Operation Fireball (5 page)

There was a commingled shuffling of feet followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Let’s see those hands, Slater!” a guard’s voice barked. There was the slam of metal as a barred gate opened and closed. I pictured the detention room and Slater waiting between two locked doors for the guard to let him back into the cell block.

Then the sound died out.

Slater leaned forward and switched off the tape recorder.

“Where was the microphone?” I asked him.

“It was a minimike under my shirt collar.”

“You didn’t trust Erikson?”

“Did I have to give myself any the worst of it? Some of our talks were more complicated. I wanted to listen to him again before I decided he was the one.”

“He seems to think he was the only one.”

“That’s Erikson.”

“How could you get even a miniature recorder inside?”

“A few dollars spread around’ll get you most anything.”

“What about this Erikson? Who are these people both of you refer to? The syndicate?”

“The people who put me on the street.”

Evidently that was all I was going to hear on that subject. “Why is he ex-Navy?”

“Because he likes money. An’ when we split the take from this job, he can buy his own navy.”

The bravado was typical of Slater. I remembered. “You might as well get him up here,” I said. I didn’t see how it could do any harm to listen.

Slater went to the phone and had the bar paged again. “Room 304, Karl.” He chuckled. “Straight goods this time.”

“Introduce me as Earl Drake,” I said when he hung up.

Slater nodded. Neither of us said anything until there was a knock at the door. Slater opened it. “Karl-with-a-K Erikson, Earl Drake”—Slater made the introduction as the Viking entered the room.

Erikson and I shook hands. His hand was twice the size of mine. He had pale blue eyes, and they were itemizing me right down to the corns on my feet. Then the icy-looking blue eyes swung to Slater. “Have you told him?”

“No details.”

The eyes returned to me. “Are you aboard?”

So there it was. “If I have no reservations about where the Spanish is going to be spoken.”

“Cuba.”

“Cuba? There’s a big money touch in
Cuba
?”

“Big,” Slater affirmed. “Havana.”

Erikson began to speak in the manner of a man who has given a lot of thought to his subject. “Six weeks before Castro made his breakout from the Sierra Maestras, a section of the U.S. State Department sent cash to Batista. The money disappeared in the backlash of the revolutionary overthrow. With Castro in the saddle, the U.S. had no hope of recovery even if the State Department or the CIA could find out where it went. In fact, State officially disclaimed that any cash had ever been sent to Batista. Nobody wanted to be pinned with the donkey’s tail of backing a loser. Eventually the money was written off.”

Erikson jerked a thumb at Slater. “At the time, he was working in one of Meyer Lansky’s casinos in Havana. A man in Batista’s cabinet came to a Lansky underling with word of the conveniently available cash. It was hijacked while being transferred in an armored car.”

“You’re talking about what—eight or ten years ago?” I asked Erikson. “That’s a long time. Why should the cash still be there?”

“Because nobody could find it,” Slater answered for him. “If anything happens to me, the bundle will be there till the end of the world.”

“He convinced me,” Erikson said. “Or I wouldn’t be here. He also said that you would advance the stake to finance the recovery.” I didn’t say anything. “We’d assemble in Key West,” Erikson continued. “I’ll get us onto the naval base there and from the base to Guantanamo with forged orders. We’ll break out from Gitmo through the U.S. and Cuban fortifications into the interior and from there make our way to Havana. One member of our group knows a place for us to stay in Havana that he claims is safe. He also has a fast fishing cruiser and a first mate who will make the run from the Keys to the vicinity for our pickup when we have the cash.”

It didn’t sound enthralling. “We fight our way from Guantanamo to Havana through the Cuban army?”

“It should be more subtle than that.” Erikson leaned forward and helped himself to one of Slater’s cigarettes. He tapped it several times on the back of his wrist. His way of talking with his entire attitude indicated a man who had confidence in himself. “Although nobody ever said this project would be a Methodist tea. Slater vouched for you, and I’ll vouch for our fourth man. Slater will—”

“I know you think your pick is prob’ly hell on wheels,” Slater broke in, “but Drake an’ I could find us a fourth man who’d be for real.”

