Free The Revengers by Donald Hamilton Page A

cave!”
    I said quickly, “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have—”
    “No, goddamn it, it’s not all right!” Her voice was fierce. “That’s no way to live, what the hell am I thinking of? I have picked up some hints—”
    “No,” I said. “You really don’t owe me anything, Harriet. The debt runs the other way. I shouldn’t have come.” I got up. “Thanks for the drinks. I’ll be on my way. It’s been nice seeing you.”
    She said harshly, “You goddamn spook, park your ass and listen. Sit down! ” There was a resonance to her voice; the ring of command. I sat down. She said, “I’ll give you a reference and a name; what you do with them is up to you. The reference is COLREGS Rule 18-a-iv. The name is George Winfield Lorca. And I did not give any of that to Miss Brand, why should I stick my neck out for her? But if you want to use it, directly or for trading purposes, be my guest.”
    I asked, “Why should you stick your neck out for me?” She smiled and reached out to touch my lips with a silencing forefinger. “No questions. You got what you came for. Now you can go.”
    There was a hint of challenge in her voice, a go-to-hell inflection that made me look at her sharply. After a long moment I asked, “Did I?”
    “Did you what?”
    “Get what I came for?”
    She drew a long breath, regarding me intently. After a little, she said very softly, “Hey, spook, I think we have a problem.”
    I cleared my throat. “I don’t know about we, but when a skinny seafaring dame in greasy khakis begins to look good to me, I know I have a problem. A skinny seafaring dame who kicked me off her boat with curses when last met.” She smiled slowly. “But who hadn’t been too hard to talk out of her dress and shoes a little earlier.”
    I cleared my throat again. “As I recall, that’s all you were wearing at the time, a dress and shoes.”
    She asked, “Well, how do you want me tonight, quick or pretty?”
    I told her I preferred my ladies gift-wrapped, if that was what she meant and if she truly wished to be my lady. She said for me to have another drink and start the clock when I heard the shower stop, let it run five minutes, and I should be right on target.
    I was.
Chapter 6
    Early morning is usually a good time in the Florida Keys, calm and clear. I slipped out of the double bunk in the wedge-shaped stateroom up in Queenfisher’s bow—the big berth, set at a slant with respect to the boat’s centerline in order to take advantage of the oddly shaped space, pretty well filled the little forward cabin—and carried my clothes up into the deckhouse, leaving her asleep. I couldn’t shave or change into anything clean until I got my suitcase out of the car, so I simply hauled on shorts and pants for the time being. Shoeless and shirtless gents cause no particular comment around a Florida marina; but I had to admit that my torso was kind of fish-belly pale by local standards.
    An early-rising fisherman was heading out of the marina in a small outboard-powered boat; otherwise everything was very quiet as I stepped ashore. The little vessel’s
    V-shaped wake traveled silently across the glassy water of the harbor, but made small, surging, hissing noises when it encountered the sea wall, and sent a ripple of movement through the docked boats. I padded along the sea wall to the pay phone across the road from the lounge and restaurant, now closed and silent. If you want to buy breakfast in that resort, you have to hike or drive up to their coffee shop on the highway; but most of the cabins have kitchen facilities. Waiting for my call to Miami to go through collect, I admired the boats, now lying still once more, and the motionless palms, and the clear blue Florida sky. I hoped for a pelican to appear—the ugliest bird in the world and the most beautiful flyer—but they’re getting scarce down there nowadays and none showed.
    “Eric here,” I said when a voice spoke in my ear. “Report.”
    “The