Chapter 2
The pounding was somewhere nearby, like they were trying to tear down the walls. A whole goddam wrecking crew. Then the pounding was in my head. I drifted slowly out of sleep and tried to open my eyes.
They felt heavy, like weights were pressing against them. I fought against the weights and finally got them open. I lay for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling. Whoever was outside kept pounding on my door.
"Okay "I yelled. "Give me a minute "
Conchita lay beside me, sleeping like a contented kitten. I gave her a shove and she rolled away lazily, continuing to snore with a low purring sound.
I snatched up my shorts from the floor and put them on as I staggered to the door. The guy was still beating a tattoo. It sounded like he was using both fists. I jerked open the door and blinked the sleep from my eyes.
It was Pancho.
The big fat Pancho who sat at the desk in the police station. Our paid informer. He glanced behind him nervously and pushed into my room.
"What do you want?" I growled.
"I came to warn you, senor."
I shook my head then, and I was wide awake. I grabbed him by the arm.
"They are going to raid us?"
"Si, senor. Tonight."
"When?"
"Eleven o'clock."
I glanced at the watch on my wrist. It was almost nine. That gave us only two hours to clear out. There was a hell of a lot to be done in two hours. I strapped on the money belt.
"They won't come before eleven?"
"No, senor. Eleven o'clock sharp." He pulled nervously at the end of his mustache. "That's when they told the soldiers to report to the jefe."
"Troops," I muttered. "They're not taking any chances, are they? Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so, senor. I was very careful." He glanced toward Conchita sleeping naked on the bed. "You were hard to wake. Maybe I made too much noise?"
"Don't sweat it."
"I was gathering my clothes, dressing in a hurry. I sat on the chair and tied my shoes, then I pulled the suitcase from under the bed. It was all packed and ready to go. I'd been living out of the suitcase for the past several months.
I double-checked the money belt, then took a snub-nosed .38 revolver from the dresser drawer. I shoved it into my pocket. I picked up the suitcase, and I was ready to go.
"Come on "I said, giving Pancho a shove.
"I want my money, senor."
"You'll get it," I growled. "It's in the safe at the office. Let's get going."
I glanced back from the door and saw Conchita still sound asleep.' I hated to be leaving anything so nice, just when the fun was getting started. But right then my neck was in a noose. I was in danger of losing everything I'd worked for, and maybe land in prison besides.
Pancho stopped halfway down the stairs.
"We shouldn't be seen together, senor," he whispered. "It would be very bad for me."
I ground my teeth.
"All right. My car's parked in the alley. You go first and crawl in back, lie on the floor. I'll give you thirty seconds, then I'm coming right behind you."
"Si, senor "
And he was running down the stairs. He paused at the entrance, glanced in both directions, and disappeared into the night. I waited until I figured he had made it to the corner, then I went after him.
He was lying on the rear floor like I had told him, so fat and winded that he wheezed loudly all the way to the office. It was a small shop with a large storage room in back. Lucky for us, there wasn't a lot of merchandise on hand. We would just have to leave what was there and let the police help themselves. They'd probably get into a brawl over the American cigarettes.
Duke and Chris both had rooms upstairs, above the office. I was hoping they were both there. We didn't have time to go chasing all over town.
Pancho followed me up the stairs. He was sticking to me like glue because he hadn't gotten his money yet. like everyone else in Puerto Reyes, he didn't trust anybody, especially three gringos who had made a killing on the black market.
Chris Maddox was in his room. There was a light showing under the door. I knocked once and walked in. Chris's lanky frame was stretched out on the bed. He lay in his underwear, reading a magazine.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
"They're on our tail, Chris."
He saw Pancho and rolled off the bed. At once he started putting on his clothes. He didn't say another word. He knew what was up.
His suitcase was packed just like mine. He pulled it out of the closet. Before he buttoned his shirt, he strapped on his money belt. Then he opened the suitcase and took out a pearl handled automatic.
"Where's Duke?" I asked.
"Out with some broad," Chris growled. "I think he's at the cantina. We'll phone him from the office."
"Let's roll," I said. "They're hitting us at eleven o'clock."
"We'll be long gone by then."
"If we find Duke "
"Let Duke take care of himself."
"We're calling Duke," I said grimly.
"Sure. We'll call Duke. But I ain't going to risk my neck looking for him if he ain't at the cantina."