“No,” Erikson said. “My man already has a suitable boat, for one thing. And I’m not about to line myself up one against three on a proposition like this.”

“I still think—” Slater tried again.

“No.” Erikson cut him off with finality.

I found Erikson’s one-against-three remark interesting. I’d been thinking of myself as one against three if I took on the project. Now here was Erikson putting Slater on my side. If Slater stayed lined up permanently on any side, he’d changed from the Slater I knew.

Erikson’s hard blue eyes were upon me again. “About financing the project,” he said. “We’ll need a headquarters in Key West. A deposit on the boat. Arms. Quite a lot of arms and ammunition. Naval uniforms and gear to enable us to play the part while we’re getting to Guantanamo. Cuban uniforms to get us to Havana. A first-class shortwave receiving station in Key West and a first-class backpack transceiver to take with us. Around fifty thousand dollars in working capital, in other words. Do you have the money?”

I didn’t have $5,000. “He always has the money,” Slater answered for me before I could find out what kind of liar I was.

There were still some things I wanted settled. “We’ll be setting up the shortwave receiving station in the Key West headquarters, I take it?” I asked Erikson.

“Not necessarily. It could go in the boat.”

I was beginning to get the shape of an idea. “I’d rather see it on dry land.”

“That would mean another operator if it wasn’t the cruiser’s first mate who was monitoring the channel.”

“I’ll supply the operator.”

“No,” Erikson said. He said no in the manner of a man who has had a lot of practice saying it. “We don’t need—”

“He’s sayin’ he wants someone watchin’ his back while we’re still on the mainland,” Slater interrupted. “Right?” he said to me.

“Right.” I fixed Erikson with as hard a stare as I could manage. “I’d like to make certain that it’s not just my money that gets to Cuba.” Erikson hesitated. “Take it or leave it.”

“I might leave it,” he warned. “I see no reason—” He broke off and started over again. “Let’s sleep on it.” His voice overrode Slater’s when Slater tried to speak. “We’ll meet here again day after tomorrow.”

Slater muttered something under his breath, but I had no objection. I figured that Erikson had his own reason for the adjournment, probably a desire to check me out, if possible. I had no qualms on that score. Mr. Erikson would run into a brick wall. “Day after tomorrow it is,” I said.

“Same time,” Erikson said shortly. He made Slater leave the room first and followed five minutes later himself.

The ex-Navy man evidently didn’t want Slater and me to put our heads together again.

Among the members of the proposed group I’d met so far, the element of trust seemed to be in short supply.

I thought the whole thing over while I went downstairs to dinner.

I didn’t have the cash, and with two fast-knitting but still-broken fingers on my left hand, I had little enthusiasm for making a solo play to get it.

I didn’t have the money, but Hazel did.

I knew that she could run a boat and that she could navigate.

She could learn to operate a shortwave receiver.

With the touchy kind of project this one was apt to turn into, I’d need all the insurance I could get.

If she took any interest at all, Hazel could supply several different kinds of insurance.

I DROVE OUT
to the airport at twelve thirty
A.M
. to pick up Hazel. I stayed in the shadows across a strip of macadam that separated the floodlighted cabstand from the parking lot. When Hazel appeared, I watched for five minutes while she strolled up and down the platform, fending off starters and cabbies. I wanted to be sure she hadn’t been followed. Then I waved to her. She spotted me in the parking lot and crossed the road to join me.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the trip for nothing,” she said as I took her bag from her. She slipped her arm through mine.

“Not a chance. How are things up north?”

“Quiet, except for the sheriff. He’s getting heat from the parents of the kids, so he’s throwing some of it off. He came out to the ranch whining that he was going to send them to talk to me. I told him that if he did, I’d tell them to talk to Ned Higginbotham. Ned’s the undertaker who laid out Gunnar, and Ned had a few things to say about the condition of the body. Nobody ever showed up at the ranch.” She nudged me in the ribs. “How do you like this store-boughten outfit?”

