Shooting Script

THIRTY

I was sitting in a deep square Scandinavian chair in Ned's room. Half an hour of cold water on the outside, and neat Scotch on the inside, had got my face back into limited conversational use.

'Just what's Bosco waiting for now?' I asked Luiz. He was sitting at the card table, where he could keep watch out of the window, absently dealing himself a series of poker hands. Ned was sitting and brooding, a glass of beer in his hand, in another deep chair. The guard was leaning beside the door.

And still the occasional distant crackle of shots from the old town.

Luiz shrugged and scooped up the cards. 'For the reaction from the Army officers. If they shout Viva Boscoheinvites them to bring their tanks to join the fight for liberty, the fatherland, and a Swiss bank account for all above the rank of major. Once they are committed to him, they cannot go back to Castillo, so the news that his jets are all kaput does not matter.' He shuffled with a quick snap of his long fingers. 'On the other hand, if they cry Viva Castillo he says keep your distance or my jets will blast you to pieces, and goes on fighting with Jiminez alone.' He glanced at Ned. 'Always keeping the road to the air base open and a transport aeroplane warmed up and his bank-book packed.'

Ned just grunted.

I swilled more Scotch around inside my cheek and asked: 'How does Jiminez getting the radio station affect this?'

Luiz stretched a hand and rocked it delicately. 'How you like. It convinces some that the situation is as serious as Boscoclaims, others that Boscohas failed already.' He smiled suddenly. "That is my guess.'

I looked casually round at the guard: he was the same one as before, still staring vacantly across the room, with both his brain cells obviously resting hard.

I said to Ned: 'So where's the Dove, Teniente'?'

He raisedhis head slowly and his face was hard. 'Don't you worry, matey. I won't betenientelong; just as soon as we got something serviceable – Miranda couldn't lead a cat to catmint.'

'He belongs here,' Luiz said quietly.

Ned turned. 'What does that mean?'

Luiz started dealing. 'I believe your reputation reaches from Korea to the Congo; you could find a new flying job anywhere. But I think you would agree that Capitán Miranda's reputation is – perhaps a little limited?'

'Nobody's heard of him,' Ned growled. 'And anybody who has, wouldn't hire him to wipe his own nose.'

'Exactly. So we might assume that his future depends on die one man whohas hired him: General Bosco. And they both know it, and both know the other knows it. That is what is called, in some circles, loyalty.' He paused widi a card frozen in his hand, looking at Ned. 'You made a bad mistake up there, my friend. You said, "I quit." One does not say that to dictators; above all things they prize loyalty. They hire the best men at the highest prices – and then dream that such men truly believe in diem and love diem and diat when the power and money are gone, those men will still bediereto bleed and die and hold back die fall of night.'

He turned the card in his hand, scowled at it and snorted: 'Sonofabitch! I never learn not to draw to an inside straight.'

I said: 'So how about diat Dove, Ned? Or are you waiting until you're chopped down to corporal?'

He drained his glass and walked slowly across and looked down at me. 'Or perhaps I'm waiting until I forget who got me cut down – had you diought of diat? Keidi – if I tiiought you'd done it for money, I might let you go. If I thought you was a God-and-Liberty patriot for Jiminez -dienmaybe I'd let you go. But 7 know you don't believe in Jiminez any more'n in Fadier Christmas. You did it just as a private war against me – because you're die great bloody Keith Carr. All right. But you never stopped to diink how diat'd makeme feel. Keidi – I'm going toenjoy watching you shot.'

He jerked die refrigerator angrily and snatched out a botde.

I said wearily: 'You're right in a way, Ned – but it wasn'tanything personal against your career.'

'God help me when you have a crack at me career, then.'

I got up and walked to the window and stared out across the city. Far off, down by the docks along the river in the old town, a column of thick black smoke crawled sluggishly up the quiet 'sky. And nearer, but to the north, a haze of whitish smoke – perhaps over the radio station. But that was all. From up here, in the cool hushed hotel suite, you couldn't see much but the tops of the royal palms along the drive, the top storeys of the houses down the broadavenidas.

About the view you'd get from a jet on its firing pass. From here – or there – you wouldn't see anybody move: wouldn't see anybody die.

'People like us, Ned,' I said. 'We're damn useful in the Battle of Britain or Mig Alley or something… But between wars, they ought to lock us up in cages. We've no damn business in places like this, times like this. That's why I took you out. In the end, there was another reason – but that was the real one. Pros like us don't belong here.'

'It's myjob, matey.'

