White Cargo

37

“Hey!”

Cat jerked upright.

“You in there?”

Cat gulped. “Yeah. Gimme a few minutes.”

“I put your coffee in there. Don’t let it get cold. I gotta start breakfast for the morning, shift.”

“Thanks.”

The man went away, but Cat was still nervous. He checked his watch: six-thirty. The sun was well up now; no one would question his being out. He slipped off his blazer and trousers and wrapped the shoulder pouch with his two passports and the holster and pistol in the jacket. He opened the door slightly to check the foyer. A man came in the front door and passed through, then all was quiet. Cat stepped into the foyer and walked to the front door. Then, dressed for tennis, with his other clothes bundled under an arm, he left the house and walked toward the tennis courts. Two guards in a golf cart drove past him and waved. He waved back, smiling.

Cat tried to think what might go wrong now. The radio operator’s relief wouldn’t arrive until eight. Even then, he might not be discovered, and the microphones might not be noticed, tucked behind the Zenith. Of course, all might be discovered any minute, but Cat had to base his judgments on what would most likely occur. Say eight. At eight the relief would probably, if not necessarily, discover the taped microphones and/or the operater and sound some sort of alarm. The pilot would be working on the helicopter by eight. All right, eight was the hour. Cat would have to be at the clearing with. Jinx, Meg, and Prince before eight. He walked on.

No, why wait that long? When Prince and Jinx arrive, get them down to the clearing immediately. They’d be there when the pilot arrived. That was it; no waiting. He liked that better.

He arrived at the deserted tennis courts, found a racket and some balls, and started hitting against a backboard. Soon the sun was over the trees. It was going to be a hot day. He was already soaking wet by the time Meg arrived, at ten minutes before seven. He joined her at the table in the little pavilion.

“What’s happened?” she demanded.

“We’re okay so far, I think,” he replied. “Dell’s got his money, and I managed to get a message off to a Colombian airliner. Trouble is, he was moving fast, and I’m not sure how much of it he got.”

“Wasn’t there somebody guarding the radio?”

“Yes, we... subdued him. I don’t think he’ll be discovered before eight. As soon as Prince and Jinx get here, I want to go straight to the helicopter and wait for the pilot.”

“All right. I’m ready when you are.”

There was the sound of a vehicle, and Cat looked up to see a jeep arriving with Prince at the wheel. He was alone.

“Uh-oh,” Meg said.

“Easy, let’s find out what’s happening.”

Prince swung down from the jeep and approached the court. “Good morning,” he called out.

“Morning,” Cat said. “Where’s your partner?”

“She couldn’t get herself out of bed. Too much to drink last night.”

Cat shot a glance at Meg, who looked worried.

“But that’s okay. I wanted to play you some singles, anyway. We seem to be pretty evenly matched.”

“I’m afraid you’ve disappointed my partner,” Cat said.

“I do apologize,” Prince said to Meg. “Maybe tomorrow. Lola doesn’t usually drink so much. She’s been upset about something, I think.”

“I’m all warmed up,” Cat said. “Why don’t you hit a few against the backboard and let me catch my breath for a minute?”

“Okay.” Prince took a racket and some balls and walked onto the court.

“Now what?” Meg asked.

“Let me think a minute,” Cat said, flopping down in the chair beside her. He rubbed the towel through his hair, forcing himself to be calm. All hell was going to break loose around here in a little while, and he had to do something. “Go get her,” he said quietly to Meg. “Their room is upstairs on the left. If there’s a guard, say the Anaconda wants her right away. Get her into some tennis clothes and down here. Get in the jeep; I’ll see you and bring Prince.”

“Seems like the only thing to do,” Meg replied.

“Ready when you are,” Prince called from the court.

Cat got his racket and trotted out onto the court.

“Hey, you guys,” Meg called from courtside, “if you’re depriving me of a game, I’m depriving you of an audience. Get stuffed, both of you!” She got up and left the court.

Cat laughed and waved her off. He spun his racket, and Prince won the serve. “Want to hit a few first?” Cat asked.

“First serve in counts?”

“Fine. I’m ready.”

Prince served a hot ace down the middle of the court.

“You’re not kidding, today, huh?” Cat yelled.

