The Delta Factor

8

The night had a funny feeling to it. Maybe it was the hurricane that was being birthed somewhere in the moist air of the Caribbean, but the oppressive finger of danger was still there, reaching out to touch something. Trees that were normally still cast shadows against the greater darkness, their movements suggestive and capable of concealing any other slight motions.

I picked my way and time as carefully as I could, skirting lights and other people until I had covered a mile, picked up a cab that took me within a few blocks of the hotel, then retraced my course into the hotel.

Kim answered my knock and I stepped inside, expecting those big dark eyes to wipe me out with one suspicious glance. But they didn’t. They had a funny, twinkly look of don’t-give-a-damn resignation, and when I saw the empty magnum of champagne I knew why.

“Have a happy night?” I grinned.

She took a deep breath and almost burst through the lapels of the royal-blue housecoat that made an hourglass of her magnificent figure. “I have been simply drowning the speculative thoughts of what I would say if you had showed up dead or not at all.”

“You have a receipt for my body,” I laughed at her.

“A live body,” she reminded me. “Besides, the department takes a dim view of an uncompleted mission.”

“And I’m not to be trusted,” I said.

“Naturally. Why should you? That’s why I have the dubious pleasure of this assignment.”

“So give up on me.”

“I can’t. You’re the X factor. The unknown quantity. I can’t stand to see a problem unsolved.” She picked up a half-full glass and wrinkled her nose at the little bubbles that atomized at the surface of its pale contents. “Possibly because I was a psychology major at the university.”

I brushed past her and uncorked the other bottle, filled a glass and downed the wine.

Kim said softly, “You smell funny.”

“What?”

“You were with a girl.”

“Knock it off.” I filled the glass again and turned around. Her eyes weren’t twinkling anymore. The cold was back and something more.

“I made a mistake. It isn’t the X factor at all.”

“Oh?”

“The delta factor,” she said.

“It’s all Greek to me,” I told her.

There was something in her expression I couldn’t quite read. “Delta,” she repeated, “the phallic symbol for a woman. The triangle. The personal little geometric design that identifies the female from the male. The eternal triangle.” She looked at me long and hard. “You and your damn broads.”

Slowly, the implication came to me. “Quit blowing smoke,” I said. “It’s all part of the job. Besides, what the hell do you care?”

The eyes changed, but again, I couldn’t read their meaning. “I don’t, really,” Kim said. She sipped at her glass, watching me over its rim. “I’d like a report.”

So I gave it to her. She listened, committing it to memory, then said, “That’s all?”

I had to grin again. “That’s all I’m going to tell you. The delta factor is my own business.”

“Not if it interferes with the project.”

“Then maybe marriage should have its own responsibilities.”

Her eyes glared at me this time. “Go screw yourself, Morgan.”

“It isn’t physically possible,” I said and finished the champagne. “Anything new around here?”

Those eyes ran up and down me before they cooled off, then she set the glass down and curled herself into a chair, folding the housecoat over her legs with an unconscious gesture. “I had an agency contact.”

I felt myself stiffen. “You nuts? We’re supposed to be olo…”

“Don’t be so naïve, Morgan. It was prearranged in case of an emergency with a selected code so the conversation couldn’t be understood.”

“There wasn’t any emergency,” I said. I felt like belting her right in the mouth.

“There was an exigency, then.”

I waited.

“The exploits of you and your wartime associates set a pattern for that forty-million-dollar robbery. I wanted a check on the one you called Sal Dekker.”

“So you’re back to that again. Did you get it?”

“With no trouble. Your old buddy is dead. He was killed in an automobile accident in Sydney, Australia, over a year ago and his body shipped back to his parents, who had it buried in their family plot with military honors.”

“And what’s all that supposed to indicate?”

“It throws the whole affair right back in your lap, doesn’t it, Morgan?”

“Go screw yourself,” I said.

“It isn’t physically possible,” she told me flatly.

My tone was just as flat. “Too bad,” I said. “Why the sudden renewed interest? I was tried and sentenced. They can’t add to it.”

“Serving the sentence doesn’t give you proprietary rights to Federal money. This mission completed reduces your jail term; restitution of the funds might help some more.”

I let her see all my teeth in a great big grin. “Horse manure, lovely doll. Any aces I have up my sleeve I keep there or play out to take the pot. You never did get to know me very well.”

