do apologize,” Prince said to Meg. “Maybe tomorrow. Lola doesn't usually drink so much. She's been upset about something, I think.”

“I'm all warmed up,” Cat said. “Why don't you hit a few against the backboard and let me catch my breath for a minute?”

“Okay.” Prince took a racket and some balls and walked onto the court.

“Now what?” Meg asked.

“Let me think a minute,” Cat said, flopping down in the chair beside her. He rubbed the towel through his hair, forcing himself to be calm. All hell was going to break loose around here in a little while, and he had to do something. “Go get her,” he said quietly to Meg. “Their room is upstairs on the left. If there's a guard, say the Anaconda wants her right away. Get her into some tennis clothes and down here. Get in the jeep; I'll see you and bring Prince.”

“Seems like the only thing to do,” Meg replied.

“Ready when you are,” Prince called from the court.

Cat got his racket and trotted out onto the court.

“Hey, you guys,” Meg called from courtside, “if you're
depriving me of a game, I'm depriving you of an audience. Get stuffed, both of you!” She got up and left the court.

Cat laughed and waved her off. He spun his racket, and Prince won the serve. “Want to hit a few first?” Cat asked.

“First serve in counts?”

“Fine. I'm ready.”

Prince served a hot ace down the middle of the court.

“You're not kidding, today, huh?” Cat yelled.

Prince said nothing, but served another ace.

Cat took some deep breaths and tried to settle down. It was hard; he kept thinking of Meg and Jinx. Prince took the first game forty-love. They switched ends, and Cat served. Prince got a racket on it, but it went astray. Cat won the next game forty-fifteen.

The play got more and more serious, and Cat got more and more nervous. He began to get the feeling that there was more at stake for Prince than just the match. There certainly was for himself. He wanted to humiliate the man, but he was having trouble concentrating. Cat tried to empty his mind of everything but the tennis, but it didn't work. Meg had been gone how long—five minutes? Ten?

They played on for another ten minutes. Cat played for the corners, wanting to run Prince ragged, but the man was in good shape. Cat began to break up the play, hitting short chops when Prince expected line drives, even serving soft when Prince was laying back. Irritation began to show in Prince's face.

The set went to five-three, and Cat was at match point. He checked his watch: nearly seven-thirty. He looked up and saw Meg and Jinx coming, walking, still a couple of hundred yards away. They were in good time, Cat
thought. We can still be at the helicopter well before eight in Prince's jeep. But he had another minute or so to play tennis.

Cat drew himself up and served a hot one straight at Prince. Prince got a racket on it, and the ball went high and short. Prince, stupidly, continued to the net. As Cat went for the ball, he knew what he was going to do. He got under the ball in mid-court and wound up for a slam as Prince waited, hapless and out of position, at the net. As the ball came down, Cat took a full backswing, and, ignoring the ball, threw his aluminum racket straight at Prince's head.

Prince caught it full in the face and went down with a short scream.

Cat jumped the net and walked toward him. Prince was on his knees, with his face in his hands, spitting blood and making angry noises. “I believe that's game, set, and match, you little bastard,” Cat said. He kicked Prince hard in a kidney. Prince screamed again and rolled over. Cat kicked him again.

“I'll tell you something, Stan,” Cat said, “this is the most fun I've ever had on a tennis court.” Prince had struggled to one knee, and Cat hit him in the face as hard as he could. Prince went down like a sack of potatoes and lay, groaning, on the court.

“Easy, Cat,” Meg called from the jeep. “We're going to need him.”

Cat grabbed Prince by the ponytail and dragged him to the shelter of the pavilion. He got Prince to his feet and shoved him into a chair, struggling to control himself. All the anger and hatred of the man that he had suppressed was boiling up now, and he had to keep himself from killing him until he no longer needed him.

“Let's go, Cat!” Meg shouted.

Cat looked at his watch. The new man would be coming on duty in the radio room. Meg had taken a long time with Jinx. He threw a towel at the man. “Clean yourself up, Stan,” he said, and reached for his clothes.

Prince dabbed at his ruined mouth with the towel. “I'm going to watch you die for this,” he said. His anger was beginning to overwhelm his pain.

Cat slipped into the shoulder holster, got his jacket on, and drew the silenced pistol. “No, Stan,” he said, “you're not going to get that chance. And before the day is over, you're going to wish you were back in the car-wash business.” He drew the pistol and held it at his side.

“How do you know about that?” Prince demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Catledge,” Cat said. “Does that ring a bell?”

Prince looked bewildered for a moment. “But who . . .” he started to say, then stopped. The penny had dropped.

“That's right,” Cat said, pointing at the jeep. “I'm her father.”

Prince made to run, but Cat fired a shot into the court ahead of him, and he stopped. The pistol had made only a
pffft
noise.

“There are fourteen more in the clip,” Cat said. “I'd be happy to put them all into your head if you try that again. Do you believe me?”

Prince nodded.

“All right, let's get into the jeep,” Cat said. “I'm right behind you.”

Prince, still dabbing the towel at his face, walked to the jeep.

“Into the front passenger seat,” Cat said. “Meg, you drive; Jinx, in the back with me.”

