The Removers

Chapter Seventeen

I KNOCKED on the bedroom door. Beth came out. Behind her, I caught a glimpse of the kid working on herself with comb and brush, in front of the dresser mirror.

"Whom were you calling, Matt?" Beth asked.

"My boss. You met him," I said.

"Oh, the gray-haired man who came out last year and tried to persuade me not to-"

"Yes."

"He wasn't very diplomatic. Everything he told me about… about your work was, well, shocking, to say the least."

"Sure." I found myself wondering just how hard Mac had actually tried to prevent the divorce. After all, reliable help is hard to get these days, and the work isn't suited to a married man with responsibilities.

Beth looked down at her hands, and said in a quite different tone, "I think you know what it's all about, don't you, Matt?"

"What Fredericks wants of the Duke? It wasn't too hard to guess, knowing Fredericks' current business and the Duke's former status and certain other things."

She said, "It was put as a straight business proposition first. Larry was to get a generous percentage for his trouble. Fredericks said he didn't mind paying one of his own men; he was just damned if he was going to be blackmailed by a bunch of… of lousy Greasers. If he did, he said, he'd never get a shipment through again without paying off to some bandit in a big hat. What he wanted was for somebody to go down there and scare the… put the fear of God into them." She studied her hands as if she'd never seen them before. "Larry refused, of course. He's not doing anything like that any more; hasn't been for years. Besides, he says there's nothing as dirty as…as dope."

"Very high-principled of him, I'm sure."

She looked up angrily. "Do you have to keep jeering at him?"

"You don't really expect us to be bosom pals, do you?"

She sighed and looked down again. Obviously she thought it would be nice if we'd be bosom pals, or at least pretend to be, in a civilized manner.

She said, "Then the threats began. And the… incidents. There'd be riders in the hills who didn't belong there. Betsy would wander off for a moment and come back with a lollipop somebody'd given her, although we'd seen nobody around. The boys would go off on horseback, and a couple of agreeable strangers would show them a fascinating trail they'd never seen before. They'd come back quite safe, excited and pleased, but the meaning was clear. It's been… just a nightmare, for weeks."

"Sure," I said. "Well, we'll see if we can't put a stop to it. You go back to the Duke and… what did you say?" She hesitated, and shook her head. I went on: "I want both of you to go back to the ranch and sit tight. Tell the Duke I've got a proposition for him that I think will solve everybody's problems. Tell him I don't think there'll be any immediate trouble, but it would be just as well if he saw his way clear to passing up his afternoon nap, just this once."

"He doesn't take-" She checked herself, flushed, and said mildly, "He's only forty-six, Matt."

"That makes him about as much older than you are as I'm older than the kid in there," I said. "Interesting thought, isn't it? Anyway, tell him to keep his eyes open until I get there. Tell them I hate to intrude on his hospitality after being so politely shown the gate, but I think it's about time we joined forces. Where are the kids?"

"Peter took them to a friend's hunting lodge back in the mountains. Clara's with them-the maid-and our three regular ranch hands. They have guns and know how to shoot. The place can only be reached if you have four-wheel drive or horses. Peter took the Land Rover."

"Well, the opposition apparently has horses available, from what you've said. It's either very good or very bad. If your men are alert, it could be a tough nut to crack, but if anything does happen, you won't know it for hours or even days, since I don't suppose there's a phone up there."

"Peter is to report in every morning at a definite hour." She hesitated. "Larry decided on it last night. He sent them all off early this morning."

"Well, that should give us enough time. Fredericks' real tough bogs are probably from the city. This is a little different from riding around in the bills scaring women and children. Even if he knows the place, it'll take him a little while to mount an efficient wilderness operation for this kind of business."

"That's what Larry had in mind."

I said, "I think I've got it fixed for that mess in there to be cleaned up with no trouble to anybody."

She licked her lips. "I… we're very grateful. It was a dreadful mistake-"

"You can save your gratitude. I wouldn't lift a finger to keep the Duke out of trouble-particularly on a stunt like this-and I don't suppose his record can stand many more contacts with the law, even if he is a respectable rancher these days. But it just happened I wanted the news to go on the air that way, so he gets by with it again." I looked at her for a moment longer. Her color had come back, and she was really quite a nice-looking girl-well, I'd been of that opinion for years. I said, "Well, give my regards to Bwana Simba."

"To whom?"

"Bwana Simba? Oh, that's just what us old Africa hands call the great white hunter, a term of respect, don't you know? I think it means Master Lion, or some similar corn."

"You're being rather childish, aren't you, Matt?"

"Oh, rawther," I said. "Don't begrudge me a few such moments. I'm going to have to grow up fast now. On your way, Mrs. Logan…"

When I came into the bedroom, the kid was well along towards having her hair up. Smooth and bright and neat and adult, it made an interesting contrast with her bare legs and gaudy blue shorts.

She spoke without turning her head. "Who's Eric, baby?"

I glanced towards the phone in the other room. "Some folks have big ears."

"I wasn't eavesdropping. But Fenn called you Eric, in Dad's office, and I've been wondering ever since…" After a moment, she said, "It's a code name, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said, "it's a code name."

"Your code name."

"That's right. My code name. And when I'm Eric, let me tell you, I'm a real bastard."

She grinned at me impishly in the mirror. "You mean, I'll be able to tell the difference?"

But it wasn't the way it had been, and we both knew it. Two people can go off together for a little while, sometimes, and find a secret time and place of their own, but the world is always waiting for them to come back. We were back.