“Nor do I intend to.”

“Maybe now it’s time for the rape job.”

The little gun was in her hand without any noticeable movement. “Don’t try it, Morgan.”

“Someday I’m going to take that away from you and you know what I’m going to do with it?”

“Tell me, Morgan.”

I let out a low laugh. “Nah,” I said, “I don’t think that’s physically possible either.” Instead of the expected cold flooding her eyes again, there was that little twinkle and I said, “Get dressed. I’d like to make an appearance downstairs.”

“Wouldn’t that be strange for a honeymooning couple?”

“There’s been time enough to do what we were going to do. They’ll think it’s a ten-minute break.”

“Male pride,” she said scornfully.

“Masculine surety, kid,” I told her. “On me it sticks out all over.”

The gaming rooms of the hotel casino weren’t as crowded as usual. Conversation seemed to be smothered by an unseen haze and the play at the tables was almost lackadaisical. Winning streaks generated only a polite show of interest and more people were at the several bars than had been previously. A crowd was grouped around the desk checking out, another making airline reservations back to the mainland and when I asked a bellboy about the situation he merely shrugged and said the weather had something to do with it.

Angelo was a little more specific. He indicated some of the maintenance crew lugging four-by-eight sections of half-inch plywood to the front of the building and told me that the weather advisory reports positioned the hurricane five hundred miles out and moving toward the island faster than expected. There was a possibility of it swinging northwest, but a lot of the guests weren’t taking any chances. They were leaving while there was still time.

You could smell it even inside. It was all there. Everything piling up at once. That moving finger was preselecting its targets, lining them up, then withdrawing to deliver the full impact of a lethal punch.

I split with Kim, leaving her to play out a streak at the roulette wheel while I roamed between the aisles looking for the action. I stopped at the crap table, the only place that had a crowd and edged myself in when a player left in disgust. I threw a brace of chips on the field numbers and the dark-haired guy with the lopsided grin who was rolling the dice looked up at me with a challenging glance, spun the dice out, then grimaced when I picked up my winnings. Everybody but me was playing the lines so he simply smiled, said, “Lucky,” and tossed the cubes out again. This time he made his point.

The next two rolls I lost on the field, made part of it back while the shooter was still trying for his six, then held back while he made it and raked in his chips.

He looked up with another of those crooked grins and said, “You ought to play on my side, feller.”

“I’m a lousy gambler,” I told him.

“Not from what I seen,” he laughed. “I was there when you stopped the table the last time, remember?” He picked up the dice, shook them and threw his roll with a practiced toss and came up a three. The next pass he sevened out and said, “Well, you can’t win ‘em all,” and crinkled his face in a laugh that threw his features out of shape. “Easy come, easy go. You going to roll ’em tonight?”

I shook my head. “I know when I’ve had it,” I told him. I stepped back and let the sequin-gowned fat dame beside me take the dice.

“It’s the weather,” the guy told me and stuck out his hand. “Marty Steele, in case you forgot.”

“From Yonkers,” I answered, remembering him.

He offered me a cigarette and when I turned it down stuck one in his mouth and lit it. “You cutting out with the rest?”

“I don’t know. It’s a hell of a way to wreck a honeymoon.”

“Yeah. I saw your bride. Quite a woman, that one. You sure got the luck. Me, I always wind up with some twist who cleans me out and takes off.” He shrugged and grinned again. “Maybe I’m better off at that.”

He tried to keep his tone light, but there was a reserved growl behind it and the remnants of the grin had lost its humor to an expression of near hate that lasted a split second before it came under control. Whatever bugged this guy was going to explode someday if he couldn’t keep a lid on himself. He yanked the cigarette from his mouth with a peculiar arm motion, grimaced, then looked at me again. “Guess this damn storm coming in got everybody edgy.”

“The planes are still leaving,” I suggested.

“I’m not that edgy. Let the tourists blow. The big money boys are sticking it out and I plan to make a little loot at the tables. I waited a long time to see some of this action I’ve been hearing about and no damn storm is going to blow it on me.”

“Well,” I said, “hope you make out.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I walked off toward the roulette wheel where Kim was losing her chips one at a time, saw her frown of annoyance when she missed by one number and the grim determination of the amateur gambler when she placed another chip on the same digit.

With the crowd thinned out the security personnel were even more noticeable. The tension had touched them too and they stood in small groups eyeing the guests nervously. The sight of money leaving Nuevo Cádiz was going to leave a lot of tempers short.

