Vicky stopped the car, peered out the window, and in the darkness I could see her chewing her lips nervously.
"This is the place," she said. "Pier 77." The dark hull of a freighter loomed up on one side, its cargo booms giant claws reaching up into the night. A low, flat warehouse lined the opposite side of the dock. A half-dozen crates and boxes stood at one edge, alongside the hull of the ship.
"You first," I said. "I'll get out on your side."
"Me?" she said, her voice both fearful and defiant. "Not me, luv. I've done me job. I'm not getting out, not in this creepy place."
"You're getting out," I said, putting one hand behind her back. She looked at me and I could see her eyes were round and wide with fright. What she saw in mine frightened her more. She pulled the door open and swung out of the car. I was right behind her and I'd just straightened up beside her when the shots came, two, maybe three of them. They whizzed past my ear and plunked into the car with a dull thud. Vicky screamed and I threw her to the ground with me. Despite her terror, I saw her squeezing herself under the car. I lay quietly, face down. It had happened too fast for me to see where the shots had come from, except to note that they came from different directions. Only the fact that I had gotten out of the car on Vicky's side and blended in with the dark shape of the car had prevented them from being directly on target. They'd been fractions away from it, as it was. If I tried to get up and run for it they'd ventilate me in seconds. I continued to lie still, still as a dead man.
In a minute, I heard footsteps approaching, one pair of footsteps. They were cautious and competent. I'd been mentally reconstructing what little I'd been able to take in of the spot. The dark hull of the merchantman was closest to me, just beyond the row of packing crates. The footsteps stopped and a hand reached down to turn me over. Certain the other hand would have a gun in it, I let him turn me half over, limply, and then, pressing into the cobblestones of the dock with my heels, I flung myself into a roll, catching him at the ankles with the full weight of my body. His feet were swept out from under him and he toppled forward across me. I heard the gun explode and the high-pitched whine of the bullet as it richocheted off the pavement at close range. Before he could get to his knees I'd reached the row of packing crates and dived behind them. I heard the thud of two more bullets hit the crates, and now I saw that there were two more men, positioned at opposite ends of the dock, three of them in all. I ducked low behind the crates and raced along the dock until I was alongside the gangway ladder running down the side of the merchantman.
I leaped onto it and raced up, a dark blur against the black bulk of the hull. It took them half a minute to zero in on me and then I was a lousy target. Their shots were wild and I vaulted onto the deck. They'd be coming after me, I knew that, too. I was aboard the darkened vessel. I could go down into the hold and hide from them. They might not find me there, but it could also be a certain death trap. I elected to stay out in the open where I could maneuver. I raced up to the bridge and lay flat on my stomach. I hadn't long to wait before the three dark forms came up the gangway ladder and onto the deck. They separated at once, ending my thoughts of gunning them down with a quick burst. I watched one head aft, another to the bow. The third one started to climb up the companionway toward the bridge. I let Hugo drop into my palm and lay flat. The minute his head appeared over the top step he saw me and started to raise his gun hand. But I'd been expecting him and Hugo flew with deadly speed. I heard him gag as the stiletto struck deeply into the side of his neck. He started to topple backwards but I was on my feet, catching him and pulling him onto the bridge. I retrieved Hugo and went down the steps to the main deck. Moving in a crouch, I went forward. The second one was searching behind every boom, every deck winch and ventilator. I managed to move close enough to him so that when he saw me, there was not more than six feet between us. I dived, catching him in a flying tackle, but my objective of silence failed. He got off one shot which, though it missed, exploded deafeningly on the silent vessel. The tackle sent him backwards against a deck cleat, and I heard the grunt of pain. He was bigger than the other one, heavier. I grappled for the gun with him, and as he slid from the cleat it fell away from both of us.
He pushed up against me, his hand pressing into my face. I twisted away and brought a short right around that only grazed his jaw. He tried to roll away but I stayed with him. I could hear the sound of running footsteps approaching. I grabbed an arm and twisted to find he was strong as an ox. He managed to pull away from me and I felt his hands on my throat. I brought a knee into his groin and he let go with a gasp. The other one had come up but, as I'd hoped, couldn't get off a shot at the two dark figures grappling on the deck. I felt his hands grabbing my jacket to pull me away from his friend. I let him and as he lifted me, I caught the other one with a kick that landed right at the point of his jaw. I could feel the jaw give way and he lay still. Twisting backwards and reaching to one side, I gave the newcomer a hip flip that sent him sprawling. He came up with gun in hand but I had Wilhelmina out and ready. She barked once, and he fell sideways over a chock.
I didn't bother to search them. I knew they'd have nothing revealing on them. They had been professionals. Their silent, efficient manner tipped that off. It was over, and that was all I knew. Who sent them, who they were, whether they were involved in the original message to AXE, were unanswered questions. There'd been enough shots fired to bring the London Bobbies or the Thames Division of Scotland Yard, who patrol the waterfront and dock areas. I was starting down the gangway ladder when I saw the small figure emerging from under the Sunbeam. I'd forgotten about little Vicky in the tumult of events. She had the engine coming to life when I reached her, had the car in gear when I got a hand in and snapped off the ignition. I felt her teeth sink into my wrist. It hurt, but instead of tearing away I pressed up against her mouth, snapping her head back. She let go with a cry of pain and I grabbed her dyed blonde hair and shoved her across the seat. I had one hand on her throat and her eyes were beginning to bulge from more than fear.
"Don't kill me," she pleaded. "Oh, Lord, please! I didn't know about thisl I didn't!"