She had on a bright green dress that somehow didn’t clash with her bright red hair. “Too much of it,” I said as I opened the car door for her. She smiled. “You’ll need an alias to use at the hotel while you’re registered.”

“How about Belinda Bigteats?”

“Very appropriate.”

“Why do I need a separate room?” she pouted.

“Because hotels don’t care what kind of an orgy is going on as long as everyone in the orgy is paying for a separate room. You may not even get to see the inside of yours.”

“That sounds better.”

Walking through the lobby of the Aztec, I paused at the entrance to the cocktail lounge. “Want a drink before we go upstairs?”

“Who needs a drink?” she retorted. Her gamin grin was both impertinent and provocative.

She registered as Belinda Mackey, dropped her key into her handbag, and we went upstairs to my room.

We undressed and went to bed.

There was nothing frantic about it.

Nothing frenzied.

It was just slow, and easy, and good.

“How come I got your telephone call so soon?” Hazel inquired sometime later while she sponged off our excesses.

“I figured it was time I put you to work.”

“You haven’t done badly for a starter, horseman.” She dropped down on the bed again, stretched lazily, then sat up and looked at me. “Could that have more than one meaning?”

I answered her question with a question. “How’d you like to shoot fifty thousand of your hard-earned money at the moon?”

“What’s the odds?”

“Ten to one or better. For our end.”

She leaned down over me until her bare breasts tickled my chest. “Money I’ve got coming out of my ears. Which leads to something I’ve wanted to say before—” She hesitated. “Why take on another job at all? We could go anywhere, live anywhere. Do anything. Sit back. Take life easy.”

“Doing what? Touring Tibet? Exploring the Antarctic? Taking a trip around the world? While I sat in cocktail lounges listening to the rust harden on me?”

“Forget I even mentioned it, horseman. When do we leave?”

I patted her arm. “It’s not set up yet, but it’s getting close.” I reached for her and pulled her closer to me. “If it works out, I’ll need someone to watch my back.”

“I’ll watch the front, too.” She was watching it now. Not only watching it but skillfully stimulating it.

“I’d want you to go to Key West and see about buying a bar. Something on the order of the Dixie Pig, only with a few rooms on the second floor.”

She paused in her endeavors. “How long would we need it?”

“Six weeks to two months at the outside.”

“I could lease it for two months. It’s common practice. It protects the new owner against too-enthusiastic reports of receipts by the old owner. But that’s too easy. What do you really want me to do?”

“That’s it. The bar will be the headquarters for the project. Key West isn’t large enough for strangers to move around unnoticed in the off season. There’ll be a shortwave receiver in the back room. You’ll be—”

“I knew there was a catch to it,” she said gloomily. “I’ll be babysitting with the shortwave set while you’re away on the job.”

“I want someone I can trust monitoring that set.” I waited for a moment before continuing. “You realize I’m giving you a fine chance to blow a fast fifty thousand dollars?”

She resumed her uninterrupted labors. “Just tote yourself back to Hazel in one piece and we’ll argue about the fifty thousand later.” Her labors having produced a natural manifestation, she slithered her long length atop me. “At least I’ll be going with you to Key West,” she murmured. She squirmed against me languidly. “Mmm-m-m! Let me be on top this time?”

I let her be on top that time.

I thought fleetingly of Erikson’s and Slater’s reactions when they learned that our land-based operative would be a woman.

It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

And I didn’t want to laugh right that minute because I was afraid I’d spoil Hazel’s rhythm.

• • •

The second meeting with Erikson and Slater started out with Slater doing most of the talking. I’d moved Hazel out into a motel down on the waterfront near the Harbor House. If the project jelled during the meeting, I could put her in motion with a phone call.