I angled over toward the bar, ordered a cold beer and had it halfway down when I spotted Lisa Gordot down at the other end. She sat on a stool against the wall, her fingers curled around the glass so tightly her knuckles showed white and every few seconds her shoulders would tighten with some pent-up emotion. She raised her head a moment and I saw her eyes, filmed and red-rimmed from crying.

Carrying the beer, I walked around the bunch at the bar and came up behind her. “Why the gloom, kitten?”

There was no warmth in her smile; despair had wiped it out. “Morgan,” she said hoarsely, “I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“You were happy when I left you, girl. What’s got you down?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought you’d be leaving.” I finished the beer and slid the glass on the bar top. “You could lose yourself in the rush.”

She answered with a dismal shake of her head. “No use, Morgan. My fat little protector thought of everything.”

“Russo Sabin?”

“My protector,” she nodded slowly. “He has my passport.”

“Money can buy another one. Hell, you can get political asylum in some other country.”

“You touched the sensitive nerve, Morgan. Money. He knew about my winnings. He had it confiscated under a dubious pretext of me being held at the request of another government until my legal status has been cleared. I’m a damn prisoner in this stinking hellhole.”

“Suppose you had a ticket out?”

She picked up her glass, studied it a moment and drained the drink without pause. When she put the glass down she shook her head again. “What good would that do? You think his men aren’t at the airport? They have their orders.”

“There’s got to be some way.”

“I’m afraid not, Morgan. Not until Sabin is finished with me. It isn’t a very pleasant thought at all. I have heard of others who came under his… paternal protection.”

“But if there is a way? Would you take it?”

A glimmer of hope came into her eyes, faded, then brightened again. “Is there?”

“Let me think it out.”

Her hand came out and lay on top of mine. “Why, Morgan?”

“Because I’d like to see that fat little bastard take a fall.”

“Not just for me then?”

“For you too.”

“I pay back my debts, Morgan.”

“No payment expected, Lisa.”

“I’ll insist on it. I can be very persistent. There are things I know that come only to the most fortunate of women and…”

I grinned at her. “Don’t tempt me. Go to your room and stay there until I contact you. If I call I’ll ring once, hang up, wait a minute, then ring again. Make it look like you’re sulking. At least Sabin will understand that. Meanwhile with this hurricane playing around and all the suckers evacuating, there will be plenty to keep him busy.”

“Morgan…” She breathed in so that the swell of her breasts firmed the folds of her dress suggestively. “Thank you. Even if you can’t… arrange things I’ll still be grateful. Anytime.”

The management had posted a hurricane tracking chart on the wall beside the desk, positioning the site of the storm, but optimistically had indicated probable course changes that might follow the path of previous blows that bypassed the island, each of the others traced in various colored lines. There were positive assurances that there was no immediate danger, that buildings were hurricane-proof and storm shelters were available and well stocked. All flights were on schedule if there was any trepidation on the part of the guests, with the airlines confirming extra flights if there was any danger whatsoever.

Maybe nobody but me noticed, but somebody had taken down the ornate brass-bound barometer that formerly occupied the place where the chart was. When I finished reading the report I went to turn around and a chill voice said, “Leaving, Señor Morgan?”

“Ah, Major Turez,” I said. It was the first time I had seen him since he and Carlos Ortega paid us a visit. “No, I’ve weathered out hurricanes before.”

His tight smile meant nothing. “That simplifies matters, señor. Perhaps you have a few minutes?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t.” Then I saw the other two moving in at a minute nod of his head. “Maybe I do at that,” I told him.

“Good.” He waved his hand to one side. “This way please.”

Carlos Ortega was behind the desk, Russo Sabin beside him and four uniformed soldiers stationed impassively beside the two doors of the office. A blue haze of acid cigar smoke hung in the air like smog, coming from the thin black twists in the pair at the desk.

An empty chair was placed in the middle of the room, and the major, looking crisp and efficient, nodded toward it. “Please be seated, Mr. Morgan.”

I wasn’t going to let these slobs fake me out. I didn’t know what the hell they wanted and didn’t much care, so I slouched in the chair and swung one leg over the other. Before they could ask I said, “What’s the pitch? I’m getting a little fed up with all the attention.”

