Back in Michele’s apartment, he locked the door and stood for a moment smiling at her. She returned his gaze coolly.
“I had a faint hope that you would not look in the cartons,” she said.
“Do you know I damn near didn’t? I could see it was police evidence, the way you said, and blackmail crap is something I wouldn’t know how to handle. But this stuff is as good as cash.”
“Not quite. You need a buyer you can trust.”
“You’re my buyer,” he said. “Not that I better start trusting you this late in the day.”
“I admit I lied to you, but it was necessary. You would never have done it otherwise.”
“How right you are, not for a lousy fifteen G’s. There’s going to be some real heat. If I didn’t have you as a contact, I’d find a nice deserted pier and dump the damn stuff.”
“You would not.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t I?”
He went into the other room for the bourbon and poured himself a drink.
“Nothing for me, I see,” she commented.
He ignored the remark. After tasting the whiskey he sat down where he could watch her, and lit a cigarette. She hooked a stool with her toe and pulled it close enough to the refrigerator so she could perch on it.
“Seriously,” she said.
“OK, I’ll be serious. What can I do with this load, open a store? I’m not in the business, and frankly it scares me. And this buddy of mine with the truck. It’s registered in his right name, and that means we have to get it out of that truck fast. I guess I wouldn’t dump it in the river, at that. I’d dump it in Central Park and set it on fire. If you want it, you’ve got till eleven tonight.”
“What is your price?”
“Five hundred grand.”
Her eyebrows went up, and her lips formed a tiny O.
“And don’t try to beat me down,” he said, blowing out smoke. “I like those nice round numbers. I happen to know how much H is retailing for now per ounce. I made a guess at how many ounces. Ounces, hell. Tons. It’s a fair price. You still ought to clear about a million bucks. That’s OK with me. You have the setup to merchandise it. I don’t.”
She smiled. “You expect me to believe there is no place you would settle between nothing and a half million?”
“There’s an easy way to find out,” Shayne said. “Say no and I won’t have to wait till tonight.”
“Do you know,” she said after a moment, “I think you would actually do it.”
Shayne went on smoking in silence, his eyelids hooded. She said, “If I ask you very nicely, may I have a drink?”
He got a glass, pushed the bottle within her reach and let her pour it herself with her free hand. She tossed it off and thought for a moment. She said decisively, “I suppose my answer must be yes. Unlock me.”
“I don’t have the key.”
She gave him a startled look. “I do not carry half a million dollars in my purse, after all.”
Shayne went on smoking. “You’re the genius. Suggest something.”
“Darling,” she said. “Do you still consider coming to Europe with me?”
Shayne looked at her bleakly. “Why? Before you give me a half million, you want to know if we’re going to end up with a joint checking account?”
She smiled slightly. “Something like that. A joint account-no, that would be going too far. If you wish, you can go somewhere and live like a cinema star until the money is gone. Las Vegas, now there is the logical place. Sit down in a casino with a roll of thousand-dollar bills. The girls will notice you, the police will notice you, the income tax people will notice you. And very soon you will be without money again, if not in prison. Why not change your way of doing these things, darling? You could do worse than throw in with me. It is a practical proposal. The plane is waiting. I do not press you to say for certain. Merely think about it.”
“You go on ahead,” Shayne said with a trace of a grin. “I’ll join you later.”
Now there was a frightened look in her eyes; she clearly wasn’t accustomed to having her proposals rejected. She gave a slight shrug.
“Very well. The money. I promise to pass on your figure, but I can tell you now, a half million dollars on demand is out of the question. Time will have to be given, thirty days at least, so some of the drugs can be sold.”
Shayne shook his head. “It has to be cash. I don’t give a damn how you raise it. That’s your business.”
“Half a million!” she said scornfully. “One hundred thousand, perhaps one twenty-five.” As he made a move to get up, she added hastily, “I act as messenger. How will you make delivery?”
Shayne rubbed the side of his jaw. “I’ll let you know. I’m going to need another truck, to begin with.” A smile spread over his face. “One of those Sanitation jobs-why not? I’ve still got the uniform. The bigger they are, the easier they are to steal. I’ll take a room at that motel we were in yesterday. I want to get a phone call at four, and I do mean on the dot. I don’t insist on small bills, but nothing over a hundred. This buddy of mine is in the building business, and he’s going to get me a blasting cap. You know what they are. I’ll rig it to a jug of gasoline. I know I won’t have time to count the full half million. Even with nothing smaller than hundreds I couldn’t wade through it in less than half an hour. Maybe an hour-I have no idea at all. What I want you to do is have them set it up in ten packages, fifty thousand apiece. I’ll check a couple at random. Now I want you to be sure you’ve got the picture, baby. This Molotov cocktail will be planted in the truck. I’ll carry the detonator in the palm of my hand.” He leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. “Don’t short-count me, kid. Don’t anybody try to jump me. If I so much as smell trouble, if that count is off by more than a few hundred-”
He closed his fist on the glass and it shattered in his hand. He held her eyes for a moment more, and then laughed.
“That’s making a point the hard way.” He threw the pieces of broken glass into the sink. “So long as you remember, that detonator’s going to be the only protection I’ll have.”
“You keep surprising me. That is actually rather intelligent, and I mean to pass it on. I keep coming back to what happens then.”
“Give me a number to call and I’ll tell them to come and get you.”
“I would rather have you come and get me.” Shayne had cut the palm of his hand. He wadded up a dish towel and clenched it in his fist to stop the bleeding. “What kind of a plane have you got?” he said.
“A Jetstar. Captain and navigator.”
“Who’s it registered to?”
“A certain company in Luxembourg. If you have something against Portugal, the captain will drop us off wherever we wish en route. Cuba. The Bahamas. Tangier. If you wish to believe I am thinking primarily of the money, believe it. It may even be true. Does it matter? I am considerably taken with you, my dear. Is absolute trust necessary between two people? Of course not. I keep my eye on you, you keep your eye on me. If we are in bed together much of the time, that will be easy.”
Shayne shook his head admiringly. “Don’t you ever give up? Well, I have the afternoon to think about it.”
“I make progress,” she said. “Come a bit closer. Have you ever made love to a girl chained to a refrigerator?”
Shayne grinned. “How can you think of sex when there’s a half million dollars at stake? And don’t tell me it’s the same thing.”
He went for the phone. It was on a table at the end of the sofa. The cord only stretched as far as the edge of the kitchen area. She reached for it, but there was still a gap of several feet.
“That settles it, surely,” she said. “You will have to cut me loose. There is a hardware store on Amsterdam Avenue where you can get a saw.”
“And then what?” Shayne said. “I don’t have any more handcuffs. Give me the number and I’ll do the talking.”
“No. Because then you could bypass me, and I would be left out in the cold. I must dial the number, at least. In the drawer there, beside the sink. A sharpener for the meat knife.”
Shayne sorted through the drawer and brought out a bone-handled implement with an abrasive surface and a round end. He put the phone on the floor. Michele found that by reaching out at her full stretch, she could fit the end
