The Silencers (15 page)

“Of course.” After a while, she said, “Matt.”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

“Sam Gunther?” I said. “The Cowboy? Yes, if I can find him. That’s my job.” Her silence had an accusing quality, and I said quickly, “I told you from the start that if we were successful in our mission, Sam wasn’t likely to survive it very long.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know...” She shivered. “I didn’t dream... Not until I saw the way you acted with those men, with that hypodermic.”

There was a little silence. I shifted gears as the road steepened and we climbed upwards through the pines.

“It’s all... rather shocking,” she said. “I didn’t know things like this went on, darling. I didn’t know people like you existed.” She hesitated. “I suppose I should be horrified. Maybe I am. Don’t expect too much of me. Just tell me what you want me to do...”

It was a nice touch, a nice offer. I would have liked to think it was sincere. I told her something, hoping it sounded sensible and plausible.

Soon we were over the top of the pass, rolling down the other side towards Ruidoso. Something had been done to the highway since I’d last seen it, but no one had figured out a way to keep the snow from falling on it—or if someone had it didn’t work. It took me a while to find my way through the maze of dirty white mounds and ridges thrown up by shovels and plows at the fancy intersection. Finally I reached the town itself, which is up a side canyon.

Here also changes had been made, for better or worse, depending on whether or not you like your mountain villages modernized. We drove up the main street. There was a good deal of snow and not much light.

Gail licked her lips. “I don’t think I’ll ever drive down a strange street again without looking for a sign saying— There it is.” Her voice didn’t change as she said it.

The buildings themselves were a little off the main street, down in a hollow of pines, but the sign was right at the sidewalk: wigwam lodge. I turned into the driveway and parked the truck with half a dozen other vehicles, most of which had ski racks—some complete with skis—on the roof. Well, it was good weather for it. I got out and walked around to let Gail out, although the chivalrous gesture seemed wasted on the leggy, boyish figure that emerged.

I steadied her as she slipped on the hard-packed snow. There was no wind at this hour of the morning, and it was very silent under the pines. We might have been miles from civilization, instead of a mere thirty yards from the little town’s main street.

“Easy,” I said. “Don’t break a leg now.”

She said, “Matt, I’m scared. And cold.”

I took my little gun out of my pocket. “Here,” I said, “it’s still loaded. Don’t shoot yourself and try not to shoot me, please, but don’t hesitate to use it if you have to. If somebody’s got to be dead, we’d rather it wasn’t us. Well, I don’t have to tell you. You’ve done all right with it so far.”

“What—what do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know, but they’ve already taken one crack at us, up in San Agustin Pass, remember? There’s no doubt that they know us. Well, if they come to us, it’ll save our looking for them.”

She was looking at the little revolver. “Matt, I... Hadn’t you better keep it?”

“Go on, take it. I’ve got a couple more, courtesy of some sick friends. We’re gun-heavy, glamor girl. An armored division would have to be called out to match our firepower.”

She took the little five-shot revolver, tucked it into the top of her pants and smoothed the bulky sweater over it. I looked at her and tried to remember the moment I’d fallen in love with her, but you never know it when it happens. I studied her face, not forgetting that we’d made love, or that she had saved my life, or that there actually was a Wigwam Lodge in Ruidoso, even though there was— or used to be—a gent named Wegmann in Carrizozo... I tried to sort out the valid evidence from the possible coincidences, making allowances for my own suspicious nature, and got absolutely nowhere. I didn’t know.

It was a hell of a time to be standing around in the snow feeling mushy and sentimental about a woman who could be leading me into a trap—who had to lead me into a trap, if I was to do the job I’d come here for. I reached out quickly and did something I’d been wanting to do ever since that style of garment came on the market. She jumped a foot.

“Ouch!”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

I started for the lighted door of the lodge. She came along, reaching back to rub the injured spot. “That isn’t funny,” she said with dignity. “Besides, it’s vulgar. Besides, it hurts.”

“If your bottom were decently attired, my dear,” I said, “it wouldn’t get pinched... Well, here we are.” The skinny blonde kid who opened the door was wearing a quilted robe and flannel pajamas, looked kind of cute even though her hair was in curlers. She called her mother, a stout blonde lady, who arrived in a flannel robe and nightgown. Her hair was in curlers, too, but she’d forgotten how to look cute years ago.

