“I don’t like it, but very well, we’ll do it.”
The Jew came back. “In the desert, O.K., you’re in charge. But this is the pleasure capital of the world, and I know the ins and outs. I won’t take you into anything risky.”
“What if you’ve guessed wrong and he isn’t outside waiting for you to appear?”
“We’ll try something else.”
5
Shayne’s phone rang several times in the night.
He heard the ringing, but it was far away, as though taking place in somebody else’s dream. On the dot of seven, the phone struck again. This time it partially woke him.
He tried to reach for it but he seemed to be strapped to the bed. Nothing worked as it should. He was off balance and sliding. He lunged with his left hand and knocked the phone off the table. That stopped the insistent ringing. He still had no idea where he was, or why one of his arms was in a cast.
Rolling with difficulty, he sat up.
Scratching sounds came from the floor, as though a family of mice was trapped in the phone. Shayne crumpled and threw away an empty cigarette pack. He got out of bed, supporting the weight of the cast with his left hand. After some clattering and fumbling, he put water on for coffee. He used the bathroom. Then he put his head in a stream of cold water and held it there until he remembered a few of the questions that had been in his mind when he went to sleep.
He towelled himself off, still a long way from normal, and returned to pick up the phone.
“Shayne speaking.”
A long-distance operator asked him to hold for Leonard Dodd. Shayne pinched the bridge of his nose. He was still thinking in categories. Dodd. Washington. State Department.
A voice said, “Apologies, Mike. From the noises I’ve been hearing, I assume we woke you up?”
“I took a pill. I won’t be all the way back until I get some coffee.”
“Then maybe I’d better say my name again. Leonard Dodd. Do you place me?”
“State Department, isn’t it? Give me a minute. A couple of years back, something about forged passports. I seem to remember you were ninety-five percent human. In your department that’s high.”
Dodd laughed. “That was two years ago. My wife tells me I’ve slipped a few points since. Mike, I tried to reach you last night without any luck, and I thought I’d better get started early before you went anywhere. Have you had a call from somebody named Esther Landau?”
“The phone’s been ringing. It didn’t get all the way through.”
“I don’t know when she’s due in-she’ll call from the airport. This is a nice bright Israeli chick, and I’ll give you her name again. Esther Landau. She works for the Shin Bet. That’s like their FBI, but it covers more ground.”
“Never heard of it,” Shayne said. “And I’m not sure I want to right now. Try me again in half an hour.”
“Mike, hang on, please. All I’d like to do is establish her bonafides, and ask you to see her.”
“Does she speak English?”
“With a cute accent. And she’s nice, Mike. Very down to earth, and I think you’ll like her. She was an army lieutenant. That doesn’t mean she’s not totally feminine, if you don’t mind that old-fashioned word. An interesting mixture, and she has an interesting problem, just your kind of thing.”
Shayne breathed in and out slowly. “I’ll be tied up later, I’m not sure for how long. Talk a little slower. Don’t be afraid to say things twice. As I keep saying, I haven’t had coffee yet.”
At the other end of the conversation, Dodd made an effort to slow down, but the pace wasn’t natural to him. In a moment he was speaking as rapidly as before, in staccato bursts.
“The channels on this I won’t go into, but they’re gilt-edged. It carries a high priority, shall we say. The Ambassador put in a personal request, and that’s why I got up so early to make this call. What Esther wanted us to supply was the name of a competent and discreet-and I’ll say that again, discreet — investigator in Miami, with connections to handle an important undercover assignment. The name Michael Shayne sprang to mind. If you’re too busy to take it on, I hope you’ll talk to her and recommend somebody else. The bill comes to us.”
“To the State Department? That must mean you really think it’s important.”
“You’re remembering the trouble you had getting paid. This is different, it’s out of contingency funds and it won’t have to be approved by so many people.”
“I have to talk to the cops about something that happened last night. How pressing is this?”
“Rather. I want her to tell you about it, but maybe I can whet your appetite. Murray Gold.”
“Yeah?” Shayne said slowly. “And she’s from Israel. That’s enough, you’ve hooked me. If she’s a cop why don’t you send her to our cops here and save your department some money? They’re as interested in Murray Gold as I am.”
“If you try hard enough, maybe you can guess why. All right, great. That’s all I want to say on the phone. I won’t tie up your line any longer. She may be trying to get through. Call me if you have any questions.”
The phone rang the instant Shayne put it down. It wasn’t the Israeli woman he had just been told about. It was Rourke.
“Man, are you O.K.? What happened last night?”
“Two or three things. I’m waiting for a call, Tim, but quickly: I saw a guy putting a body in a car and I chased him around for an hour and a half. He finally got away from me. That’s more or less all, except that at one point he bought ten or a dozen stolen submachine guns from a master sergeant at Homestead. I haven’t decided what to do with that. Don’t print it, but if you want to pass it along, go ahead. I’ll be talking to Gentry later. Have you heard anything about Murray Gold in the last couple of weeks?”
“Gold. Now there’s a newsworthy name. Where does he connect?”
“Tim,” Shayne said curtly. “I want the line.”
“Just the usual rumors that he’s been seen. The bondsmen are so anxious to get their hands on him they’re catching at anything. If he really is around, and I doubt it, he has to have a damn good reason. O.K., I’ll hang up,” he said when Shayne made an impatient sound. “But remember your good friend Rourke. Remember I’m in the newspaper business.”
The water was boiling. Shayne made coffee, adding a sizeable dollop of cognac. While he sipped, he watched the local news. He frequently made this program. This morning he made it twice. He listened with no change of expression to several misstatements of fact, no more or less wide of the mark than usual. He poured more coffee and dressed.
His next caller was his daytime mobile operator.
“This is a funny one,” she said. “I have a call from your own car phone.”
“My car’s in the garage downstairs, I hope. That’s where I left it.”
A woman’s voice, speaking quickly: “Mr. Shayne. My name is Landau. I am here in this country from Israel, and I would like to consult you on a matter. I am sorry to say that I believe some men have been following me. It seems I have evaded them, but I decided against using one of those glass cages the phones are in on the street. I persuaded the man to show me your car, and it is from there I am calling. May I tell you the subject I would like to discuss?”
“It’s O.K. Dodd called me from Washington. Come on up. Take the elevator from there. You won’t have to go through the lobby.”
“That was what I intended, but for these people to know I am here in Miami has surprised me completely. Do they also know that I hope for the assistance of Michael Shayne? I would dislike to have our discussion interrupted by gunfire. If you would come down, perhaps I can compress myself into a small space, out of sight, and you will drive us somewhere.”
“O.K., compress yourself,” Shayne said with a smile. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
He finished his loaded coffee. He took cigarettes, a half-filled fifth of cognac, and in case of trouble on the way, a Walther. 38, which he concealed in his sling.
The elevator took him to the basement garage without stopping. His Buick seemed at first to be empty. The woman was on the floor of the front seat, her knees high, a gun in her hand. She was older than she had sounded,