'Yes. But I don't have to like your job, Ned.'

He sneered. 'You've got bloody righteous since you started flying charter.'

I shrugged. 'Or since I stopped knocking down towns.'

'We weren't going to take out the town-'

'Weren't you?' I jerked around. 'Weren't you? You were damn well going to do what the man upstairs told you. If he'd said knock down the old town, you'd have knocked it down. That's your job.'

We stared at each other.

There was a soft tap on the door.

Ned swung round, patted the revolver in his shoulder-harness, then nodded. The guard swung open the door, clamped his hand quickly back on the sub-machine gun.

An urgent, pleading female voice muttered fast Spanish and sounded familiar. I glanced at Luiz; he was frozen in his chair.

Then the guard stepped forward, out of sight. There was athud – and Whitmore walked in, carrying the limp guard in one hand.

Ned grabbed for his gun. Whitmore's free hand made one flickering movement and was pointing a big automatic at Ned's middle.

Thirty years I've played this scene,' he drawled, 'and you don't think I've learned ityet?

Luiz said: 'What the hell kept you?'

J.B., with the guard's sub-machine gun, came in and closed the door. Whitmore took Ned's revolver, waved him back into a chair, then saw the glass of beer.

He finished it in one gulp. 'You realise I been awake since damn near midnight? – when they blew in the Hall of Justice. Just up the road from us.' He turned to Luiz. 'What for Chris-sake d'you mean, what kept us? Only three-quarters of an hour since you told Jiminez where you was. Took us all that time to borrow a bunch of luggage and get a cab and make like we were tourists rushing for the best hotel in time of crisis.'

For once, he was fairly smartly dressed: light fawn trousers, a darker fawn jacket, white shirt, evena de. Clearly anorteamericanoand if you didn't recognise him he might well have been a stranded tourist.

'Anyhow,' he added, 'you don't think we came to rescueyou, huh? We just figured Carr might be running out of your cigarettes.' He lifted his left hand, found die guard was still dangling from it, and tossed him on die sofa. Then took out a pack of cigarettes and threw them at me.

J.B. came forward and dumped die machine gun on top of the refrigerator. She was wearing a slim white skirt and a blue-and-green impressionist jungle of a blouse. She lifted a hand: 'Hi, Keith.'

I waved dazedly back. I was just beginning to catch up on Luiz's plotting.

Then she saw the dark bruise on my chin. 'Did that happen when you crashed?'

'No. Just a couple of short conversations widi die Air Force.'

She spun round on Ned. 'Where's a first-aid box?'

He shrugged. 'He doesn't need one. It'll get better with time. If he has any time.' Then somediing clicked and he satup straight. 'Christ -she was why… you knewshe was here. You didn't want to leave a single Vamp alive and shooting.' He leant back in his chair. 'I never thought I'd seeyou take a risk for anybody else, Keith.'

J.B. was looking puzzled. 'What's this all about?' Luiz said sadly: 'In order to stopthélast jet taking off, we had to collide with it. Carr was most brave. He totally forgot I was also on board.'

Whitmore whistled softly. 'So that's how come you lost the ship, huh? Well, we can get another.'

'Another?'

'Ned was sitting up straight again. 'Hell, yes. I got a picture to make.' He frowned and poured himself more beer. 'But would've been better to use the same one that took part in a revolution. Great publicity angle.'

Ned was staring at him as if he'd turned green and bug-eyed. Then he leaned back again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Finally, he said: 'Well, all your actors are here. Did any of you remember to bring a script?'

Whitmore waved the pistol. But I said: 'It's a fair question: wheredo we go from here?'

'Hell, we just bust through the Jiminez downtown. It ain't cordoned off except up around the radio station.'

I shook my head. 'You can do what you damn like – but I'm getting J.B. out of the country. There's a lot of shooting yet to come.'

She smiled, frowned, grinned, scowled – a fast flip through the whole expressions catalogue. 'It's a nice thought, Keith, but-'

Luiz said firmly: 'The old town is cordoned off, by now. Boscogave the orders upstairs, when he heard Jiminez had taken the radio. That is his tactic now: to pin Jiminez down -and to wait. For some jets to become serviceable, to see which way the Army jumps. And the longer he makes Jiminez wait, the less chance Jiminez has of a popular uprising. People do not jump on a bandwagon that is not moving.' And his face was suddenly old, tired; the face of a man who has heard the chariot pass him by. 'It will take time, now. Better get out, Walt.'

Whitmore frowned. 'Yeah? Hell – and we got to be back onthe picture day after tomorrow.'