I said, "Throw some stuff into a suitcase. You're moving out of here. Somebody else might have the same bright idea as the Duke, and there's always some danger when a big criminal organization breaks up."

She turned to look at me. "I see. You're moving in on Dad."

"Let's just say I'm moving." After a moment, I said, "I want you safe, kid."

She regarded me steadily for a little longer; then she shrugged her shoulders abruptly. "Okay, if you put it like that…

Five minutes later, we were out of there. It was a risk stopping by the motel, but I wanted the little.38 and some cartridges, as well as a clean shirt. Nothing happened and nobody followed us away.

I made sure of that; then I had her pull up for gas at a filling station. While the attendant was working on the Mercedes, I went over and used the pay phone on the wall. Mac had been on the job. The voice at the other end gave me directions, and said somebody would be there when we arrived. I gave some instructions in return.

When I came back to the car, Moira was sitting in the seat I'd been occupying.

"I thought maybe you'd like to drive it," she said. "It's a little different from that truck of yours. You can give it a real workout if you like. I've got three thousand miles on it; it's all broken in." She waited until I was sitting beside her, and went on, "That's the starter, over there. It's a four-speed shift, all-synchro, and reverse is over-"

I started it up, dropped it into reverse, backed out to clear a car being serviced ahead, and sent the little machine forward, picking up speed through the gears.

"Nuts," the kid said, "you've driven one before. I thought I was giving you a treat."

"Any Mercedes is a treat," I said.

"I heard you talking to Mrs. Logan," she said. "It sounds as if Dad's been giving them a rough time."

"He's a good strategist," I said. "He can see the enemy's weak points clearly. I mean, normally you don't go threatening a man like Duke Logan about his kids, no matter how retired he is. Because what happens is, you get a phone call one night and a gentle British voice says, I say, old chap, if anything should happen to Peter, I'd have to hold you personally responsible, don't you know? It's the natural reaction of anybody trained a certain way. It's what I'd do, and it's what Logan did, I'm sure."

"You sound… you sound as if you and the Duke had a lot in common. Besides a wife."

"Oh, we do," I said. "And don't forget Fenn. He's one of the smoky boys, too, and a good one.

But what I was saying is, Fredericks would know the Duke meant every word of it. Your dad's goons could ride around the hills looking menacing all they wanted to; but the minute they made a real move, your dad would know the Duke wouldn't spend one fraction of a second over the boy. He'd leave that to his crew. Himself, he'd just wind up that fancy Jag of his and head for town with a gun under his arm, and he wouldn't be bluffing one little bit. No, your dad never had a chance of pressuring Logan as long as there was just the boy."

"But I don't see how his getting married changed-"

I said, "The trouble with Logan's countermove, kid, is that like the hydrogen bomb, it's a great deterrent, but when it comes to actual use, it's more or less a one-shot proposition. You can't go charging into town with blood in your eye every time some mysterious stranger hands a baby a lollipop. You've just got to sit out these harassing tactics. Well, the Duke could do it, and his boy probably just thought it was real exciting, like the movies, and my kids are too young to worry about things like that. But Beth isn't what you'd call a real good sitting-it-out type. She's led a sheltered, civilized life until quite recently; her nerves aren't up to this kind of cold warfare. So Fredericks twists the screws, bit by bit, never really stepping over the line far enough to send the Duke on the warpath-but meanwhile the lady of the ranch is slowly going out of her mind with worry, and probably not keeping it a secret from her embattled husband. He can laugh at Fredericks, but if he loves her he can't very well laugh at her."

Moira said, "That makes Dad a real creep, doesn't it? Hitting at a man through a woman."

"Yes," I said, "it sure does."

She glanced at me quickly. Apparently there had been something odd in my voice, of which I hadn't been aware. I dropped the little Mercedes down a gear with a neat job of double-clutching, and sent it charging up the next hill with the tachometer riding the red danger-line. It wasn't the hottest job in the world, but it smoothed out those Nevada back roads in a startling fashion, and stuck like glue in the curves.

The place was well back in the hills. We reached it after following a dirt track and a single telephone wire for a good many miles. It was a small ranch, complete with barns and corrals, but there didn't seem to be any people or livestock around. We pulled up in the dusty yard, and Moira laughed and pulled off the kerchief she'd put on to protect her hair, breathing deeply.

"All right," she said. "I'm convinced. You've driven one before. Let me order seatbelts before the next demonstration, please."

I waited without speaking, with my hand on the gun in my pocket. The front door opened and a youngish man came out. He gave me a certain signal, and I took my hand out of my pocket. I reached back and lifted Moira's suitcase out of the space behind the seats, and helped her out.

As we walked towards the house together; she said, "God, what a dead-looking joint. I hope I won't have to stay here long."

I didn't answer. The man who had greeted us, following my earlier instructions, was at the phone when we came in. I closed the door and put the suitcase down. The man signaled that he had the connection. I turned to look at the kid.

"I made you a promise once," I said.

"A promise?"

"I said that even if the situation should arise, I wouldn't ask you for help." She remembered, and her expression changed, becoming faintly puzzled and wary. I said, "Your dad is coming on the line. He's already a bit worried because of the radio reports saying you're missing. I'm going to talk to him now. I'm not asking you, Moira, I'm telling you: at a certain point in the conversation, you're going to scream. It will be a good, loud, scream. It will convince him I mean business, which I do. You won't be betraying him voluntarily. You'll be screaming simply because you have to. You can remember that, later."

She took a step backwards, her eyes wide and shocked and incredulous. Then I had a painful grip on her arm, and the young man was beckoning me towards the phone, urgently…