The Poisoners

XVIII

I noticed two things immediately upon entering my room. I saw that Charlie Devlin was reclining on one of the beds, in her shirt sleeves-well, blouse sleeves-with her shoes off, talking on the phone. I also spotted my suitcase, that I'd left in a Los Angeles motel, now resting on the luggage stand at the foot of the same bed. I was happy to see it. Not only could I use a clean shirt, but I also needed something hidden in that bag. That is, I would need it if everything worked out the way I hoped, and it wasn't something a conventional-minded lady policeman like Charlie would be apt to have handy.

"Yes, I said a skin diver," she was saying impatiently. "What's the matter, is the connection bad at your end? A man with fins and tanks and a wetsuit… That's right. A skin diver. And he should have some kind of big plastic bags, big enough to hold several gallons, and some kind of adhesive that'll work on painted wood under water. No, I don't know of any, but there must be something; nowadays they've got stuff that'll stick anything to anything anywhere. No, I'm not crazy. We've got plans of the boat, haven't we? They show where the plumbing comes out through the hull, don't they? Well, as soon as Warfel docks, your man will swim down and fasten a bag over each opening so when they pump out the evidence it just stays inside the plastic where we can recover..

Oh, for heaven's sake, you can work out the details with your underwater expert, can't you? You don't really expect me to… Of course the plastic will rip off at high speed! I said to wait until he docks, didn't I? He won't be going anywhere at high speed after that, he won't be going anywhere at all if we do our part… All right, call me back if you have any real problems." She put the phone down and looked at me. "You heard, Matt. Do you think it will work?"

I shrugged. "It sounds a little Mickey-Mousey to me, but that underwater stuff is out of my line. Thanks for having my suitcase brought down."

"It's got to work," she said. "I can't think of any other way… The suitcase? Oh, you're welcome. How did you make out?"

"Make out?" I said. "Are you using the term literally or colloquially?"

She examined me and made a little grimace of distaste. "Now that I look at you, I can see how you made out, colloquially. You have that satisfied-stud look. If I thought all this meant to you was a chance to go to bed with a blond tart in broad daylight-"

I said, "Hush your dirty mouth, Devlin."

She looked surprised. "What's the matter, are you sensitive about your methods? Do you feel guilty about seducing the poor little girl, so to speak, in cold blood? Poor little girl, indeed! That six-foot phony-blond tramp knows how to take care of herself, I'm sure. I wouldn't waste a worry on her, if I were you."

I said, "Charlie, I don't mind that you talk too much, I just object to the way you say all the wrong things; and why the hell can't you fix your stockings so they don't bag at the knees? Other women seem to be able to keep up those nylon combination garments without any trouble at all."

She said stiffly, "If you could keep your eyes off my legs-off any woman's legs-my stockings wouldn't bother you. And I've been just a little too busy making diplomatic arrangements to worry about a few wrinkles in my hose. You still haven't answered my question. Did you find out-"

"I don't know yet," I said. "We should have the word shortly, so leave the phone clear for a few minutes."

"She's going to call you here with the news?"

"One way or the other," I said. "However it goes."

"And if she does give you the information you need, what's the next step?"

"I'll go after them, naturally," I said, rummaging in my suitcase. I threw some clean clothes onto the bed, and opened a trick compartment that yielded a small, flat leather case, the contents of which I began checking carefully. "I'll keep them from interfering with your pet dope smuggler, somehow."

"I've made arrangements with the Mexican authorities." Charlie got off the bed and pulled up her nylon tights, almost unembarrassed this time. Pretty soon she'd be adjusting her brassiere in my presence without a blush. I didn't really know whether or not I looked forward to such an intimate relationship with this girl. She smoothed down her skirt, put her feet into her shoes, and picked up her purse to check her reflection in the mirror, giving me a glimpse of a small revolver that reminded me who she was and who I was and why we were here. She said, "Any help you require, Matt-"

"Are you crazy? The last thing I need, from your viewpoint, is some eager Mexican cops. If they start arresting people, what's to keep them from throwing Warfel in jail along with everybody else? You don't want him in a Mexican jail, I gather; you want him in a U.S. jail."

"Yes, but what makes you think he'll be available for arrest?"

"Well, Sapio and Tillery and Co. must be planning to intercept him somewhere, before he makes the heroin pickup at Bernardo."

"They could be planning to move in on him on the high seas afterwards, while he's sailing north with the dope."

"That's not likely," I said. "They've tipped you off, through me, remember. They can assume that beyond Bernardo our boy is going to be under your surveillance all the way. Isn't he?"

"Well, we've got a plane watch arranged-"

"And Tillery's smart enough to anticipate it. No, he's got some reason to think he can catch Warfel and his boat somewhere else, earlier in the evening. It's the only answer that fits."

"But he wants the laboratory taken care of, you said. And he knows we won't move in on it until we know that Warfel's taken the stuff aboard his boat."

"Won't you? With the Mexican authorities breathing down your neck? They'll play along with you as long as your plan seems to be working, sure, but if you wait until daylight, say, without anything happening-no boat, no pickup-they'll take over the jurisdiction that's rightfully theirs, and clean out this source of infection on Mexican soil, and to hell with Frank Warfel and to hell with you, seсorita. You do have the lab spotted by now, I suppose."

