Part 21 (1/2)
”I remember.”
”Right up until then I was going to keep on with Frank. Then I realized that I had really b.i.t.c.hed him up, the way that trouble with Jane came out. What I should have done was tell Frank right away and let him handle her. Being so very cautious about things, the way Frank is, I knew just what he would do to keep from being linked up in any way with Jane's death. I knew the son of a b.i.t.c.h was going to try to make me switch back, put the good book back, and sneak the junk out of the bank. Then he would cancel the deal, take the good stuff and arrange to have it sold, and try to come out practically even. Where would that leave me? I decided it better be you from then on, not Frank. It was the only way I could keep the whole thing. Poor Frank. By now, from the way I ran, he's figured out that I killed Jane and I've got the goodies. He knows that Fedderman will probably yell swindle and report me missing. And there is no way in the world Frank can keep from being brought into it. Even if he keeps it quiet that he even knew me outside the bank, he is going to have to explain where all that cash came from. I guess he can, but he's going to look like a very dumb person. I don't think Hirsh is going to have to pay him back. I don't think Frank will live that long. I guess I love you, McGee. Do you love Mary Alice?”
”Immeasurably.”
”Well... now you can prove it. With-Oh, G.o.dd.a.m.nit, you're gone again. What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you?”
”I think I know what woke me up.”
”I can tell you something that didn't.”
”You can't set a trap to catch a trap.”
”What is that supposed to mean?”
”I can't very well surprise your chum by getting to him a lot earlier than scheduled, because that is exactly what he is doing. This is important to him. Why should he give a stranger a schedule and stay with it? Besides, if he is a marksman, why should he come in at dusk, with night coming on? Dawn is better. And not far away. Welcome, Frank boy.” I was thinking aloud.
She was gone, abruptly. She knocked the shade off the fixed lamp, found the switch, ran around the foot of the bed to my side, made some small gobbling sounds and ran back to her side.
”Frank?” she said. ”Here? Soon?”
”Settle down. We'll play it as if he were going to show up about dawn. Today. Every day. You cooked him. You cooked him as many ways as there are.”
”What have you got there?”
”What does it look like?”
”It's a gun, d.a.m.nit. I meant, where did it come from?”
”Put some clothes on.”
”What am I going to do in them? Are we leaving? Or what?”
”Put on the pants and the long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt again.”
”If you think I'm going out into those bugs, you're-”
”Shut up, will you? Just get dressed and shut up.”
”You can't tell me what to-”
”I can take you out onto the bow, with a deck chair, and tie your arms to the arms and your feet to the footrest, and your neck to the backrest and leave you there and see how good a shot he is.”
”Now come on on! I don't mind jokes, but when you-”
I stood up. ”No joke. The more I think about it, the better I like it.”
She let her mouth sag open as she looked at me. And then she swallowed without closing her lips, an effort that made her throat bulge and convinced me she was taking me seriously.
”You mean mean it!” it!”
”Just shut up and get your clothes on.”
She did. It did not take her long. She went into the head and came out with her hair brushed glossy and a new mouth in place.
”Can I ask you something, Trav?”
”Like?”
”What makes you think he's coming here?”
”It's too long a story.”
”Okay.”
I put on khakis, and a dark green knit s.h.i.+rt with short sleeves, and old deck shoes. She followed me up to the sundeck. I went forward and stepped up onto the rail and hooked an arm around a stanchion for balance. I looked south through the nine-power j.a.panese gla.s.ses. Though there was a line of gray in the east and the gla.s.ses had good light-gathering qualities, it was like looking into a smudge pot. I couldn't even find a horizon line.
I dropped back to the deck, looked around, trying to organize something. Running would indicate to him that I'd guessed right. He would have to a.s.sume Mary Alice had told me everything useful. Not Not running would indicate innocence or stupidity or some of both. It might be the best answer. I discovered that I was trying not to think of Meyer. If my guess about Sprenger's actual schedule was right, Meyer could have been subjected to some sudden and very ugly persuasion. Stubborn old bear. Weird old economist. running would indicate innocence or stupidity or some of both. It might be the best answer. I discovered that I was trying not to think of Meyer. If my guess about Sprenger's actual schedule was right, Meyer could have been subjected to some sudden and very ugly persuasion. Stubborn old bear. Weird old economist.