Ortega looked at me, amused, like a wild, vicious cat playing with a moth. There was little subtlety in the man. There was that inborn savageness in him that made him enjoy any excuse to bring it out and now he was liking what he was doing. But I knew what he was after and knew he’d have to stay cool if he expected to get it.

“There is no reason to be defensive, Señor Morgan,” he said. “No accusation has been made against you.”

“Why should there be?”

He turned to face Russo Sabin. “It is that our Director of Police would like to ask you some questions.”

“Go ahead.”

I was a little too calm and flippant to satisfy Sabin. His eyes half closed in his fat face and his little mouth pursed in an unspoken obscenity. Then he said, “You can account for your whereabouts tonight?”

“Sure. If you can’t you got a bunch of nitheads watching me.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

I made a disgusted gesture. “I was in my room enjoying my honeymoon.”

Sabin nodded ponderously, then laced his fingers together and asked smugly, “You can prove this, of course?”

This time I gave him a look of contempt. “Yeah, I had six witnesses watching me consummate my marriage.”

One of the uniformed guards snickered and Ortega withered him with a glance. When he turned back to me his face was rock hard. “This is not a time to make jokes, señor.”

“So who’s joking? The bellboy brought us up supper and champagne, my wife and I had a ball for a few hours, then we came downstairs and dropped some money in the casino.”

“Isn’t that unusual for a honeymooning couple?” Sabin asked.

“There are times when too much can be enough,” I told him. “Anybody who ever had a woman knows that.”

I watched his face get red and his fingers squeeze together.

“What’s this about?” I said.

Sabin didn’t answer me. Instead, he stated, “Earlier you and your wife visited a certain restaurant. There you had supper, spent money lavishly and foolishly and entertained a dancer at your table.”

“Anything wrong with that?”

There was a pause of several seconds, then Sabin bobbed his head again. “Inasmuch as that young lady was found dead a short time ago, yes.”

It was back again, that strange smell of danger. But the peculiar part was, it didn’t come from the faces I was looking at.

Sabin said, “Perhaps you’d like to repeat your conversation.”

“Hell, I was half gassed. My wife chewed me out for even speaking to the broad. Outside of a few compliments I don’t remember what I said.” I shifted in the chair. “You had your men tailing me. Didn’t they tell you what went on?”

“To a point. Your conversation wasn’t audible.”

“Tough,” I told him. “What happened to the broad?”

“Strangled, señor. A most heinous crime.”

I played it as straight as I could. “Well damn right it is, but I don’t see where I come into it.”

Sabin’s face shaped itself into another self-satisfied expression. All of them were watching me now, waiting for any indication that I was lying. “Supposing I tell you that you were seen leaving the hotel at a specified time from an exit normally unknown to guests? Supposing I tell you that you were followed to a taxicab whose number was taken down and whose driver later identified you as a fare he drove to a street not far from the murdered woman’s?”

But I had been through too many interrogations before. I let out a short laugh and looked square into those pig eyes. “Supposing you do, buddy. What am I supposed to say? Whatever happened to the tails you had on me? Who saw all this? And if I set out to see a broad just to knock her off, you think I’d let some taxi driver identify me? Come off it, I’m not that stupid. You try pulling a frame on me to get your hands on forty big fat millions that still belong to the United States Government and I’ll blow a whistle so loud the Navy will park a battleship in your backyard.”

Very softly, Ortega said, “That wouldn’t do you much good, Senor Morgan.”

I got up then and stood there, playing the hand right out to the end. “Maybe not, feller, but you’d get your noses wiped in your own crap. Don’t give me any of your garbage because I won’t take it. I told you once before, this isn’t amateur night in the bingo parlor.”

It was my attitude that did it. I caught the quick scowl that clouded Ortega’s face, then the sudden look of consternation that touched Sabin’s eyes. I said, “Where did you pick up all this junk?”

Sabin was caught off balance and said, “There was a phone call.”

I pushed it just a bit further. “Anonymous, no doubt.” I saw his tongue flick out around his lips and knew I had it. “Big deal, Director of Police. I made a lot of enemies in my time, so now somebody spots me and makes a call Maybe that one was tailing me too, so he bumps a broad and drops it in my lap and you’re idiot enough to go for it. You could use some training in police technique.”

