IN A WHILE WE ROUNDED the last point before the villa and I started bringing us closer in. I came in as close as I dared. Only a few yards from us now, the sea swell heaved and dropped and smacked ponderously against the rocks. We were close in enough to catch some of the spray.
“I’m going to run her straight in,” I told Sonny as I jockeyed the boat. “I’m counting on the fact that nobody will be down at the cove. The launch from Agoraphobe is at the harbor. The two guys are going to be working down in the lab in the cellar. Kirk wouldn’t go down to the cove anyway.”
I was beginning to get my combative feeling. There was a battening-down process that came with any competitive physical event. It was the feeling a player got before a game. Or a fighter before a fight. Or a pianist before a recital. Wherever something important was at stake. All your sensories got screwed down tight and hard, into concentrated essences.
The feeling was more than mildly unpleasant. But the excitement vivified you more than the unpleasantness made you suffer. It could get to be like dope. Unless you had an iron will. I wanted to whistle.
Right then, I wouldn’t have traded my profession for anybody else’s on earth. I was going to get my killer. Sure as anything.
Where we were they could not possibly see us from the villa on the bluff. I was sure they couldn’t hear us, either. And at this time of day the wind was blowing toward us from the northwest, in addition.
At the narrow entrance I made the sharp turn, and cut my motor immediately as soon as I was around. We glided in in silence.
There was nobody there. As I’d predicted. Silence surrounded us like cotton wool. Outside, the sea still hammered faintly at the rocks. Up the bluff a couple of birds sang. The Polaris lay moored at one of the docks. Her bumpers squeaked against her hull. The water lapped against her.
“Grab her rail,” I called in a low voice as we drifted to her. Sonny grabbed, and at the stern I grabbed. We made fast to her and then sneaked out over her to the concrete dock.
I motioned Sonny to come on to the long staircase up.
“Now don’t shoot me in the ass with that thing,” I muttered.
Once we were on the long staircase, we went up it fast. We made no noise in the sneakers I’d had us wear. I paused at the top. Nothing moved. Nothing was visible. The villa seemed deserted, if anything. We crossed the patio at a slow run.
When we were safe against a wall, I told Sonny to wait there, and went around to the back where the outdoor cellar was. I listened down the slanting stairs. I could hear the two men working and talking. A faint odor of heat came up. Silently I closed and barred the double doors. I waited a moment to make sure they hadn’t heard, then sneaked back around to Sonny.
Nothing had moved. Nothing had stirred. Inside, or out. The high French doors of the villa were not only unlocked. They were wide open to the afternoon breeze. I motioned Sonny to stand by the door.
“You cover me from behind,” I said in a low voice. “I don’t know where he’ll be. But for God’s sake don’t shoot that thing in my direction. Don’t shoot it at all unless you absolutely have to. If you have to shoot somebody, shoot them in the leg.”
I slid over to the open door and leaned against the wall beside the sill. While I gathered myself, I realized momentarily that I was enjoying myself immensely. I was loving every second.
I moved my head and winked at Sonny, and came out from behind the wall and put a foot over the sill. I went in in a crouch.
It was a lovely old villa, both outside and in, if a little run down. It was built like they built them at the turn of the century, when they still believed in things lasting. When planned obsolescence was not a concept. The big front room had tall French doors, and high windows above them, on the three sides that faced the sea. The old-looking curtains were blowing in the sea breeze like loose sails. The fourth wall, equally high, had a balcony that ran across it and gave access to some rooms, the bedrooms I guessed.
Around the corner of the main room was a pantry, I moved a step so I could see around the corner. Deep in the pantry Jim Kirk was standing before a refrigerator, concentratedly drinking a bottle of beer. The funny thing was he was in his underwear, and his socks.