We transacted business at a desk in the big rustic lobby that was littered with ski equipment and had the strange, specialized, incomprehensible atmosphere of a place devoted to a sport you’re not the least bit interested in at the moment. There have been times when the idea of sliding down a hill on a pair of boards seemed very attractive—I’ve done my share of it—but this just wasn’t one of the times.

“I didn’t know you had a ski area here,” I said to the woman.

“Oh, we’ve had a little one for years, sir,” she said, “but now they’re opening a big one up on Sierra Blanca— that’s the big white mountain to the north. Well, I guess everything’s white today, haha, but it stays white all winter. Here’s your key. You’re in Cherokee, the third cabin around to the right. The stove’s turned on and there are extra blankets in the closet. I hope you don’t mind finding your own way. My daughter has a bad cold, and I—”

“That’s all right,” I said. “We’ll find it. Cherokee.”

“I hope you’ll be comfortable, sir. We serve breakfast in the dining room from six-thirty...

I went back across the yard for the suitcases. Gail fell into step beside me as I returned, and we walked together along a shoveled path around the main lodge. After passing a log cabin named Arapahoe and one called Blackfoot, we came to Cherokee. I set the suitcases down, got the key from my pocket and opened the door. It was dark inside. Warm air flowed out to meet me as I picked up the suitcases again and stepped forward.

The lights came on abruptly, and I saw two men facing me. I had seen them both before: Wegmann and Naldi. As I drew back instinctively, a hard object poked me in the back.

“Don’t move!” It was Gail’s voice, breathless and kind of pleading. “I’m sorry, but
please
don’t move, darling.”

Somebody saved me the trouble of making up my mind by stepping out of the nearby bushes and laying a gun-barrel or a sap alongside my head.

When things cleared up again, I was lying on the floor inside the cabin. The door was closed. At least I could feel no cold draft. I was aware that the borrowed firearms— the ones I’d been careful to mention to Gail—had been removed from my possession—which was perfectly all right. I’d never looked upon this as a gun job, anyway. I’d only brought the weapons along as props, to establish my character as a dangerous man bent on a deadly mission. It wouldn’t do for anybody to think I’d come here wanting to be hit over the head.

Despite a throbbing headache, lying there with my eyes closed, I felt kind of happy and peaceful. I suppose, as the victim of cold-blooded treachery, I should have been angry, but hell, I’d practically conned the girl into it, hadn’t I? Now that it had actually happened, I couldn’t develop any strong resentment. It was what we, Mac and I, had planned from the start, wasn’t it? There remained only the question of whether or not she had betrayed me into the right hands.

Her voice reached me from some distance: “You didn’t have to hit him! He wasn’t doing anything! You promised—”

A man’s voice, closer, said, “I was just making sure. After all, you said he was a dangerous—a trained government man sent to get me. They must think I’m real important.” The man laughed as he stepped closer and kicked me casually in the side. “He don’t look very dangerous lying there.”

“Stop it, Sam!” Her voice was cold. “We made a deal. I’ve kept my part, now you keep yours. Go buy a football if you have to kick something.”

Well, there was my answer. It had been a long, long chance, but it had worked.
I think you had better get me Gunther,
Mac had said, and here he was. All I had to do, now, was get him. I opened my eyes.

He was still the movie cowboy in boots, stagged pants and a big light hat. Tonight he was wearing one of those straight, sawed-off saddle-length overcoats that are often worn by ranchers and people who like to be taken for ranchers. In the background, I could see Wegmann, the service-station man, with his freckled country face. He was holding a gun. Dr. Naldi, the seismologist, was also there wearing his bifocals, but unarmed. It seemed like an odd assortment of conspirators, but then, they usually are.

“Up, you!” Gunther said. I got to my feet unsteadily. “All right!” he snapped. “Where are they? We know you’ve got them!”

Wegmann said impatiently, “I still say this is a waste of time. My men have already lined up the equipment, visually. The map and other data Dr. Naldi claims to have copied would have been very useful if delivered in time, but they are no longer necessary.”