Sabin’s face went red with suppressed rage. “There was the taxi driver, Señor Morgan…”

“Nuts to that too. When does a cabdriver examine his fares at night? Get him here and let him try to make a positive i.d. on me.” I gave him another disgusted look and deliberately spit on the floor. “You guys are wasting your time.” Then I pulled the clincher. “Or is it because I happened to get a little friendly with your girl friend, Director? Lisa Gordot seems to be a woman who can use a friend.”

Russo Sabin seemed to shrink inside himself. He half turned toward Carlos Ortega and saw those eyes watching him blankly with deliberately concealed malice because they thought he was exposing an entire organization through sheer stupidity over a woman.

Casually, Ortega said, “I think that will be all, Señor Sabin.”

The Director of Police was glad to get out of there, but not before he challenged me with one glance of pure hatred that meant it was only the beginning. With a wave of his hand Ortega motioned for the guards and Major Turez to follow him, then he leaned on the desk, his shoulders hunched like an animal anticipating a fight.

“You could be a clever liar, Morgan.”

“Why bother?”

“That’s what bothers me. A man in your situation is in no position to change the status quo. Here you have sanctuary of a sort. Why should you jeopardize it? You have touched Señor Sabin in a sore spot. I have known about the Gordot woman some time now. However, he is a reliable man whose judgment I never before had to question. It seems unlikely that it should be done so now.”

“He wouldn’t be the first guy to tumble over a woman,” I said. “But if it helps matters any, tell him I’m not interested in his broad so keep the heat off me.”

“He will be informed.” He leaned back in his chair and puffed at the cigar, oblivious to the foul smell. “Now, there is another matter.”

“Oh?”

“The matter of forty million dollars you mentioned.”

“I see.”

“Naturally, that is too much for you ever to spend even at discounted rates.”

“Naturally.”

“It is a shame not to see so much fine currency in circulation, especially where it could be useful to a cause.”

“Naturally,” I repeated.

“There are ways for it to be distributed so that everyone could profit with little risk.” He shrugged to emphasize his point. “Of course, this country is autonomous and one can be safe within its confines.”

“As long as it pleases you,” I reminded him.

“Quite right, Señor Morgan,” he said. “And there are forty million ways of pleasing me.” The smile left his face and all that raw power came back. “Then, too, incurring my displeasure means nothing to me, but a great deal to you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do not take too long. To expedite your thinking I have already informed your government that you are within our jurisdiction. We have no extradition agreement with the United States so we are quite capable of either returning you to your country or seeing that you have an unfortunate accident. I am really not impressed with having a battleship parked in my front yard. There would be that eventuality only if they could be sure of having you alive and their money intact with the possibility that they might extract its location from you.”

“Clever,” I said.

“Yes. I think so. I would not take too long to think it over, Morgan. Nor would I try leaving if I were you.”

“Hell, I like it here. Everybody’s so damn friendly.” I turned around and walked to the door, stopping with it half open. “How long do I have to think about it?” I asked him.

“While it is still your choice,” he told me.

I nodded, knowing what he was thinking. What he didn’t realize was that I knew that someplace in Miami he had a man ready to get into that safe-deposit box they had set up for me and when it happened the guy would be nailed cold. It wouldn’t take Ortega too long to figure the deal out and when he did the trap would shut on me, but in the meantime I could stretch things out a little longer.

When I stepped outside and closed the door I started toward the roulette wheel. As I passed the crap table a figure leaned back from the players and Marty Steele said, “You keep lousy company, Winters.” He pointed his head to where Sabin and the others were talking at the desk. While I watched them they finished their conversation and walked to the main doors.

“Don’t I though?”

“Those clowns are rough. If you’re on the con, cut out, friend. They’re worse than the cops in Vegas. They even bugged me some because I came in alone and traveling light and stayed longer than the usual tourist.”

“They didn’t want anything from me,” I said.

His face went into another one of those lopsided smiles that looked like his jaw was out of joint. “Just passing the word. They don’t even like big winners.”

“The hell with them.”

“Me too,” he said, and turned back to the game.

I spotted Kim at the wheel and this time she had a three-inch stack of chips in front of her. She got the message I flashed to her with my eyes, cashed in her chips and followed me out.

We couldn’t take any chances on the room having been bugged again during our absence, so we made small talk, noises like a loving couple, then went into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast while she perched on the edge of the tub and I sat on the lip of the john and explained it to her. I was talking more to myself than to Kim, using her for a sounding board, and she knew it, not interrupting, but letting me get it out of my system.