The underwear was some kind of fancy flowered boxer shorts. The socks were ordinary sweat socks but they sagged badly. He had no shirt on. Also, his hair was rumpled. Beside him on a plastic tray were two more bottles fresh from the icebox with moisture beaded on them in the heat, and two glasses that looked like they’d been chilled in the icebox too. Kirk looked as if he had just gotten out of bed upstairs with Jane Duval, and had come down to get them some refreshment before going back.
Also on the tray was a large Smith & Wesson revolver. I guessed, because he had no place else on him to carry it.
I didn’t know why, being an old sea captain, he was in his socks. You would have thought he’d be used to going barefoot on deck. But maybe he always went to bed with ladies in his socks. I didn’t know very much about him, really.
He was so concentratedly drinking his beer he had no idea I was there. But then I could be pretty quiet, when I had to.
“Okay, Kirk,” I said. “Finish your beer. But then turn this way and come out of there with your hands on your head. Whatever you do, don’t touch that tray.”
He stopped swallowing and slowly untilted the bottle. He turned his head. He set the bottle on top of the refrigerator. “What the hell?” he said. But he came out with his hands laced on his head.
“All right, Sonny,” I said. “Come on in.”
I listened to his footsteps coming in. He certainly wasn’t as quiet as me. “Keep your gun on him,” I said.
“What the hell is this?” Kirk said.
“Where’s Jane?” I said.
“She’s upstairs. Now, what do you want?” He grinned. “You didn’t have to come with a gun. And what’s he doing here?”
He was no panicker, Kirk. He was an old hand. He had probably had guns pulled on him a lot more than once. But this time he had a right to look puzzled. Because, this time at least, I knew he was innocent.
I didn’t answer his question. “You better call her down,” I said.
“Fine,” Kirk said. He bellowed. “Jane!”
From upstairs there was no answer, no movement.
“I’m sorry about this part, Sonny,” I said. “But I had to do something to keep him occupied. It was the only way I could think of.”
Sonny didn’t say anything. “You sent Jane over here?” he said after a minute.
“It was the only thing I could think of to do,” I said.
“You son of a bitch,” Sonny said.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “But what the hell? You knew she was sleeping with Kirk ever since she got back from Athens. Didn’t you? If you didn’t, you’re pretty dumb. I thought you condoned it.”
Sonny’s ears turned slowly red.
“I put up with it,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I liked it.”
“Well. I’m sorry. It can’t be helped,” I said. “We better get on with this. Jane!” I bellowed, myself. No answer from upstairs. She had to be hearing us. “Here,” I said to Sonny, “you’ve got your gun? You keep him covered while I collect that cannon of his.”
“Say, I want to know what the hell is going on here,” Kirk said, as I started past him. He still had his hands on his head. I picked up the gun. “If you think you’re moving in here to break up this operation we’ve got going, you better think about it. I warned you, Davies. You’re messing around with things you don’t know anything about. You’ve been lucky up to now. Because certain important people have protected you. If they hadn’t, you’d be dead already. But they’re going to take a very dim view of this.”
“Shut up,” I said. I took a look around the pantry, and in the kitchen. I didn’t see any cellar stairs. I came back in front of Kirk. “So certain people are protecting me, hunh? Who?”
“You’ll find out. Soon enough,” Kirk said. “After this mess.”
“Shut up,” I said again. “All I want to know from you is if there’s an inside cellar stairs in this place.”
He gave me a look. If he was hoping for help from the cellar, he knew now it wasn’t coming. It showed on his face, and was the answer I wanted. I grinned. “Yeah. They’re all locked up nice and tight,” I said. “Now, you want to know what’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’m taking you in for the murders of Girgis and the girl Marie. That’s what’s going on, old buddy.”
“You’re what!” His big face expressed total disbelief.
“That’s it. There’s no question in my mind. You killed Girgis to have all this heroin trade to yourself, and then had to kill Marie because she knew you’d done it.”
“You must be off your rocker,” Kirk said disbelievingly.
