The Intriguers

xxx.

I was aware of Martha restraining herself from casting a startled-maybe even reproachful-glance in my direction; but it was the only way to handle it. I could never convince them, any more than she'd been able to, that she'd been perfectly honest and idealistic when she led them to her father's supposed hideout on Cutlass Key. It was better to use what they already believed, and build on that.

My guard said sharply, "Are you trying to tell us-"

"Why the hell should I want to hurt your precious Mr. Leonard, if that's who you mean?" I asked.

The man shook his head. "That won't wash, Helm! Just now in your cabin, when she was trying to bring you around, your female accomplice said in so many words that you'd been planning to shoot-"

"Eavesdropping?" I said. "Tsk. Tsk. Tell me, in your outfit do you always tell every junior member of every operational team everything about the team's mission. It must be nice to have so much faith. The fact is, Miss Borden was never informed of the exact purpose of her assignment. Maybe she thought she was setting somebody up for a touch. Maybe it made her feel better, more important, to believe she was part of a desperate assassination squad, instead of just getting a man out of the way for a few hours. If she'd known that, she might have started asking herself-maybe even aloud-why this particular man had to be distracted at this particular time; and that's a question we didn't want being asked by anybody, until our business was all taken care of."

"Then what were you doing up that tree with that big rifle?"

I glanced sourly at the girl beside me, and grimaced. "Under normal circumstances," I said, "using a trained female agent, we'd have let her make her own way clear, or not, however it worked out. Our operatives are supposed to be able to take care of themselves. If they can't, well, we're sorry about that. But in this case we had to use a girl who wasn't an agent, simply because she was the best bait available, the person most likely to be able to sell your M~. Leonard a bill of goods. But she'd had no training, and she happened to be the boss's daughter. Therefore, I was instructed to take whatever steps necessary to make sure she got out okay." I shrugged. "Nepotism, I guess you'd call it. I'm not really in the bodyguard business, but, hell, orders are orders. And we'd have made it, too, if she hadn't got all loused up on port and starboard. Christ, what a time to get nautical. If she'd just stuck to right and left, we'd be home free!"

"But if you didn't want to kill Mr. Leonard-" This was Martha's escort, frowning thoughtfully. "If you weren't really setting him up' for murder, why go to all the trouble-"

"He's here, isn't he?" I said shortly. "He isn't up north tending to business like he should, is he? He's chasing mirages through a lousy Florida swamp, or at least he was all last night. And right now he's wasting time shuffling papers up forward instead of using his brains and trying to find out why somebody wanted him out of circulation early on the morning of June fifteenth. It must be hell working for a stupid man. I feel for you boys, I really do. The gent I take my orders from may not be so photogenic, but at least he's got something between the ears besides a wad of crumpled newspaper clippings telling him what a wonderful guy he..

I'd figured Leonard had sent us back here so he could sneak up and listen to us, and I was right. Now he appeared in the cabin entrance, looking stern and accusing.

"Well!" he snapped. "I hope you gentlemen are having a good time comparing employers."

Our two guards had jumped to their feet. The nearest one, Martha's man, protested quickly, "Sir, we thought it best to let him talk. He claims he wasn't really assigned to murder you, as we assumed."

"I heard what he claims." Leonard laughed scornfully. "What else could he say, having failed to carry out his mission? I've met this beanpole agent before. All his mistakes are always on purpose, to hear him tell it." He looked at me. "You'll have to conic up with a better story than that, Helm. I think you're talking just to keep yourself alive!"

He was perfectly right, but it wasn't really an inspired guess. What else would I be doing under the circumstances? Of course, I was also talking to throw him off guard so I could do the job I'd been sent here for.

I shrugged in a resigned sort of way. "Suit yourself, Mr. Leonard. I'm a hell of a liar. If fact doesn't suit you, I can cook up some real fancy fiction."

He hesitated. Then he said carelessly, "Oh, no let's not strain your imagination any further. Let's stick with your current fairy tale, at least for the present. But let's make it slightly more plausible. Give us some motivation, Helm. Tell us just why you're supposed to have gone to a great deal of trouble-you, and your murderous employer, and all his lackeys and accomplices, not to mention that fine little actress, his daughter-to set an elaborate trap for me, if all the time you were intending to magnanimously spare my life?"