I listened to Slater, but I watched Erikson. He returned the compliment. The big blond man sat slightly to one side, continually sizing me up. If his purpose in abruptly adjoining the first meeting had been to run a check on Earl Drake, I knew it must be frustrating him that he had uncovered nothing about Drake. Or about Charlie Gosger, Slater’s onetime acquaintance.

Slater was in good voice. “This team was put together like the Los Angeles Rams front four,” he assured me. “Each guy has somethin’ special to contribute. Chico Wilson owns a boat an’ speaks Spanish. Karl”—he nodded toward Erikson—“is sharp with all kinds of radio and radar, an’ he can produce the kosher-lookin’ forged naval orders that’ll get us to Guantanamo. Plus he’s better’n a green hand in a skirmish.”

Slater grinned at the unsmiling Erikson, then continued. “You were picked because you’re a wizard with a handgun,” he said to me. “An’ because you’ve had practice gettin’ cash out of tight places.”

“A bank?” I said.

“Not a bank, but a place with a lot of the same problems.”

“If I knew something about the problems, I could be doing some planning,” I suggested.

“You’ll know in plenty of time to be doin’ your plannin',” Slater said. “What else?”

“You’ve mentioned this team concept before, but you’ve never mentioned the most important item. What about the split?” Slater looked blank. “If I’m putting up the risk money, I get a bigger slice off the top. Isn’t that elementary?”

Slater glanced at Erikson, who said nothing. The Viking hadn’t uttered a word since muttering an ungracious hello when he entered the room. “Okay,” Slater went on after his momentary hesitation. “There’s four principals, right? We’ll make it a five-way split, an’ you get two shares while the rest of us get one. You pay off the guy you’re bringin’ in from your cut, an’ we’ll all toss in a specified amount to pay off the guy runnin’ the cruiser. How does that sound?”

It sounded as though he had made it up on the spur of the moment. How could Slater and Erikson have gone that far without working out the split? Not that there was anything the matter with the proposal as such. I looked at Erikson sitting in his chair. “I want to hear him say it, too.”

He shifted position before replying. “It sounds all right.” He said it rapidly as though impatient to move on to another subject. “I’d like some assurance from you,” he said to me, “that you’re capable of cutting the mustard on a job like this.”

“I don’t see your pedigree laid out on the table here,” I told him.

“I’ll vouch for both of you to each other,” Slater volunteered. “Could you ask for anything better’n the stamp of my approval?”

His grin did nothing to dispel the tension. “What about this place in Key West?” Erikson said to me. His tone of voice was as sour as his expression. “What’s so special about it?”

I spoke in the present tense as though the lease had already been signed. “It’s a waterfront bar with rooms upstairs. We won’t want to be doing much moving around in public.”

“You own the bar?”

I stretched another point. “The party you’ll be teaching to operate the shortwave radio owns it.”

Erikson grimaced as though reminded of something unpleasant. “I still feel there’s no need to include anyone else in the—”

“That’s the way it is,” I shut him off. “I’m putting more into this than anyone except the man with the boat, and he wants a deposit on it. I want a shortwave radio in the back of the bar and an operator I can trust, or it’s no deal.”

“Let’s meet again tomorrow,” Erikson said shortly.

I could feel anger rising. “What’s going to make tomorrow any different from today?”

He didn’t answer but looked toward Slater. “One more day won’t hurt things,” Slater said, but I could see he said it reluctantly. Slater didn’t welcome the delay any more than I did. “But we can’t ask Drake to hold off indefinitely on this, Karl,” he added.

“Tomorrow is take-it-or-leave-it time,” I said firmly.

“Tomorrow it is,” Erikson said. He rose to his feet, seemingly in a hurry to leave. “Come on, Slater.” He led the way to the door.

Slater silently mouthed the word “bar” to me while Erikson’s back was turned. I nodded. “See you tomorrow,” Slater said to me with a wink as he followed Erikson from the room.

I waited ten minutes before going downstairs to the bar. With that much time to think things over, it struck me that every time we got down to a nuts-and-bolts discussion of the operation, it was Erikson who did most of the talking.