“There’s nothing personal in it,” I said, and grinned. “We’re not here because we dislike you. Are we, Sonny?” I looked over at him. Then back at Kirk. “What’s more, I’m taking Jane Duval in as an accomplice. Or at least, an accessory after the fact. Now call the broad down.” I leaned heavy on the Broad.
“You’re crazy,” Kirk said with his mouth open. “You’re really crazy.”
“Go on,” I said. “Call her down here. Or I’ll go up there and drag her down.”
Behind me I heard Sonny curse.
“Oh, Christ,” Kirk said under his breath. Then he bellowed. “Jane! Come down here! You better come down here, damn it!”
There was a kind of pause everywhere, it seemed, for a moment. It seemed to me even the breeze stopped blowing the curtains, but I was sure it didn’t. Then a door creaked upstairs, and Jane Duval came out. All three of us looked up at her. She was clad only in a towel she had wrapped around her. It was a short towel and it didn’t hide much except her nipples and her navel. And we were looking up at her. I felt like hollering “Beaver!” but refrained. She came clear out to the balcony railing and she had a big broad sexy smile on her face. A fake one. I guessed for the first time since I’d met her anyway, she wasn’t looking superior and self-confident. I was rather pleased.
“Sonny!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Behind me Sonny cursed again.
“You better step back, honey, you’re exposing your secrets,” I said. I hardened my voice. “Then you better put something on, it’s breezy, and come down here. Because we’ve got something serious to talk about.”
Behind me Sonny began to curse again, steadily this time. I turned to look at him. I was holding the two guns carefully in my left hand, dangling, with my first finger through their two trigger guards. Sonny was dead white. His face was all squeezed up between his heavy brows and his Gould mustache like a pair of wrinkled pants between the two bars of a hairy pants-hanger, and his mouth was wide open and contorted with his cursing.
“I didn’t do it!” Jane Duval cried from the balcony. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Nothing to do at all. Okay, I screwed them. Girgis said he would take me away from here, to America. Marie was going to go back to New York with me together, at one point. Con Taylor said he would take me away to Rome. But I didn’t kill them. I didn’t. And I don’t care. I don’t care, and I’ll shout it from every court in the land. I’ll tell it to everybody. You take me to court and see! I’ll go to court. I’m willing to go to court. I want to go to court! I can prove I didn’t do it. I don’t know who killed them. But I didn’t!” She clutched her towel around her.
There was a long silence after she stopped. I turned to look at Sonny. So did Jim Kirk. So we both saw it when he moved the gun.
“Hold it!” Kirk said urgently. “Hold on. Let’s just talk about it a minute.”
“God damn you,” Sonny said. “God damn both of you. Davies, turn around here. Put those guns on the floor. Keep your right hand away from them. Lay them down, with your left hand, and push them over here.”
I turned and put the two guns on the floor and slid them over to him meekly. Kirk watched me, hungrily. Sonny kicked the guns away from him into a corner viciously, a dangerous thing to do if you knew a hammer could bang up against a wall and ignite a cartridge.
“You thought you were a smart guy, huh?” Sonny said, in a contorted voice.
I didn’t answer him.
He was breathing heavily. “Thought you’d get me over here, and get me to expose myself, did you? Okay, I’ll expose myself.
“I killed them. I killed them both. Me. Sonny Duval. And I’d have got Con Taylor too, if you hadn’t stuck your damned nose in it. And this one, too.” He glared at Kirk. “I’d of got him too. You think I give a damn? I don’t give a damn. I don’t give a damn.”
He sucked a breath. “But it won’t do you any good, all your smart shit, smart guy. Because you forgot one thing. You didn’t think about it. You gave me a gun, you dumb bastard.” He grinned.
“I guess you’ve got the drop on me, Sonny,” I said. “You outfoxed me.”
Beside me Kirk’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger. He kept looking back and forth from Sonny to me.
