When I finished he whistled through his teeth, grimacing. “You can’t leave those bodies out there.”
“I’m not going to get tied down making big explanations yet. That’s all we need to blow the act.”
“Okay, it’s your baby. Check their ID?”
“Nothing there. The usual assortment of junk that would have been faked. When the police get to them they’ll check out the specifics. At the moment they can’t help one way or another.”
“So who’s on the hook?”
I grinned at him slowly. “That’s where my ‘official’ status gives me a degree of immunity, buddy. Self defense in the line of duty. I’m not worrying about the future. You call in to Newark and let them sweat it out.”
“You sure like to take chances, kiddo,” Dave said.
“What’s it like in town?”
“Crowded,” he told me. “More are coming in all the time. They’re not the tourist types. It’s worse than Los Alamos when the Manhattan Project was in full swing. I hear a dozen people have been rounded up on general charges and are being held incommunicado in a government depot until the air clears. The hustlers saw them coming and cleared out overnight. You can’t even find a bookie in town.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What’s with the package?” Dave asked.
I opened the wrapping and took the top off the box inside. A pair of finger-length inhalers made of white plastic bearing the Bezex label were nestled inside with Ernie’s note on top of them. I looked at the addresses he delivered the real things to, then went over his explanation of how he had cut their effectiveness in half. If anybody used them they’d be needing another in a hurry. I peeled off the cellophane wrapper from one of the deadly little containers, remembering the way Ernie used to look when he read one of the reports, thinking we were the hard cases. Hell, he was in a class by himself. He invented death and we just pushed the buttons. What he didn’t invent was the way I could pull the switch on Niger Hoppes, hoping it was Hoppes who got the cyanide capsule and not some poor slob who didn’t deserve a killer’s death. The best idea he offered was spotting the samples around. I dropped the capsule in my coat pocket and put the other one in my shaving kit, then handed Dave the list of stores that would have the Bezex.
I said, “Check with the owners of these places and get a description of anyone who buys the things. As far as they’re concerned, you’re a follow-up representative for the company and make it look good.”
“And if there’s a contact?”
“Cover it. Stay with him out of sight and get to me through Charlie Corbinet. I won’t check in around here at all. It’s better if I keep moving. Just don’t close in on the guy unless you have help.”
“Hell, Tiger, I’ve handled them before.”
“This is a top gun, buddy. Your action has been investigative more than trigger jobs. If you get that close and you’re sure of your man, don’t take a chance. Kill him.”
“No talk?”
“No talk,” I repeated. “There isn’t time for it. We want Agrounsky, not Niger Hoppes. He’s only an obstacle.”
Dave lit a smoke and smiled at me across the room. “You guys are like fighter pilots during the war. One of you has to be eliminated so the bombers can either get through or be shot down.”
“So let’s keep the odds on our side,” I said. “What are you packing?”
“A .38 and a shiv on my leg.”
“Remember your training.”
“How could I ever forget it?” He laughed. “Take care, Tiger. You’re the real target.” He went out, shutting the door quietly, and I heard his car start up and drive off. I piled all my loose clothes into a laundry bag, threw them in the back seat of my own car and hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door of my room. I didn’t want any cleaning woman coming in and finding that hole in the closet and the chipped brick from the wall just yet. There was time enough for that when somebody stumbled over the bodies in the palm grove.
I rapped on Camille’s door three times before I heard her stir. She came awake slowly, got out of bed and walked across to open the door and peer at me through the opening. I got a sleepy smile and stepped inside. She had my shirt on, clutching it shut at the middle.
“You left me,” she accused.
“The way you were sleeping I didn’t want to bother you.” She tucked her head against my shoulder a moment, then looked up at me. “It’s my fault, really,” she said. “After seeing... that man, well, I took a couple of sleeping pills and on top of the excitement I sort of faded out.” Her nose crinkled and she stifled a sneeze. Her eyes had a watery glaze and I could hear a wheezing as she talked.
“Forget it. You needed it.”
“Has... anything happened?”
“Plenty. You slept through it all.”
“Can you...?”
I knew what she was going to say and shook my head. “Get dressed. We’re moving out.”
Without another word she nodded and turned back to take her clothes off the hangers in the closet. Outside, the rain hammered down and from afar off there was a majestic rumble of thunder as the storm paraded by over the state.
Camille went into the bathroom to dress and I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her to finish. Beside her handbag on the night table was a packet with the top torn off, a prescription issued to her from a New York pharmacy with the instructions to take one or two capsules before bedtime. Idly, I flicked the ten remaining from the original dozen back in the envelope and stuck it in her bag.
And outside the world churned in utter anxiety, stirred by contemptuous nature who laughed gleefully at the pitiful efforts being made to emulate her strength and fury.
Outside was a killer and a team behind him checking and double checking, following every lead, hard on each trail that would take them to the ultimate survival factor.
Someplace out there Agrounsky was still sitting, coming to his decision, and sooner or later something or someone was going to make it for him. With all the deviousness of a warped mind, he had chosen his place well. He had left no track, no trace. The hungry animal of embittered philosophy had commandeered a genius’ mind and guided it to where it could do the most damage. Now it just sat and ate away at the vital parts until it was self-consumed by its own destructiveness.
I picked up the phone and dialed Vincent Small’s number. It rang a half dozen times before a querulous voice said, “Hello?”
“Small?”
“Yes, this is he.”
“Mann, Vincent. You alone?”
“Quite. There are... policemen outside.”
“Everything all right?”
There was a hesitation before he said, “Yes. I’m all right.”
My voice felt tight and edgy. “Talk to me, friend.”
“There’s nothing really. It’s just that...”
“Well?”
He sounded tired, all the jubilance he’d had when we first met gone from him now. “I... you remember how we asked the realtors about Louis possibly buying a place somewhere?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“I don’t know. One of them called last night. He said there was another man asking the same thing.”
“Local?”
“No... a stranger. He only called because he wanted to locate Louis if he was interested in property. He had a few sites available.”
“Any description?”
“Very vague, that’s all. The man had on dark glasses and, well... it was raining out and he had on a slicker with a hat pulled down low so he really didn’t get a good look at him.”
“Then why are you scared?” I asked deliberately.