Mort took the small cloth bag and opened it. His father was a jeweler and Mort had grown up in the shop, so his was no amateurish guess. “Nine diamonds, seven emeralds, and two of the finest rubies I have ever seen,” he said. “Uncut stones come in duty-free, but these have been cut, and are subject to duty. I’d say they’ll wholesale for around a hundred thousand dollars. Where did you pick up these baubles?”
“I loaned Mr. Fox the camera to shoot those girls water-skiing off Olas Atlas,” Jerry quavered. “They... they must be his.”
“And we’re not going to be a bit surprised when he comes after them, are we?” Mort said softly. “Because he got our address and phone number from me, and he and Mr. Cupp were on the same plane with us!”
“They’re smugglers!” Jerry moaned.
“Wrong,” said Mort. “We’re the smugglers. They are just a nice Beverly Hills investor and his nice attorney, who have been having a nice vacation while inspecting the very nice investment opportunities in Mazatlan. Jerry, we’re in trouble! What are we going to do about it?”
“I think I’ll swallow poison,” said Jerry.
Mort hefted the pouch of jewels. “There’s enough here to keep us for life, most of it in Leavenworth,” he said. “Let’s hunt up the nearest gendarme and cop out, as our fellow criminals put it.”
That expression, “cop out,” must have triggered the creative detonation in Jerry. To throw themselves on official mercy was too simple, also too risky. Because they were, after all, smugglers until they proved otherwise. In Jerry, self-preservation and the creative impulse both pointed to something more dramatic. Mort went along mostly because he had access to the electronic gear, and because, as he said, he was a born schmoe.
“I have to see which way the coin drops, even when it’s my coin and somebody else wins,” he said. “That is a schmoe’s function in life — to call ‘heads’ just as it turns up tails. I have just one request to make.”
“What?” said Jerry.
“Choose somebody else for your cellmate. They say they’ve got a good library at Leavenworth. I’m going to catch up on all the comic books I missed in college, and I don’t want any more of your stupid interruptions.”
That had been three hours ago. The combination living-dining room of their apartment now looked like any other student’s combination living-dining room — a mess. But this mess concealed some of Mart’s favorite wires, which in perfect concealment led through the kitchenette to the dead-end of a back service hall. There Mort had set up his tape recorders and control panel.
“Well,” said Mort, “I hope it works.”
“Of course it will work!” confidently exclaimed Jerry. “They won’t dream we looked in the camera. They’ll give us time to unpack, but they won’t wait too—”
The phone rang.
Mort clawed at his switches, his black eyes lighting up as he beheld the flickering of certain needles. “Give it time to ring a few times,” he yelled. “Don’t want to let ’em think we were sitting here waiting for their call. Besides, I want to check my gain on the ringing signal before you answer.”
Jerry let it ring a few times. He was a little surprised to hear the voice of Mr. Fox, the attorney, instead of that of Mr. Cupp, the nice investor.
“Jerry-boy?” Mr. Fox said gaily. “I’ll bet you’re surprised to hear from me so soon!”
“Not exactly,” said Jerry.
Mr. Fox apparently missed that. “Got a favor I’d like to ask you, keed! My sister here in San Diego had a new baby while I was in Mexico, and I’d like to shoot some pictures. I hate to use that cheap camera of hers. I wonder, Jerry-boy, would it be asking too much to borrow yours again for a couple of hours?”
Mr. Fox’s voice recalled his unappetizing person. He was a small, furtive, dirty-minded man with sandy hair, freckles, and pale, nervously blinking eyes. Witty but not funny, a tab-grabber who never let Jerry or Mort pay for anything, Mr. Fox had been tolerated in Mazatlán only because it was nice Mr. Cupp’s money he was spending.
“Skip the build-up, Mr. Fox,” Jerry said, trying to get the right quaver of fear into his voice. It came quite easily. “I have already looked in the camera.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Fox. “Oh, I see. You say you have already looked in the camera?”
“Yes, and I want to speak to Mr. Cupp.”
“Why, may I ask?”
“That was a dirty trick you played on me, Mr. Fox, and I just don’t think he’d stand for it, that’s why!”
There was a brief hesitation. “Jerry-boy,” Mr. Fox said, “unfortunately, Mr. Cupp was detained a while by the customs officers. They searched his baggage again and again, and of course couldn’t find anything. But they were still trying when I left, so it will probably be a little while before we can reach Mr. Cupp. Meanwhile, you understand it’s urgent that you and I get together. I’ll admit frankly that I played a dirty trick on you, but I’m going to make up for it.”
“How?”
“Jerry-boy, I’m going to bring you two of the fattest little old hundred-dollar bills you ever saw, when I come out there to see you.”
“Only you’re not coming to see me,” said Jerry. “Not without Mr. Cupp.”
“Jerry-boy, listen to reason!” Mr. Fox cried. “Barney Cupp is a respectable, honest businessman and I’m a dirty, rotten, double-crossing heel. Now I’ve made a mistake, a serious mistake, perhaps. But I’m going to make up for it to you. Why involve Barney in what I did?”
“All right then, I’m going to go to a policeman I know. He gave me a traffic ticket once, but—”
“Jerry-boy, think of Barney Cupp! Why bring in some cop who is not only an ignorant slob, but a thief besides?” Mr. Fox’s voice fell half an octave. “I don’t like to frighten you, keed, but think! Are you in any position to go to a slob of a policeman? If you like Mr. Cupp, and you value your own well-being, you’re not going to be so foolish, are you?”
“Mr. Fox, either I see Mr. Cupp or I go to a policeman.”
“Jerry-boy, I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Mr. Fox said softly. “I’m sure you realize it would be about the most dangerous thing you could do!”
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t threaten me if Mr. Cupp could hear you!” Jerry almost shouted. Then in a whimpering voice he went on, “Let’s cut this short, Mr. Fox. I’ve never been in any trouble like this before, and it makes me nervous. I don’t want to talk to you any more until I’ve seen Mr. Cupp!”
“Barney isn’t available yet. But if I know him, he’ll tell you to take my advice. Meanwhile, you have every right to be nervous. Suppose I make it three hundred bucks?”
“No!”
“How about five? Does five suit you, Jerry-boy?”
“No. Listen, Mr. Fox. I’m getting out of here right now!”
“Shut up and listen to me.” Mr. Fox’s voice was suddenly as frigidly poisonous as quick-frozen cobra venom. “If you must see Barney, I’m sure we can get together later this evening. Meanwhile, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to that camera package, and I don’t believe you do either. It wouldn’t be healthy for you, see, keed? Stop being childish! Leave there? Where would you go?”
“I’ll quit school. I’ll mail the jewels to the police and go to... to Hawaii. Or Alaska.”
“Jerry-boy, there is no place on earth you can hide if you double-cross me. Barney Cupp is a gentleman, but he can’t stand a dirty, cowardly rat either. Now, why can’t you and I get together on a friendly basis, without bothering him?”
“No, sir!” Jerry shouted. “Listen, this is final. I’ll be here at eight this evening, with the package from the camera, and you and Mr. Cupp can both come then. Both of you, you understand? Because if it’s just you, I won’t even open the door, and there’s no use coming before then because I’m leaving right now!”