“They got a call, all right That’s what made Sabin so mad. He can’t figure the angle himself. Nobody knew I was leaving here except Angelo and you and I can’t see him in that picture. That leaves it up to pure coincidence and even that doesn’t smell right. I didn’t bust out fast. I made damn sure I was clear before I went to Rosa Lee’s place. If I was spotted, then it was because somebody was pretty suspicious of my exit and was good enough to follow me without being seen and that isn’t likely of anybody who just happened to be there. That leaves only two other alternatives… that I was seen leaving or somebody was waiting for a move like that. Neither one makes sense. I know I didn’t have a tail on me going out of here and who the hell would be waiting for me to go out like I did?”

“Could somebody have been watching Rosa’s place?” Kim suggested.

“Then how would they get the cab number? No, I was tailed, all right. Somebody followed me as far as Rosa’s and killed her. Putting it on me was only a cover.”

“Sabin didn’t mention you being followed back.”

“No, and that’s a point I want to square away. Go out and call Angelo. Tell him to bring up some more champagne.”

She got on the phone and five minutes later Angelo was in the room with another iced bucket of champagne. When I called him into the bathroom he looked at me oddly, then I asked, “How do you stand with Ortega’s crowd, Angelo?”

“Why not ask me what you intend to ask me, señor?”

Sometimes you have to take a chance. I threw it at him. “A girl named Rosa Lee was killed not long ago.”

His eyes never left mine. “Yes, I know. You were accused.”

“How do you know?”

“Carlos Ortega is not the only one with mechanical ears, senor.”

“Any explanation?”

He shook his head. “At the moment, none. When we find that one, it will be over very slowly for him.”

“You think it was me?”

“I do not think so, señor. Others, they are not so sure. They have asked me the same thing.”

“And…?”

“I told them the same thing.”

“Can you check something out for me?”

“I will be most pleased.”

“There’s a man named Juan Fucilla, a guard at the Rose Castle. I want to find out where he is.”

“Could he be the one?”

“I doubt it.”

“May I ask why you inquire about this one?”

“To see if he’s still alive.”

“Then I can assure you that he is. Before I came up I saw Senor Fucilla on the patio having a drink with one of our more notorious prostitutes. He frequents this establishment often. The woman is one of his favorite companions.”

“Okay, Angelo, thanks.” I didn’t bother to explain any further and he didn’t ask any questions.

After he had left, Kim said, “What was all that?”

I went out, grabbed the bottle and tumbler, then went back to the bathroom. I popped open the champagne and spilled some of it into a glass. “Whoever followed me there didn’t hang around to see Fucilla come in. He knew the direction I had to take back, waited until I had passed him and went back and killed Rosa.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew, kid,” I said.

“She was engaged in antigovernment activities.”

“No, it wasn’t Ortega’s people. They wouldn’t have killed her outright. They would have held her and tried to squeeze the names of the others out of her. This was something else. It ties in with the shot somebody took at us.

Kim’s brow knitted in a frown and she tossed her hair back with a gesture of annoyance. “Perhaps not. If somebody had wanted to kill you, he would have had the chance at Rosa’s house.”

“And maybe he didn’t want to expose himself when there was a better way out. In that case Rosa meant nothing to him except a girl I was with for a while.”

“But who?” Kim insisted.

“Somebody’s been keeping an eye on me. It’s only a feeling I have, but it’s the only one that makes sense.”

“You think they might know why we’re here?”

I waited a minute, then said, “No, it isn’t that at all. At least I hope not. If Rosa made the contact with Art Keefer before she was killed we still might keep this machine in motion. She was the only source of communication with the mainland I have. If it was a simple kill then Sabin wouldn’t have any reason to tear her place apart and come up with the radio transmitter. If politics were involved, then we’re in a spot.”

“I still have my contact left.”

“You’re looking to get us both killed. I was supposed to make the arrangements in and out, remember? All we need is for the Soviets to know we’re taking an extralegal hand in political affairs here and that gives them the right to step in too. With Cuba on the Red side, this area would make a neat little secondary base to plant their operation in.”

“Just the same, we’d better move fast.”

“I intend to,” I told her. “Where’s your passport?”