Think, d.a.m.nit! Like the little signs IBM used to distribute before they suddenly realized that if it were ever obeyed, if men everywhere really began to Think, the first thing they would do would be to take a sledge and open up the computers. A few are doing it already, sly seers, operating in sly ways. They have to guard the computer rooms these days. A little alnico magnet, stuck in exactly the right place with a wad of chewing gum, can erase a hundred thousand units of information before they find it.
Think! But the Flush Flush felt like a ponderous toy, something in a foolish game for over-aged children. Meyer and I had been using it as a treehouse, hiding the secret words, the pacts, the members.h.i.+p list, the slingshots, and the Daisy Air Rule. Now a real live man was going to come across the flats and blow the treehouse out of the water. Maybe I could get out the old bubble pipe and waft some soap into his eyes. felt like a ponderous toy, something in a foolish game for over-aged children. Meyer and I had been using it as a treehouse, hiding the secret words, the pacts, the members.h.i.+p list, the slingshots, and the Daisy Air Rule. Now a real live man was going to come across the flats and blow the treehouse out of the water. Maybe I could get out the old bubble pipe and waft some soap into his eyes.
Prediction. He would have to have Meyer with him, because though Meyer could find No Name from the remembered shape of it, he certainly could not describe to anyone else how to find it.
Prediction. He would have someone with him. He would not want to rent a skiff with an outboard himself or send Meyer to rent it. The safe play would be to send a third man, with instructions to come back in the skiff from Regal Marine and pick them up.
So then, three of them. If he brought ”Dave Davis,” which seemed possible, it would make a goodly weight of meat in the rented boat. He would want a good boat, for capacity and for speed. Regal Marine certainly catered to some very early-bird fish freaks. Predawn rentals, so you can get out to the feeding grounds by dawn, aching to hook into the King of All of Them.
Once he had found us and identified us, Meyer's function would be ended. Once Sprenger had killed us and located the investment account items aboard the Flush Flush, the third man's portion of the job would be finished. I did not care to use up any mental energy speculating about how he would handle everything from then on. I would not be able to care.
The band in the east widened until it began to s.h.i.+ne gray upon the world. The islands began to show, in a thin milky mist. So this one, No Name, was too close to the Flush Flush, and we stood too tall beside it, to make it good cover for a boat moving toward us. It would have to be the island in front of us, over a hundred yards away.
It was light enough, or would be by the time I got the hooks in and the Flush Flush cranked up, to retrace the winding, unmarked channel back south to good water. Live to fight another day or run again. Or meet up with Sprenger and company under the worst possible conditions. If there is anything more vulnerable to sniper fire than a pleasure boat in shallow waters, I would like to hear about it. Maybe those Texas sportsmen who used to shoot the sand hill cranes from cover as the big ungainly birds came gliding in for a landing had found something easier to kill. Suppose I did manage to disappear? What would then happen to Meyer? He could wear a sickly smile and say, ”Mr. Sprenger, they were cranked up, to retrace the winding, unmarked channel back south to good water. Live to fight another day or run again. Or meet up with Sprenger and company under the worst possible conditions. If there is anything more vulnerable to sniper fire than a pleasure boat in shallow waters, I would like to hear about it. Maybe those Texas sportsmen who used to shoot the sand hill cranes from cover as the big ungainly birds came gliding in for a landing had found something easier to kill. Suppose I did manage to disappear? What would then happen to Meyer? He could wear a sickly smile and say, ”Mr. Sprenger, they were supposed supposed to be here!” to be here!”
So whether he came at dawn or at dusk, the problem was the same. Instead of having all day to think about it, I had a fraction of an hour.
Go wait for him in the mangroves? Set the scene here so he would... A rusty gear in the back of my mind groaned and turned. The dry bearings squealed.
”What's with you?” she said.
”Always try on the Indian's moccasins,” I said.
”What?”
”You'll see what I mean when I get through. If I have time to finish. Here. Take these. Use this to focus. You keep sweeping that area over there. If you see any kind of a boat coming toward us or moving across that area, sing out.”