Cast a Yellow Shadow

Nine

She should have known better; perhaps she did. Padillo smacked her hard across the cheek with his right palm. It left a bright red mark. She threw her head back and laughed and you could see that her back teeth had no fillings.

“I’ve been practicing that for two years,” she said. “Maybe it will teach you not to stand me up again. I waited for two days in Amsterdam at that ghastly hotel.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep the date. I’m not sorry I hit you.”

“I expected you to hit me,” she said rubbing her cheek. “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t. But you didn’t have to hit me so hard. Who are all these people?”

“Fellow associates.”

“They come in large sizes, don’t they?” she said smiling at Hardman. He smiled back. I decided it was just as well that Betty had gone to the movies.

“You don’t remember me, do you, Magda?” Dymec said. He still didn’t move his lips much when he spoke.

She looked at him and sniffed. “I remember you, but not with pleasure. If I have to remember someone with big, busy hands I’d prefer to remember someone like our sad-faced friend over here.” This time she smiled at me. I smiled back.

“You can turn off the charm, Maggie,” Padillo said. “We’re all impressed.”

“Then you can get me a drink, Michael. Scotch-on-the-rocks.” She swirled around, as if deciding whom she should do the favor of sitting next to, and chose Price. He nodded at her coolly.

“I’ll get the drink,” Hardman said. “Anybody else? I got Scotch, bourbon and gin.” Everyone chose Scotch.

“When we get our drinks, Padillo,” Price said, “could you take stage center and go through your ‘I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here’ routine? We are all here, aren’t we?”

“You’re here because I told you to be here,” Padillo said.

Hardman came back from the kitchen carrying three drinks in each hand. He served the woman first and she gave him another smile.

Padillo took a swallow of his and leaned forward. He directed his remarks at Price. “If I had my way, the three of you would be the last I’d ever call in on a deal like this. I don’t trust you; I don’t like you.”

“You like me just a little, don’t you, Michael?” Magda said in a sweet small voice.

“I especially like the way you crossed me in Budapest three years ago. I like that so much I sometimes dream about it.”

She shrugged and crossed her legs so that we could see them better. They were worth a glance.

“I got you here because I have a handle on each of you and you’re all so greedy that you’ll do anything to keep on doubling.”

The three of them looked at each other. “I say,” Price protested, “you’re talking a bit freely.”

“Am I? Well, I’m going to offer you the chance to form a Mutual-Protective-Association-Against-Michael-Padillo. In other words, I’m going to give you the chance to get off the hook and still keep drawing that fifteen hundred dollars a month from the Crosshatch Corporation. That’s where your check comes from every month, doesn’t it, Dymec?”

“Mine does,” the Pole said, “but it’s not fifteen hundred. It’s only thirteen hundred.”

“Mine’s only a thousand,” Magda said. Price said nothing.

Padillo grinned and turned to me. “They are greedy, aren’t they?”

“What do we have to do to get off the hook, Padillo?” Price asked. “And how will we know that we’re really off?”

“By the time you do what you have to do, you’ll have enough on me — and on my two friends here — to make us all even. It’ll be a standoff. I’ll be in no position to inform on you, because you could do the same to me — and to them.”

Dymec shook his head slowly. “I would like — as you say — to get off the hook. I don’t know about these two, but you wouldn’t call me in, Padillo, unless you had a particularly nasty job of work. One that could very easily get me killed.”

“You’re talking Manchesterese again, Dymec. Maybe I’ve been too positive. Let me put it this way: If all three of you don’t do exactly as I say, then I’m going to inform on you and two of you will be dead within a week and Price here might wind up in jail.”

“A powerful selling point,” Price said.

“I thought you might see it that way.”

“Get on with it, Michael,” Magda said. “You know you have us or we wouldn’t be here. I can’t say that I like someone gloating over me.”

“Dymec?” Padillo said.

“All right.”

“Price?”

“I’ll go along.”

Padillo nodded. “I’ll spell it out for you. You’re right, Dymec; I was in West Africa. All over it. When I got to Lomé, a couple of sharpies offered me a sizeable sum to assassinate their Prime Minister.”

“Togo doesn’t have a Prime Minister,” Price said. “It has a President, or did the last I heard.”

“You’re behind. It’s got a general now. But it wasn’t Togo; they just made their approach in Togo.” Padillo told them the name of the South African country that Van Zandt presided over.

“I’ll be damned,” Price said.

“How much did they offer you?” Dymec wanted to know.

“Seventy-five thousand, and when I turned them down they said they’d kill me if I didn’t shoot Van Zandt when he goes riding down Pennsylvania Avenue next Friday afternoon.”

“So you took their money and ran?” Magda said.

“No, I just ran. But they caught up with me and they’ve kidnapped McCorkle’s wife. If I don’t shoot Van Zandt, they kill her. If I go to the police or the FBI, they kill her.”

“They’ll kill her anyway,” Dymec said.

“Of course,” Price said.

“What’s McCorkle to you?” Magda asked.

“He’s my partner. We own a saloon together.”

“Was he the one you were using as a cover in Bonn?”

“That’s right.”

“And now they’re getting to you through his wife,” she said. “I’m glad you don’t like me, Michael. I don’t think I want to be a friend of yours.”