Cat got into the back seat of the jeep, and Jinx climbed in beside him. She looked tired and out of sorts.

“Is it really you?” she asked, suspiciously.

“It's really me, kitten,” Cat acknowledged. “Are you all right?” His voice was a little shaky.

Jinx drew back and slapped him hard across the face. “You sonofabitch!” she said. “Where the hell have you been?”

T
HE WINDSHIELD WAS DOWN ON THE HOOD OF THE JEEP, AND
the breeze felt good to Cat. “Just drive at a normal clip,” he said to Meg. He had a tight grip on Prince's collar and he let it go. “If you move or say anything to anybody except what I tell you, I'll shoot you right through the back of the seat, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Prince said, “but where the hell do you think you're going? There's nowhere to go but jungle.”

“We're going out of here in your helicopter,” Cat said. “Now shut up.”

They drove up the path from the tennis courts toward the main house.

“Jinx, are you okay?” Cat asked again, uncertain, and not wanting to get slapped again.

“Oh, shut up,” she said.

“Don't you know me?” he asked, bewildered.

“Of course I know you!” she said. “Where have you been all this time? Don't you know what's been going on?” She was clearly furious.

“Well, look, we had to find you first, you know—”

“Vargas!” Meg suddenly said.

Cat looked up, and as they approached the main house,
he saw Vargas running out the door, waving them down. “Okay, Meg, stop, but be prepared to leave in a hurry.” He yanked Prince's ponytail. “Handle him, or you'll die here and now.” He lowered the gun between his legs.

They drew up next to Vargas, who was waving excitedly. “Anaconda,” he said, breathlessly, “something is wrong. The duty operator has disappeared, and someone has been tampering with the radios.”

“Not right now,” Prince said to him. “We'll talk about it later.”

Then Vargas noticed Prince's smashed mouth. “What has happened? What . . .” He was looking from Prince to Cat, then he was looking down between Cat's legs.

Cat raised the pistol and, keeping it low, pointed it at him. “Get in the jeep,” he said to Vargas, sliding over and pulling Jinx with him to make room in the back seat.

Vargas stood frozen to the spot. He looked at Prince.

“Do as he says,” Prince said. Vargas climbed into the back seat, and Meg drove on toward the clearing.

“What is happening?” Vargas wanted to know.

“Just shut up and sit still, Vargas,” Cat said, looking around. There was no one else in sight. Meg drove the jeep down the jungle track toward the clearing. In the distance, Cat could see the helicopter. He began to feel something like hope.

As they made the clearing, Dell stumbled out of the bush, pushing a man ahead of him. “Our pilot came to work real early,” he said, grinning and holding his pistol to the man's head.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Cat said. “Prince, this is my son, Dell.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dell grinned. He held up a canvas
sack. “I hope you don't mind, but I've helped myself to five million bucks of yours. Actually, two million of it is mine and my dad's.”

“Let's get out of here,” Cat said.

Meg had stopped the jeep a dozen yards from the helicopter. As Cat started to get out, Vargas pushed him. Off balance, he fell sideways, landing on a shoulder and dropping the gun. He scrambled for the weapon, found it, then found Dell on the ground with him. As they both got to their feet, Cat saw the pilot running toward the helicopter, and Vargas with a hold on Jinx's wrist, dragging her away from the jeep, a gun in his other hand. The pilot reached the helicopter and grabbed something from inside. Cat had just recognized it as a gun when Dell fired three quick shots at the pilot.

One caught the pilot and spun him around, throwing him against the helicopter; another struck the door behind him, and another struck the fuel tank. The helicopter vanished in an orange bubble of flame, and the explosion knocked both Cat and Dell down again and sent all sorts of wreckage flying around them.

When Cat found his feet again, Prince had Vargas's gun and Jinx. “Get back to the house!” he shouted at Vargas. “Get some help down here!” Vargas began to run toward the house.

Cat shot him, catching him squarely between the shoulder blades. Vargas pitched forward onto the ground and did not move again.

“Hold it, goddamnit!” Prince screamed. “I'll blow her fucking head off unless you do as I say!”

Cat crouched behind the jeep trying to get a grip on things. Meg crawled out from under the jeep, and he pushed her down, motioning her to stay there. Jinx started
to struggle like a wildcat, clawing at Prince's arm, which was clamped around her neck, as he used her as a shield.

“No,” Dell shouted, standing up and letting his pistol hang on his index finger. “Don't hurt her.”

Jinx continued to struggle.

“Take me, instead,” Dell said, stepping from behind the jeep and holding up the canvas bag. “I've got the money. I'll do what you say, just let her go.”

Prince looked greedily at the bag. “Get over here!” he shouted at Dell. “Throw the gun away. Put the money on the jeep.”

“No, don't do it, Dell!” Cat shouted. He stood with the gun held out before him, ready to shoot, if he got the chance. Jinx was still struggling to get free, and he thought Prince wanted to be rid of her. “He won't shoot Jinx; he knows I'll kill him.”

But Dell tossed the canvas bag onto the hood of the jeep, threw the gun away, and walked toward Prince. When he drew near, Prince shoved the struggling Jinx aside and grabbed Dell, spinning him around. Dell stood perfectly still, his hands in the air.