“You’re goddamned right I have. I’ve outfoxed everybody. Until you got into it, Davies. But it doesn’t matter. This way’s just as good as any other. I was going to cut out from here anyway, soon. As soon as I’d taken care of Con Taylor. But I’ll get him some other time.” He stopped, and swallowed. He threw a quick glance upward.
“Jane, come down here! Put your clothes on, honey, and come down. There’s nothing to be afraid of. These tough guys aren’t going to hurt you. They’re not going to hurt anybody. Come on down, and we’ll get out of here. For good.”
I looked up at the balcony. Jane Duval’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger, too. Her hands, knuckle-white, were gripping the balcony railing. Her towel was slowly slipping off her. Now she was just about all exposed. Nobody seemed to care, at the moment. I certainly didn’t.
Sonny swung his eyes on me. “The money’s been stashed away a long time. And I’ve got the boat. All I need is our passports. I’ve had it all ready a long time, actually. Nobody’ll ever catch up with us. When you’ve got the money, nobody can touch you. All you need is enough money, Davies. And I’ve got it.” He grinned, and swallowed.
“They won’t even know I killed you two. I can make it look like you shot each other.
“Honey, put your clothes on! Why are you standing there? Don’t look so scared. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Jane didn’t move. Sonny didn’t know it, but I could have told him. Jane wasn’t about to get ready to go anywhere with him, ever. She’d rather have married me.
Sonny looked at Kirk. “You none of you ever understood her. You thought she was an easy lay. I told you over and over you didn’t understand her. Big tough he-man males. Every woman a notch on your gun. Knock them over like the ducks in a shooting gallery. Sure.”
He swung the gun on me. “You think I didn’t see her over there at that house of yours all morning? I saw it. I recorded it. Here.” He tapped his temple with his other hand.
Back to Kirk. “But you. You fat slob. You’re the worst of all. So I’m giving you the honor of being first.”
Covertly I looked over at Kirk, whose eyes were bulging with disbelief. His whole face seemed to bulge outward with a mighty effort to stop what was happening to him. Here he was, his face screamed, about to die, really actually about to die, at the hands of a stupid madman, who was shooting him, who was in the act of shooting him, the whole thing was crazy, and nobody was doing anything to stop it, him, Jim Kirk.
In front of us Sonny pulled the trigger on the little gun, the hammer rising and falling with a kind of inexorable inevitability.
The gun crashed out, enormously loud in the room. Jim Kirk stood, blank-faced, waiting for something to hit him.
I had an enormous desire to laugh. Sonny was still firing, at Kirk and at me, the shots crashing out deafeningly in the room. Kirk and I stood and looked at him. On the balcony Jane was screaming to add her share to the racket. For once in my life I thought I could award myself first prize, for staging and set designing if not for anything else.
About the time he ran out of ammo and began firing clicks, it dawned on Sonny that neither of us had gone down. He looked down at the gun in his hand.
“That’s it, Sonny,” I said, quietly. “That’s right. I put ’em in there for you myself.”
He looked down again at the gun, a moment longer. Then, “You son of a bitch,” he screamed, and threw the gun at me and bolted out the door.
I ducked the gun, and jumped for the corner where the two honest guns were. It was about eight steps. But the duck had cost me the split second I needed to beat Kirk, and he was there ahead of me. He blocked me off with his big butt and fell on his knees and grabbed both of them. He was sobbing.
“I’ll kill the son of a bitch! I’ll kill him!”
“You dumb bastard,” I hollered. “You’ll kill nobody. Give me one. He’s getting away.”
He simply glared at me. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch! I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”
He was on his feet now, and I slugged him on the jaw as hard as I could. He sat down, his eyes a little glazed, but still holding tight to both guns. Waveringly, he pointed one of them at me. I wasn’t sure he knew I wasn’t Sonny.
Anyway, I didn’t have time to sit down and discuss it with him. I turned my back and ran for the door.
Up on the balcony Jane Duval was still screaming, monotonously, without an opera singer’s inflections.