Read Online Matt Helm--The Interlopers by Donald Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Donald Hamilton
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on back to her business in Seattle, whatever it is. There was no need for us to take the risk of talking together, or I didn’t think there was. By the time I realized there were
two
guys to identify, she’d got back into her car and driven off.”
I hesitated, frowned, and said, “Well, there’s an obvious way to settle this. How far is it to Seattle? Do you know where she’s staying?”
“She was at the Holiday Inn. At least that’s where I called her, setting it up over the phone. Room twenty-seven.” He hesitated. “It’s a couple of hundred miles to Seattle. But…”
I said, “If Libby gives me the okay, will you condescend to make delivery like you’re supposed to, and let me get on with my route. Or will you just think up a bunch of new reasons for not following orders?”
The dark-faced man called Pete said unhappily: “It’s a long drive, Mr. Stottman, and it’s getting late. Hell, he’s all right, he knows about Miss Meredith, he knows about everything. He’s got to be the right man. Can’t you just turn it over to him and—”
“Nobody’s got to be anything,” said Stottman coldly. “You take care of this stiff, Pete. Take care of it good, and then join me at the Holiday Inn, in Seattle. I’ll ride along with this guy.” His small, suspicious eyes studied my face. “I think he’s bluffing, Pete. I think he’s bluffing like hell.”
The trouble was, he was perfectly right.
8
It took us nearly six hours to reach Seattle. The roads weren’t bad and I could have made it faster if I’d wanted to—the new pickups handle better than a lot of passenger cars—but I wasn’t really in a hurry to get there just so I could have the rug yanked out from under my feet and the boom lowered on my head, to mix a couple of metaphors, if that’s what they were.
We entered the city from the east after crossing a mountain range or two in the dark. I had a hunch we’d missed a lot of beautiful scenery by making the drive at night, but at the moment I had other things to worry about besides picture-postcard views I hadn’t got to see.
The sudden, unexpected emergencies are one thing: you can do nothing about them except deal with them as they come. It’s the ones you see approaching a long way off, the ones that are neither unexpected nor unavoidable, that cause a lot of wear and tear on the mental gears.
In this case, I was obviously walking, or driving, straight into serious trouble. The minute Miss Elizabeth Meredith saw me and opened her mouth, I was dead—well, maybe not instantly, on her motel room rug, but at least as soon as I could be transported from there to a suitably discreet and private place. I wouldn’t even have the satisfaction of getting myself killed by Hans Holz, as we’d planned. Stottman was clearly willing to attend to it personally, and to hell with the imported talent. Mac’s theories in this regard seemed to be springing a few leaks in practice.
The question I had to answer, then, was how far to carry this doomed masquerade, hoping for a miracle. Obviously the safest course was to extract myself from the mess right now, before we ever reached the woman. I could probably handle Stottman at the moment. He was suspicious, but there were undoubtedly some questions on his mind about the correctness of his suspicions; there had to be. It had been a long drive and I’d made no false moves. The chances were good that his guard had slipped a little. Furthermore, he was alone.
If I acted decisively now, before his partner rejoined him, and before his suspicions were confirmed by the Meredith woman, I could probably take him. Later, the job would be a lot harder, perhaps impossible.
On the other hand, I had established contact after a fashion, and I hated to break it now. Making a bluff and backing down on it, I told myself, was bad poker; better to play the hand through. Hell, the woman we were driving to see might slip in the shower and kill herself or drink herself
two
guys to identify, she’d got back into her car and driven off.”
I hesitated, frowned, and said, “Well, there’s an obvious way to settle this. How far is it to Seattle? Do you know where she’s staying?”
“She was at the Holiday Inn. At least that’s where I called her, setting it up over the phone. Room twenty-seven.” He hesitated. “It’s a couple of hundred miles to Seattle. But…”
I said, “If Libby gives me the okay, will you condescend to make delivery like you’re supposed to, and let me get on with my route. Or will you just think up a bunch of new reasons for not following orders?”
The dark-faced man called Pete said unhappily: “It’s a long drive, Mr. Stottman, and it’s getting late. Hell, he’s all right, he knows about Miss Meredith, he knows about everything. He’s got to be the right man. Can’t you just turn it over to him and—”
“Nobody’s got to be anything,” said Stottman coldly. “You take care of this stiff, Pete. Take care of it good, and then join me at the Holiday Inn, in Seattle. I’ll ride along with this guy.” His small, suspicious eyes studied my face. “I think he’s bluffing, Pete. I think he’s bluffing like hell.”
The trouble was, he was perfectly right.
8
It took us nearly six hours to reach Seattle. The roads weren’t bad and I could have made it faster if I’d wanted to—the new pickups handle better than a lot of passenger cars—but I wasn’t really in a hurry to get there just so I could have the rug yanked out from under my feet and the boom lowered on my head, to mix a couple of metaphors, if that’s what they were.
We entered the city from the east after crossing a mountain range or two in the dark. I had a hunch we’d missed a lot of beautiful scenery by making the drive at night, but at the moment I had other things to worry about besides picture-postcard views I hadn’t got to see.
The sudden, unexpected emergencies are one thing: you can do nothing about them except deal with them as they come. It’s the ones you see approaching a long way off, the ones that are neither unexpected nor unavoidable, that cause a lot of wear and tear on the mental gears.
In this case, I was obviously walking, or driving, straight into serious trouble. The minute Miss Elizabeth Meredith saw me and opened her mouth, I was dead—well, maybe not instantly, on her motel room rug, but at least as soon as I could be transported from there to a suitably discreet and private place. I wouldn’t even have the satisfaction of getting myself killed by Hans Holz, as we’d planned. Stottman was clearly willing to attend to it personally, and to hell with the imported talent. Mac’s theories in this regard seemed to be springing a few leaks in practice.
The question I had to answer, then, was how far to carry this doomed masquerade, hoping for a miracle. Obviously the safest course was to extract myself from the mess right now, before we ever reached the woman. I could probably handle Stottman at the moment. He was suspicious, but there were undoubtedly some questions on his mind about the correctness of his suspicions; there had to be. It had been a long drive and I’d made no false moves. The chances were good that his guard had slipped a little. Furthermore, he was alone.
If I acted decisively now, before his partner rejoined him, and before his suspicions were confirmed by the Meredith woman, I could probably take him. Later, the job would be a lot harder, perhaps impossible.
On the other hand, I had established contact after a fashion, and I hated to break it now. Making a bluff and backing down on it, I told myself, was bad poker; better to play the hand through. Hell, the woman we were driving to see might slip in the shower and kill herself or drink herself
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