She gave me a strange look, then reached in her handbag and passed it to me. The name and picture were going to have to be changed and the impressed seal faked, but that shouldn’t be any trouble. I went to the corner of the room, lifted the rug from the matting under it and raked out some of the larger-denomination bills I had stashed there. I took five thousand from the pile, stacked the others into a small sheaf and threw them on the table. “Take care of that,” I said.

Kim watched me carefully, wondering what I was up to. When I pulled my coat on she asked, “Where to now?”

“Favor to a friend. I’m getting Lisa Gordot out of this place.”

Her eyes flashed fire at me, her body tense with anger. “If you think…”

“Can it, sugar. I want Russo Sabin off balance as far as I can get him. The more trouble they have the quicker they’ll tip their hand.”

Only the discipline she had learned at the academy kept her from throwing something at me. I gave her a pleasant little grin, blew a kiss at her and left.

Angelo was glad to do me a service. He photographed Lisa with a Minox camera right in her room, promised a serviceable passport within the next few hours, then left after cautioning me that Senor Sabin had positioned guards at strategic points around the hotel with specific orders to detain either Lisa, Kim or me if any of us attempted to make a break for it.

The look of hope Lisa had evaporated slowly as she sat in the big chair facing me. She had changed into a gown of some shimmering silver material that clung to her with skinlike tenacity, but inside it the vibrant quality of the woman had wilted into the static effect of a mannequin.

Her eyes, dry now, had no luster to them. “There really isn’t much use to try now, is there?”

I plucked the roll of bills from my pocket and handed them to her. “Don’t quit so easily. Busting out of this place won’t be that hard and shaking Sabin’s men can be arranged. You’ll make a plane out of here if you don’t run scared and do what I tell you to. Hell, you’re not dead yet.”

She let me see the tiniest of smiles. “Yes… that’s quite true.”

“And this isn’t the first jam you’ve been in.”

This time her laugh was real. “More true than ever. I wish you’d tell me why you’re doing all this.”

“You’re my diversion, Lisa. You’re going to help split their forces. History records a lot of governments that fell because of a woman.”

“And what do you get out of it, Morgan?”

“If you’re real curious, look me up in some back issue of any newspaper when you have time. It won’t be nice, but it will be interesting. I’m really typecast. Probably the only character who can pull this stunt off.”

“Morgan…” She came out of the chair, the dress making a soft, slithering sound. “Whether you do or not, I’m still appreciative.” Her arms went around my neck and with a provocative motion of her tongue she wet her lips and touched them to my mouth. There was nothing static about her now. Under my hands she quivered and when I kneaded my fingers in the smooth flesh of her shoulders she moaned softly into the kiss, felt for my hand and pressed it against the hard rise of her breast, her body curving forward to flow against my own.

I pushed her away and held her face in my hands. “No, kid.”

Her eyes fought me. “Why?”

“Because we need the tension. We have to stay tight. Relax and it’s dead time.”

“You’re a bastard, Morgan.” But she smiled, knowing what I meant. “I won’t let you get away, you know.”

I nodded. “I know. Someday… another time, another place.”

“But someday soon,” she added.

I shut and locked the door behind me and walked into the suite. The wall radio that had been playing a fast flamenco number suddenly was interrupted to give another optimistic weather report from the local government station, stressing the lack of necessity for anyone making a hurried departure.

She was so nearly motionless that I didn’t notice her at first, sitting at the end of the couch in the shadows. There was something odd about the way she watched me pour a drink, only her eyes following my movements. On top of the glass-covered table in front of her were three five-hundred-dollar bills.

I walked over and stood looking down at her. “What’s bugging you? I wasn’t gone long enough to go the delta-factor route.”

Kim’s eyes never left mine. “We’re back to the X factor again, Morgan.” Her voice was completely frosted. “Look at those bills.”

I frowned, put the glass down and inspected the money. Good solid U.S. currency. “What about them?”

“They’re part of what you left here. Where did you get them?”

“Now how the hell would I know?” I tossed them back, irritated at her manner. “They either came from the bank in Miami or the tables downstairs.”

“You had some of your own funds too, didn’t you?”

“A little. Why?”

“Was it a little, Morgan, or a whole lot? Maybe a whole bundle you could pass over here without being detected?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The serial numbers on those bills match those in that forty-million-dollar robbery you staged.”

“Look…” I started.

She shook her head, her expression cold and accusing. “And I was just beginning to think…” She stood up, stared at me hard and added, “Never mind.”