Read Online Message From Malaga by Helen MacInnes - Free Book Online

looked at it in disbelief. Then he palmed it quickly, raised his hand to his nose, and sniffed the gauze to make sure. He dropped his hand into his trouser pocket. When it came back on to the table, it held only his pack of cigarettes. There was a long pause while he lit a cigarette. Pitt’s black eyes were sparkling with delight. “We’ll talk later,” Torrens said.
    “It’s a job you should have done yourself.” Laner was on the defensive and resented it. “What was the idea, anyway, of letting a pig live in this town, snooping around in comfort? I did you a favour.” He gave Pitt a knowing glance. “One less.”
    “Right on.” Pitt went into a sudden fit of silent laughter.
    “You complacent fools,” Torrens said. “You loose-brained—”
    “Shut it! Cool it, man, cool it. We travelled a long way without your help. We’ll start travelling a long way tomorrow.”Pitt’s low voice was contemptuous, the words spat out in a slow drawl. “Just you get us on board that ship. That’s your job, man. We’ll do ours.”
    Torrens looked at them both. “I said we’d discuss this later.” He smoked his cigarette slowly, stubbed it out thoughtfully. “We leave here as soon as this dance is over.” He made an effort and smiled for both of them. He sat there, controlling his anger, waiting for the final bars of music. Then he rose with the rest of the audience, applauding as enthusiastically as any of them. He signalled to the boy who had waited on their table, paid, applauded some more, then gestured with a nod toward the exit through the wineshop. “Slowly,” he told them, and his voice was pleasant and at ease. “No hurry.”
    Laner and Pitt recovered their cool, followed him leisurely. Pitt looked back at the stage where a new dance was starting. “They call that rhythm?” he asked superciliously. He shook his head pityingly.
    Laner felt good. The Swede had admitted, in his own way, that Laner had been smart; why else all this pleasant talk as they went through the wineshop? Was Torrens only making a smooth exit? Once they reached the street, would he start lecturing again? No, he was talking quietly, but in friendly fashion, about their plans. No questions, no inquisition. Yes, thought Laner, he has accepted what I did. He was impressed, all right. And why not? That was one for their textbooks.
    Torrens halted at the nearest corner. “Well, seeing that we lost our transportation, we’d better look as if we were saying goodbye here. I wonder where that friend of yours went?”
    “The beard? Back to the beach to play his guitar,” Pitt said.
    “Or driving nonstop to Madrid at ninety-miles an hour,”Laner said. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a five-year-old.” But why are we saying goodbye right on this street corner?
    “He had no idea of what you were?” Torrens asked. “It’s dangerous to leave loose threads—”
    “No loose threads. He’s just a spoiled baba,” Laner insisted. “He lost his temper and walked out. That’s always his solution. It’s kind of good to be free of him.”
    “We suffered him a long long way,” Pitt said. “Picked him up at American Express in Madrid.”
    “Why did you pick him up?”
    “Why not, man?” Pitt’s voice had a touch of contempt, disguising his resentment at being questioned. He looked away, studied the distant lights.
    Laner said quickly, “He had a car, he was coming south, he had a nice fat cheque from dear old mom right in his pocket. Good cover, you know. That’s what he was for us.”
    “And you had no idea that he was Reid’s son?” Torrens went on quietly, easily.
    “Never heard of pig Reid until we were driving and singing our way to Málaga. Never saw him until tonight.”
    “And what did young Reid say about his father?”
    “He just dropped a couple of sentences. He had a father who lived in Málaga, worked for the CIA. Big joke.”
    “And he was coming to see his father?”
    “Nah,” Laner said scornfully. “You