"Yes. It's a big, shabby-looking old house-trailer in a bunch of other ones on the shore, right out in the open behind a tiny village of adobe huts. One store, one gas pump. I must have looked right at that trailer half a dozen times, driving down the highway to Ensenada. They've got a boat and fishing rods and stuff for camouflage, but the foundations gave it away, among other things. Usually they just prop those trailers up on a few cinder blocks, but this is really solid. Of course it's got to be. You don't want to spill any of the reagents employed in the process because your whole laboratory jiggles every time somebody moves. Several would-be heroin refiners have blown themselves sky-high when they got just a little careless." Charlie sighed. "I suppose you're right. We really have no authority here; the local people are just being nice. If Warfel doesn't come, the lab goes out anyway, and with it goes our only chance to discredit-"

"Sure," I said. "So all I've got to do is sneak up on the Tillery contingent while it's sneaking up on the Warfel contingent, and put the former out of action without alerting the latter, letting Warfel proceed about his evening's business undisturbed."

"You make it sound very simple."

"Do I? I don't mean to," I said. "But it can be done, if I can find out where the intercept will take place. And if I'm not harassed by several squads of Mexican constabulary clanking badges and guns at my back. Just tell them to look the other way no matter what happens. That's all the help I'll need. I hope."

"What about communications? How will I know if you've been successful?"

"You'll see Warfel or one of his boys come for the dope at Bernardo, that's how. What's the matter?"

"Why," she said, looking over my shoulder at the small, fitted case I was about to close, "why, that's a hypodermic!"

She sounded as shocked as if she'd spotted a truly obscene object in my hands. I suppose, as a dope-cop, she associated a needle with only one purpose, although she must have had a few legitimate injections in her life.

I said, "They are used for other purposes than shooting happiness into the circulatory system, you know."

"And those little bottles?"

I sighed. "Inquisitive, aren't you? It's really none of your damn business, Charlie, but if you must know, the one marked A kills instantly but is fairly easy to detect. The one marked B is a little slower, but only a biochemical genius who knows what he's looking for and works fast can find it in the body after death. We've been waiting for years for them to develop a single agent to take the place of those two, but there have been bugs in every one they've come up with, so it's been back to the drawing board for the scientific lads… – The one marked C puts the guy to sleep for four hours, more or less, depending upon the dosage. Any more questions?"

"I'm sorry I asked." She was staring at me in a funny, wide-eyed way. She licked her lips. "You really are a pretty horrible person, aren't you?"

I grinned. "That's what I like about you, Charlie, that and the way you've got no sense of humor and admit it, and the way you look so damn tailored and competent, but your nylons are always falling down… No, no, they're okay now. Nice and smooth. I was just speaking in general terms."

She licked her lips once more. "I can see that you're trying to be objectionable, but just what are you trying to say?" -

"Why, that you're such a rewarding person to do things for, sweetheart. Here I'm setting out to tackle at least three violent, armed Mafia characters single-handed, just for you, and you stand there and insult me! Hell, a truly sensitive guy might get discouraged and say to hell with the whole lousy-"

The telephone rang. We looked at each other, silenced by the sudden, jangling noise; then I stepped over and picked it up as it rang again.

"Yes?"

"Matt?" It was Bobbie's voice. "How about buying me a dinner. I've earned it, darling."

"Swell," I said. "The top of the menu to you, with champagne. Just give me a couple of minutes to change my shirt."

"To hell with champagne," she said. "I need something stronger than champagne, and the Mexican bubble-stuff is terrible anyway. I need it right now. I'll meet you in the bar."

"That tough?" I said.

"It wasn't fun. But I don't think he suspected anything, and I think I got the location you wanted. You'd better try to scare up a good map, but don't be long. I… I'm kind of scared to be alone."

The line went dead. I put the phone down and looked at Charlie, who was watching me expectantly.

"Well, she got it, she says," I reported.

"Do you think you can really trust that bitch-"

"Devlin, shut up," I said. "Get me a detailed map of this coast, preferably topographic, while I take a quick shower. And if you can scrounge up a jeep or pickup truck or dune buggy or something, I'd appreciate it. We may hit some roads a little too rough for that rental Supermarket Special I'm driving."

"I don't have a good map, but there's a set of aerial photos we've been working from, over on the bedside table. You can have them; we've got another set." She opened her purse and took out a key and laid it on the photographs. "As for a jeep, I thought you might be wanting one, so I checked. There don't seem to be any available at the moment, but you can take my station wagon-I'll be riding with the Mexican police when I leave. The wagon's got a little more road clearance than a sedan to start with, and the springs are beefed-up for hauling a trailer; it'll go practically anywhere."

"A trailer?" I said, curious. "What kind of a trailer do you pull, Charlie?"

"I keep a horse at a ranch outside L.A. Sometimes I haul it up into the mountains for a trail ride." She hesitated. "I didn't mean to sound catty about the girl-or maybe I did-but has it occurred to you that she could still be working for the syndicate and setting a trap for you? I grant your terrific masculine charm and all that, but isn't it odd she'd change sides so easily?"

I said, "You don't know how easy or hard it was. And whether she's trapping them for me or me for them doesn't really matter, does it? Just so she brings us together, the reasons aren't too important. This Baja California is pretty wild country, the kind of country I'm supposed to be good in, and if I can't handle anything a bunch of city boys dream up, I deserve to be trapped." I winked at her. "Now beat it, unless you want to stick around and scrub my back. And good luck at Bernardo."

She didn't move at once. "Matt," she said slowly, "Matt, please be careful. I really appreciate what you're doing. Although I'm sure you're doing it partly for reasons of your own."

I grinned and watched her pick up her jacket and go out the door, a tall, neat, nice-looking girl with crisp, short hair and a complicated personality that would take some figuring out, if a man decided it was worth the trouble. At the moment, I had other problems considerably more urgent.