“Pretty risky,” Devlin observed.

“Not really. Ruiz already knew about him, and they had to confer anyway. They worked out the changes, so she stood a chance of getting away. You know the rest of it, or somebody can fill you in. Later he tried to kill her with morphine. Ruiz was dead by that time, and that would leave nobody alive to testify that Teddy Sparrow wasn’t as much of a clown as he looked. You realize that he shot Ruiz?”

“Did you see him do it?” Berger asked.

“I saw the look on Ruiz’ face when he was hit, and that was when everything started to make sense. I’d seen that same look a little while before, on Crowther’s. They were both surprised and annoyed. Not furious, just annoyed. Crowther knew for an absolute fact that the pistol was loaded with blanks. He’d loaded it himself. And the stupid girl wasn’t standing where he’d told her to stand. Ruiz was looking at another loading platform. There he saw Teddy Sparrow, a little foolish, but a man who sympathized with the revolution, who had helped pull off the great coup of the decade, and the clown was pointing a rifle at him. That was the look of somebody about to be shot by his inside man, and Ruiz didn’t believe it until he fell off the platform.”

“And now that Teddy’s dead,” Devlin said, “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what he got out of it.”

Shayne finished his drink. Setting his glass down, he crossed to the door. Tim Rourke was outside with other reporters and TV people. They closed in around Shayne and began barking questions.

“Mr. Devlin will tell you what happened in a minute,” Shayne said. “Tim, what did you find out?”

Rourke grinned. “All the gold and platinum was owned by private shippers, and their insurance companies were glad to hear from me. You get twenty percent of what you recover, not including anything that turns up in the burned plane.”

“Call them back and say I accept.”

Shayne returned to the office. “We all know Teddy wasn’t in this for political reasons. They paid him off with permission to clean out the maximum security area. I saw a Port Authority vehicle heading for the warehouses. Teddy was probably driving. He loaded the trunk with gold bars and platinum, unloading the spare tire to get more room. I saw the tire later. What was a spare tire doing lying out in the open? I filed it away to think about when I had time.”

“Then where is it now?”

“I drove off in the car, which must have practically killed Teddy. It’s parked next to a mausoleum in the Forest Glade cemetery.”

Devlin and Abe Berger handled the press conference, referring to Shayne several times when they needed further details. Berger was heading back to Washington on the next available plane. Shayne had a moment alone with him before he left.

“Don’t you owe me something, Abe?”

“I wonder. I lost a politician I was supposed to be protecting. I took a full count in front of a hundred million people on ‘live’ television.” Then he understood. “I do owe you something, at that.”

Shayne was standing easily, his face impassive. Berger measured the distance, and swung hard, but he diverted the punch at the last instant, grazing Shayne’s jaw.

“The hell with it,” he said in disgust. “If they fire me, maybe I can get a job as number-two security man at Miami International. I understand there’s an opening.”

Rourke was waiting to talk to Shayne. When the reporter drove off to turn in his story, Shayne went out to the parking lot to pick up his Buick. He was oddly restless. He drove into town, found his radio-telephone and antenna on the floor of Adele’s Chevrolet, and reinstalled them in their usual place.

Checking the connection, he was surprised to get his usual daytime operator.

“Are you still working?”

“Overtime,” she said. “I just listened to the news, Mr. Shayne, and you were magnificent! I think I helped a little, didn’t I?”

“The phone service was very good, as usual. You’ll be hungry when you go off. Would you be interested in a couple of drinks and dinner?”

There was a brief pause.

“You don’t even know my name. What if I’m fat and bowlegged?”

“Are you?”

“Well, no, but if the supervisor ever found out-On the other hand, she’s away for the weekend, isn’t she, and if you’re really serious-”

“Damn right I’m serious. I’d like to talk to somebody normal for a change.”

She hesitated. “I wouldn’t say I was all that normal.”

Shayne laughed. “Where do I meet you?”

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