Prince said nothing, but served another ace.

Cat took some deep breaths and tried to settle down. It was hard; he kept thinking of Meg and Jinx. Prince took the first game forty-love. They switched ends, and Cat served. Prince got a racket on it, but it went astray. Cat won the next game forty-fifteen.

The play got more and more serious, and Cat got more and more nervous. He began to get the feeling that there was more at stake for Prince than just the match. There certainly was for himself. He wanted to humiliate the man, but he was having trouble concentrating. Cat tried to empty his mind of everything but the tennis, but it didn’t work. Meg had been gone how long — five minutes? Ten?

They played on for another ten minutes. Cat played for the corners, wanting to run Prince ragged, but the man was in good shape. Cat began to break up the play, hitting short chops when Prince expected line drives, even serving soft when Prince was laying back. Irritation began to show in Prince’s face.

The set went to five-three, and Cat was at match point. He checked his watch: nearly seven-thirty. He looked up and saw Meg and Jinx coming, walking, still a couple of hundred yards away. They were in good time, Cat thought. We can still be at the helicopter well before eight in Prince’s jeep. But he had another minute or so to play tennis.

Cat drew himself up and served a hot one straight at Prince. Prince got a racket on it, and the ball went high and short. Prince, stupidly, continued to the net. As Cat went for the ball, he knew what he was going to do. He got under the ball in mid-court and wound up for a slam as Prince waited, hapless and out of position, at the net. As the ball came down, Cat took a full backswing, and, ignoring the ball, threw his aluminum racket straight at Prince’s head.

Prince caught it full in the face and went down with a short scream.

Cat jumped the net and walked toward him. Prince was on his knees, with his face in his hands, spitting blood and making angry noises. “I believe that’s game, set, and match, you little bastard,” Cat said. He kicked Prince hard in a kidney. Prince screamed again and rolled over. Cat kicked him again.

“I’ll tell you something, Stan,” Cat said, “this is the most fun I’ve ever had on a tennis court.” Prince had struggled to one knee, and Cat hit him in the face as hard as he could. Prince went down like a sack of potatoes and lay, groaning, on the court.

“Easy, Cat,” Meg called from the jeep. “We’re going to need him.”

Cat grabbed Prince by the ponytail and dragged him to the shelter of the pavilion. He got Prince to his feet and shoved him into a chair, struggling to control himself. All the anger and hatred of the man that he had suppressed was boiling up now, and he had to keep himself from killing him until he no longer needed him.

“Let’s go, Cat!” Meg shouted.

Cat looked at his watch. The new man would be coming on duty in the radio room. Meg had taken a long time with Jinx. He threw a towel at the man. “Clean yourself up, Stan,” he said, and reached for his clothes.

Prince dabbed at his ruined mouth with the towel. “I’m going to watch you die for this,” he said. His anger was beginning to overwhelm his pain.

Cat slipped into the shoulder holster, got his jacket on, and drew the silenced pistol. “No, Stan,” he said, “you’re not going to get that chance. And before the day is over, you’re going to wish you were back in the car-wash business.” He drew the pistol and held it at his side.

“How do you know about that?” Prince demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Catledge,” Cat said. “Does that ring a bell?”

Prince looked bewildered for a moment. “But who...” he started to say, then stopped. The penny had dropped.

“That’s right,” Cat said, pointing at the jeep. “I’m her father.”

Prince made to run, but Cat fired a shot into the court ahead of him, and he stopped. The pistol had made only a pffft noise.

“There are fourteen more in the clip,” Cat said. “I’d be happy to put them all into your head if you try that again. Do you believe me?”

Prince nodded.

“All right, let’s get into the jeep,” Cat said. “I’m right behind you.”

Prince, still dabbing the towel at his face, walked to the jeep.

“Into the front passenger seat,” Cat said. “Meg, you drive; Jinx, in the back with me.”

Cat got into the back seat of the jeep, and Jinx climbed in beside him. She looked tired and out of sorts.

“Is it really you?” she asked, suspiciously.

“It’s really me, kitten,” Cat acknowledged. “Are you all right?” His voice was a little shaky.

Jinx drew back and slapped him hard across the face. “You sonofabitch!” she said. “Where the hell have you been?”