Padillo ignored her. “Dymec’s right. They’ll kill her whether I shoot Van Zandt or not. And that’s one of the reasons I thought of you. Of all of you. We’re going to get her back.”

“Do you know where she is?” Price asked.

“No. She was in a house in Georgetown, but they’ve moved her again by now.”

“Do you know who has her?” It was Price asking again.

“No. At least not a list of individuals. But it’s probably members of Van Zandt’s cabinet.”

“What do they propose — a takeover after they dispose of their Prime Minister?” This time Dymec asked the question.

“No,” Padillo said. “The whole thing is Van Zandt’s idea. He wants to blame the assassination on an American Negro and stir up American public opinion in favor of his country’s independence for whites only.”

“Colored folks ain’t got a chance nowhere,” Hardman said in solemn tones.

“They are well treated in Poland,” Dymec said.

“That a fact?” Hardman said. He seemed to welcome the information.

“You said it’s all Van Zandt’s idea,” Price said. “What is he — suicide prone?”

“He’s eighty-two and he’s dying of cancer. He won’t be around six weeks from now anyway and he’d just as soon die a martyr for what he thinks is a good cause.”

“How do we fit in?” Price asked.

“You help get McCorkle’s wife back first.”

“What’s second?”

“We go ahead with the assassination attempt.”

“For the original price, of course,” Magda said. “That was seventy-five thousand, wasn’t it, darling?”

“That’s right, Maggie. Seventy-five big ones.”

“And our fee? I assume that you are planning to provide some incentive other than those dreary threats of yours.”

“You get five thousand pounds each. Or fourteen thousand dollars.”

“That leaves you a tidy profit,” Price said. “But not exorbitant. You’re getting soft, Padillo.”

“You haven’t heard it all, Price.”

“Let me see whether I have it correct,” Dymec said. “We — and I assume that includes all six of us — rescue the woman — McCorkle’s wife. Then you agree to go ahead with the assassination attempt for the original fee.” He paused and stared at his drink. “It doesn’t make sense. Why don’t you merely contact the Africans and tell them you’ve changed your mind? You’ll go ahead with the assassination in return for the woman and the fee.”

“They’d hold the woman until the assassination was done,” Padillo said, “and then they’d kill her. They’d also kill McCorkle and anyone else who they thought knew about it.”

“You, too.”

“Me, especially. Except that if I killed the Prime Minister, they’d be in no hurry.”

“You’re not the type to confess,” Price said.

“You’re leading up to one of your trickier operations, Michael,” Magda said. “Usually someone gets hurt. Or dead.”

“You’ll be well paid for any risk you might take, precious,” Padillo said. “But it is a little tricky. It goes like this: the Africans only have this next week in which to get their Prime Minister assassinated in Washington. During this week we are going to have to get Mrs. McCorkle away from them and then we’re going to have to work it so that they will hire Dymec here to substitute for me.”

“Why me?”

“Because you have the reputation,” Padillo said.

“If a larger share is involved, old man,” Price said, “I should point out that I have certain qualifications in this line of work.”

“They wouldn’t go for an Englishman.”

“They went for an American,” Price said.

“An American who was selling guns and on the run, or so they thought.”

“I would get a larger share?” Dymec said.

“You’d keep half of whatever they paid you. You’d split the rest with Magda and Price.”

“Your share?”

“Let’s just say we’ve already been paid.”

“You’re not still working, are you, darling?” Magda asked.

“No. I’m not still working,” Padillo said.

“Would the fee still be in the seventy-five-thousand-dollar neighborhood?” Dymec asked.

“Probably.”

“And this would be in addition to the fourteen thousand dollars that you have agreed to pay each of us?” Price said.

“Yes. Now is everybody happy about the money? Any more questions about who gets what?”

There were no questions. They sat quietly, not looking at each other. They were probably spending the money.

“When do I do it?” Dymec asked.

“Friday. A week from today.”

“Where?”

“Eighteenth and Pennsylvania. A block and a half from the White House.”

“Who’ll supply the rifle? I have a preference in this line of work, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of rifle you have, Dymec,” Padillo said. “Because you’re not going to kill him. You’re going to botch the job and it’s all going to come out that it was Van Zandt’s idea.”

“Good God!” Price said.

Magda smiled brilliantly. “He said it would be tricky, darling.”

Dymec nodded. “You sure you’re not still working, Padillo?”

“I’m sure.”

“It sounds like a typical American intelligence plot,” he said. “Only 2,032 things could go wrong — and probably will.”

“You’ll get off the hook and you’ll be paid,” Padillo said. “If it goes really wrong, you’ll be fourteen thousand dollars ahead and you’ll be rid of me. What more could you want?”

Price licked his lips. “Speaking only for myself, old man, I’d like my full share of that seventy-five thousand.”

“When do we get the first payment, Michael?” the woman asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“We’ll have to find some place else to meet. I’ll know by eleven tomorrow morning. Call me at the restaurant’s number. What’s the number?” he said, turning to me. I told them.

“Who’s putting up this fourteen thousand dollars for each of us, if you’re not working?”

“You wouldn’t know him,” Padillo said.

“Will we meet him?”

“No. He’s already dead.”