"I told you," I said, mixing a little judicious falsehood with a lot of truth, or what I guessed to be the truth. "Anyway, I told these characters. It wasn't a trap. For various reasons it was essential to get you out of Washington for a day or two, Mr. Leonard; out of Washington and out of easy contact with your key people. My chief knew, of course, that when he went underground you'd keep a sharp eye on his daughter, hoping she'd lead you to him. He simply had her take you on a wild goose chase into darkest Florida, leaving him to carry on undisturbed up north." Leonard tried to interrupt, but I went on without pausing. "Why should we shoot you, Leonard? You're through, but even a discredited Chief of Intelligence can cause a lot of awkward questions if he's found with a bullet hole in him. I think my chief will be willing to settle for your resignation and retirement from public life-that is, of course, if you turn Miss Borden and me loose unharmed."

They were all grinning. As a comic, I was a big success. "My, that's mighty big of Arthur Borden," Leonard said playfully. "You're sure that's all he wants, my resignation and retirement? Oh, and the two of you unharmed, of Course."

I said blandly, "Well, I haven't had a chance to consult him about the details, sir, but I feel he intends to be generous. Of course, you'll never hold another government position as long as you live, but at least you will live." I congratulated myself on getting the lie out with some conviction. I went on, "It's your last chance, Mr. Leonard, assuming that I'm right and he's willing to give it to you. We're getting kind of fed up with you. This is the second time you've inconvenienced us. Most people don't manage it more than once." I pulled my wrists around. "So if you'll just cut us loose now, and give us back our boat-" Leonard nodded slightly. My guard lashed out with his pet Smith amp; Wesson, catching me alongside the head and knocking me against the end of the settee. It showed how much he really knew about revolvers, using one as a club. Half dazed, I felt the blood running down my cheek from a nick in the scalp. Leonard stepped forward to stand over me.

"The trouble with you, Helm," he said coldly, "the big trouble with you is that you've been allowed to get away with your arrogant bluffs so often you think they'll work on anybody. I hate to disillusion you, my man, but you're not pulling it off this time… What is it, Bostrom?"

The man who had hit me said, "Can't you hear it, sir? It's a powerboat. Probably Jernegan coming back."

"Oh."

Leonard stared at me for a moment longer; but the motor sound was approaching rapidly. He squeezed between me and my guard, not the best technique in the world even if my hands were tied, and threw open the glass door leading to the deck aft. The yellow runabout was in sight, dropping off plane as it neared the houseboat. The youth with the yachting cap, apparently named Jernegan, was at the wheel. A gray-haired woman in a blue-flowered dress occupied the other forward seat. As they coasted in to a landing, Leonard hurried forward to help the passenger make the climb to the houseboat's deck while Jernegan secured the boat and climbed aboard under his own power.

"It's a pleasure to have you here, of course, Mrs. Love," I heard Leonard say. "Naturally, when I got your emergency message, I sent the boat right away, but I wish you'd explain-"

"Explain?" the woman snapped. "I want to hear you explain what you're doing way out here in this godforsaken alligator park when I need you, Herbert! Oh, and did you know that your man in Denver, Colorado, just died in a freeway accident? And the fellow in Bangor, Maine, who was going to get me some leverage on that reluctant congressman, keeled over with a fatal heart attack last night? What is going on, Herbert? I thought you said you had everything under control, but when key personnel start dying like that, even accidentally-"

"Mr. Leonard!" It was the voice of the radio operator, calling from up forward. "Mr. Leonard, take a call on the blue phone, please. New Orleans is on the line."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Love."

Leonard came back into the cabin. He threw me an odd, wary glance, picked up one of the telephones on the dinette table, and identified himself. I could hear a male voice speaking rapidly in the receiver, but I couldn't make out the words. Leonard frowned.

"What?" he said. "A crazy man with a couple of guns and a grudge against policemen… What the hell do I care how many Cajun cops got themselves killed by a kamikaze maniac? Oh, you say Jack Westheimer was caught in the crossfire, kind of accidentally He hung up slowly, started to glance my way again, but changed his mind, and called forward. "Martin, get me Bill Frank, in Washington."

We waited. Presently, the light on the blue phone glowed once more. Leonard hesitated, picked it up, spoke, and listened. I saw his face go flat and gray. "In the hospital? Botulism, what the hell is that… Oh. They couldn't save him? I see. Thanks." He put the phone down once more, stood for a moment in thought, and called, "Martin, get me Homer Dunn, in Los Angeles… What?"

"I was just going to tell you, sir. Mr. Dunn's office just called. Mr. Dunn went boating over the weekend and didn't return. They were wondering whether to alert the Coast Guard."

Leonard turned slowly to look at me. There was a kind of scared horror in his eyes, and a burning hate.