Luiz smiled a little crookedly. 'And of course, there is that.' Ned was looking at Whitmore, still not quite believing in him. 'This is just a couple of days' holiday from moviemaking – that right, matey?'

'Button up. I got an investment to protect.'

'Aninvestment?'

Isaid: 'He means he's in it for the money, same as you.'

That got me stiff looks from both – but I was still right. It was just cash that had put them on opposite sides. If it had brought them together, they'd have had a perfect understanding.

Whitmore rubbed the slight bristle on his chin with the pistol. 'Well, I guess if it ain't going to finish today, we better pull out.' He sounded honestly reluctant. There must have been bars and brothels he'd hated to leave before closing time, just because he had a picture to make in the morning. But he'd always left. He was a pro – in his own way. 'So, how do we do it? – If the old town's sealed off?'

'You don't,' Ned said. 'You're stuck.' He stood up and held out a hand. 'Like me to take over now – or you want to wait for the shooting?'

Whitmore looked at him. J.B. said quickly: 'There's still the civil airport. Jiminez said there wasn't any fighting up there – and there's a Pan Am flight for Kingston due just after eleven.'

I said: 'If Pan Am knows there isn't any fighting there. They'll probably overfly us.'

'Anyway,' Luiz said, 'it will be booked five times over already. And it would not be a good place to be stranded. It is just a little obvious.'

There was a short, thoughtful silence.

I said: 'That brings us back to the Dove – wherever it may be.'

Ned said: 'Get stuffed.'

'In case you hadn't noticed, you're down to corporal already, Ned. You haven't been exactly a ball of fire even as a jailer, have you? You could be up against the wall with us. Now let's get to hell out of this country.'

He considered me carefully. 'Keith – you don't understand, do you? It ain't just getting me throat cut – but I had a reputation, too. I was a damn good war pilot. You busted that. But we'll have two Vamps serviceable in forty-eight hours. I'vegot to stay for that. I'vegot to pick up the pieces. Or I'm finished. I'll never get another job again.'

In the silence, J.B. said: 'Are we talking about your aeroplane, Keith? Jiminez told us it had been moved over to the air base.'

I nodded. 'So now we know.'

Ned smiled f aintly. 'The old man liked it: had it done up and's been using it as his personal plane.' He nodded at Whit-more. 'Now let's seehim act the scene where he breaks into the big well-defended air base and swipes the General's private aeroplane.'

A phone buzzed.

'Or,' he added, 'ask Boscofor permission. Now's your chance.'

I was on my feet, holding out a hand at Whitmore. 'Give me a gun. He'll believe I'll kill him.' Then I swung Ned's own revolver at him. 'All right – dear old pal. Talk us out of this.'

He eyed the squat, heavy Magnum. 'You nevercould hit a hangar at five paces, Keith.'

I clamped both hands on the gun. 'I'll come as close as it needs and shoot as often as it takes – if you're theman who getsher caught in this town.'

The phone buzzed again – longer.

He waved his hands and his head. 'I didn't think I'd see a pro like you become so bloody amateur.'

Then he stood up, took a deep breath, and snatched up the phone. 'Hello – General?… Sorry, I been in the bathroom…' Luiz leant in cautiously, listening hard.

I kept the revolver pointed at Ned.

He didn't say much, just grunts and a 'yes' and a 'no'. A few geological eras passed. Then he banged the phone down again, glanced contemptuously at Luiz, and said: 'You tell 'em.'

Luiz said evenly: 'The General is going with Capitán Miranda to the base. Señor Rafter is to wait here with hisprisoners. A firing squad is on call downstairs in case…' He shrugged delicately.

Whitmore said: 'So, what now?'

'We wait,' I said. 'Just long enough to let Boscoget settled in his office out there. Then we take Ned's car out, Ned helps us bluff past the guards on the gate, we find the Dove, we climb in -zoom.'

Ned stared incredulously. 'You're barmy.'

'Ned – what have you got to stay for? When Boscofinds out you faked that phone call, you'll be ten ranks below corporal and six feet under ground.'

'No-o.' He shook his head slowly. 'I can bluff that out. Your Hollywood pals could've come inafter the call. One way or another, you won't be around to say they didn't. And Boscoain't going to believehim.' He jerked his head at the guard, squirming around on the sofa and trying to remember which end of the sky had fallen on him. 'So what's your script say now, Keith? Stick a gun in me guts and tell me to drive you through the gate or else…? It always works in the movies.'