“Claims to have—” This was Naldi speaking hotly. “I did copy them, and if you had let me deliver the films to you in Carrizozo, instead of—”

“Dr. Naldi, you may be an expert on earthquakes, but you know very little about undercover work.” Wegmann’s voice and attitude had changed somewhat since he’d sold me gas in Carrizozo. “Your contact in Juarez was Gunther. This was agreed on. For obvious reasons, we could not have your part of the operation connected with mine in any direct way; that was an elementary precaution. As I explained to you when we first made our arrangements, the impression we wished to give, if anything went wrong at your end, was that of simple espionage with the information being smuggled straight out of the country. If everything looked perfectly safe, Gunther could then transmit the films back north for us to use. If it didn’t... Well, it didn’t, so we’ve had to get along without your valuable contribution, doctor. It slipped out of our hands. You should have retained a copy—it would have been easy enough to make—but you didn’t. You very clumsily got yourself suspected, and your information intercepted. It makes one wonder if you really managed to copy the correct documents, and if so whether the photographs were in focus and properly exposed. In any case, it does not matter now.”

“It certainly does matter!” Naldi’s face was white. “To obtain those pictures, I risked my career and my reputation. Risked? As it had turned out, I sacrificed them! And now you try to minimize... I will show you whether I copied the right documents or not!” He turned his head. “Gunther!”

Gunther nodded and turned to me. “All right, where are those films? We know you’ve got them. She told me you brought them along to trap me in some clever, clever way.” I shook my head. He grinned at me, pleased. He wouldn’t have liked it if I’d made it easy. “Well, we’ll just have to do it the hard way, then,” he said. “Strip.”

I didn’t look directly at Gail, but I could see that she was smiling oddly. I sat down on a chair to pull off my boots. Gunther took them and gave them to Naldi who, squinting through his bifocals, examined them carefully. I got up and passed my coat and shirt over for inspection. I dropped my pants and kicked them over. It wasn’t fun, exactly, but when you’ve been searched as often as I have, you come to take it with reasonable equanimity, even in mixed company.

As I straightened up, wearing nothing but socks, shorts and T-shirt, I saw Gail looking me over with a strange kind of intentness.

“All the way!” she murmured. I remembered a nightclub in Juarez and a hotel room in El Paso. “All the way, darling! Take it off!”

All of them were busy going through my clothes— except Wegmann, who was handling the gun department with professional concentration. I watched Gail come up to me deliberately.

“Remember, Matt, darling?” she murmured.

“How could I forget?” I said. “You bring it back so clearly.”

“You laughed at me,” she said. “You ripped my lovely dress off and thought I looked very funny standing there in my furs and... and my foundation garment, like a cheap, leggy pin-up. I promised myself right then that you’d pay for it, no matter what it cost me! I—I had to keep that promise. I couldn’t forget it just because.”

She stopped. “They won’t hurt you,” she said after a moment. “That was part of the deal.”

“Sure.”

She looked me over once more, unsmiling now, but she’d paid for the privilege and she was going to by-God use it. “Dr. Naldi,” she said without turning her head, “I think—I just remembered something. Something he said once. You’d better look at those boots again, closely.” She spoke to me. “Matt.”

“Yes?”

“I
had
to do it. Do you understand? I—I’m a proud woman; I can’t bear to be made to look ridiculous.”

“Sure.” I glanced towards Naldi who was about to do a dissecting job on my boots with a pocket knife. “Never mind the knife,” I said. “No sense wrecking a good pair of boots. What you need is a screwdriver. Take off the right heel.”

Gail smiled. I guess she was remembering herself saying, under very similar circumstances:
Well, I don’t see much point in putting up a losing battle for my girdle and bra.
The past was very strongly with us as we stood there facing each other—the few days of past we’d shared.

“Sarah said Wegmann, didn’t she?” I said. “That’s the guy over there with the gun, the gas-and-oil man? And you went to the filling station and made your deal. That’s where you disappeared to, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I didn’t expect to find Dr. Naldi and Sam there, of course. They were hiding in a storage room with a lot of tires and stuff. They had barely escaped some kind of general security roundup. I guess the men who came to get you at the motel were part of it. We worked it out together. It was Dr. Naldi’s idea that there was bound to be some place called Wigwam somewhere up in this locality with all the motels and summer places, and that Ruidoso does sound very much like Carrizozo if you say it fast.”