Slater was seated at a corner table. I joined him after making sure Erikson wasn’t in the bar. “Don’t get nervous about things,” Slater said as I sat down. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

“I hear you saying so, but your partner keeps running for the door. How come he has so much to say about it? Who put the package together in the first place? You or Erikson?”

“Now, what kind of a question is that?” Slater’s tone was injured. “How could he even know there was a package to put together till I told him about the cash?”

“Why did you pick Erikson to tell?”

“Because I knew he an’ his people could put me on the street.”

“Didn’t that make headlines? How can you walk around so freely?”

“They don’t have a mug shot of me fresher’n ten years. An’ the fuss when I hit the bricks simmered down in a few days.” Slater reached for his wallet. “Like this, buried at the bottom of page nine.” He handed me a folded-over newspaper clipping.

I unfolded it. “Police admit no leads on escaped prisoner,” the small-sized headline read. “The third escapee in 43 years from Joliet continues to elude federal, state, and local dragnets,” the body of the item continued. “Both the FBI and State Police Captain Gregory Uhl gave assurances today that Winston Slater will shortly—”

I handed back the clipping. It sounded like a thousand others given out by law enforcement types when they had nothing to say but had to say something. “Isn’t it quite a risk carrying that in your wallet? What if you get picked up?”

“I’m not gettin’ picked up,” Slater said positively. “Unless they fold my hands on my chest.”

I came back to the main issue. “How did you know Erikson to approach him?”

“I didn’t. I had a lawyer, a jerk appointed by the court. He was supposed to be seein’ if he could get detainers lifted that were listed against me after I completed my original stretch. Then I had a little trouble inside. I wound up with an extra slug of time that made the original bit look like a jog across the prison compound. So when I knew I wasn’t never gonna make it out on my own, I told the lawyer I had somethin’ to sell an’ for him to find me a buyer. I didn’t even talk to the first two guys he sent in to see me. Then he found Erikson.”

“What made him the man?”

“His connections.”

“I don’t understand that, either. He doesn’t look like a rackets type.”

Slater offered me a cigarette and lit one for himself when I refused. “That’s why he makes them a good man. He can pass anywhere. He’s an ex-lieutenant commander in the Navy who caught it in the neck from Washington when the admiral whose staff he was on in Vietnam was gigged for losin’ a few million gallons of jet fuel.” Slater stopped as a waitress belatedly appeared at our table. “Budweiser for me,” he said.

“Jim Beam on the rocks,” I told the girl.

“You’ve heard how the brass lives in Saigon,” Slater resumed when the waitress went to the bar. “Erikson got a pretty good taste of high livin’ an’ decided he liked it. In the U.S. of A., that takes big money. So here we are, ready to ease into the trenches.”

“It still makes him an amateur on a job like this.”

“This boy is no amateur. Definitely. Positively.”

“Since he came back from Saigon, you mean? What’s his track record?”

“Would you like me to answer as many questions about you that he’s asked me an’ will be askin’ me again?” Slater inquired. “Don’t forget, I’m puttin’ myself in the boat with you guys. Can’t I get through to you that I think you both got it or I wouldn’t do it?”

The waitress brought the drinks to the table. Slater took a pull at his beer but looked wistfully at my Jim Beam. “Seems to me I remember you drinking the hard stuff,” I said.

“Not since I’ve had Erikson livin’ in my hip pocket.” Slater said it with some bitterness. “Oh, he’s probably right—” He sat staring down into his glass.

I shifted ground again. “Why did Erikson postpone a decision until tomorrow?”

“I thought he was ready to pull the trigger,” Slater admitted. “Could be he’s hopin’ another twenty-four hours will give him a handle to use on you.” He rubbed his chin. “You run pretty low to the ground, and from a couple of things he’s said I know it’s corked him that he hasn’t been able to get a real line on you.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s goin’ to be wonderin’ where I am.”