On the way down to the office, Chris tossed his suitcase into the car beside mine. We switched on the office lights and drew the blinds. Chris picked up the phone. It took a minute to get the stupid operator to ring the right number.
"Let me talk to Duke," Chris said into the mouthpiece. And then he waited. He drummed his fingers nervously on the desk top. "Duke get your tail over here fast. Yeah Tonight. We've got to dust out."
He hung up.
"How about my money, senor?" Pancho said in a whining voice. 'Ten thousand pesos."
"You'll get it," I mutttered.
I kneeled down beside the big old safe and spun the dial. Pancho was watching, probably remembering the combination. But it didn't matter any more. We sure as hell wouldn't have any use for the safe after tonight. I heard Chris shoving things around in the storeroom. He came out with a couple of cases of cigarettes.
"I ain't leaving these behind."
"You'd better worry about the small stuff. That's too bulky," I said, jerking open the safe.
"There's a box of nylons "
I took out a brown sealed envelope and tossed it to Pancho. A packet of pesos that had already been counted and stuck in the safe for just this reason.
He tore it open. His eyes lit up as he saw all that money. Quickly he counted a couple of stacks, then shoved the rest in his pocket.
"Thank you, senor. Gracias."
He headed for the door.
"Hold on, Pancho," I called. "You're not leaving until we do. Sit down there in the corner." Pancho chewed his lip nervously, then he did as he was told. Just then Duke Bevins came through the door, charging like a mad bull. He was a big guy with burly shoulders. Usually he was calm and unworried. But right now there was a lot of worry in his face.
"Better gather your stuff," I told him.
Duke split the bottom of has shirt and showed us his money belt. He glanced toward the open safe.
"I'm ready," he said. "You got the jewels?"
I walked over to the safe and took out a small box. This was the real treasure. The stuff that would make us all rich when we got it back to the states where we could fence it.
There was a tiara and a couple of ruby rings. The tiara had once belonged to a Spanish nobleman. Then it had transferred hands after a revolution. It had been the property of a rich landowner until last year, when it was stolen. We had bought it for a song from some peasant who didn't know its real value. Roughly it was worth a hundred thousand, according to the newspaper accounts I'd read.
The rings would be worth five grand apiece.
Altogether, it was quite a haul. But it was also dangerous stuff to be carrying around, especially with the policia hot on our tails.
I started to open the box and check the contents.
"Hold it," Duke growled. You want big mouth over there to get his eyes full?"
Duke grabbed Pancho and shoved him into the closet. Then he came over to the desk. I opened the box and dumped it. The jewels were still there.
There were diamonds in the tiara as big as walnuts, almost. It was quite a treasure, if we could get it out of the country.
"What if we got caught with this on us?" Chris said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "We're not out of it yet. If we don't get away, they might give us a year for the black market operations. But they catch us with the national treasure they'll throw away the key and let us rot."
Duke nodded grimly.
"How do we get it out?"
"Mail it-" I said.
We were talking in low whispers so Pancho couldn't hear. I heard him wheezing inside the closet, which was probably as hot as a steam bath.
"That may not be such a bad idea," Duke said.
Chris nodded.
"Yeah. We can cruise up the coast and go ashore in Mexico. Pick it up at the post office. If s so simple it might work."
"Acapulco," Duke said.
I was already stuffing the jewels back into the box. There was a roll of tape on the desk, which we used to wrap packages. Some of our deliveries went through the mail. It was slower than molasses, but it usually reached the destination.
I taped the box, then folded it in brown wrapping paper and taped that good. It made a package about the size of a cigar box.
Duke picked up a ballpoint from the desk. "Give me a name," he said.
"Jacob " Chris said. "Green."
"That'll do."
Duke lettered it on the package while we watched. Jacob Green. General Delivery. Acapulco, Guerrero, Mexico. There were several sheets of stamps in the desk drawer. Duke pasted on six fifty-peso stamps. More than enough to pay the postage to Acapulco.
There was some loose cash in the safe. We took a couple of minutes to split it three ways, then we went out and climbed into the car. Pancho was still in the closet. That was a good place for him. He'd stay put until he didn't hear us for a while, then he'd come out and spend more time gathering the loot we'd had to leave behind.
That would keep him out of our hair until we got aboard the cruiser.
I drove slowly through the center of town, not wanting to attract attention. I kept to the darker streets as much as I could, and parked at the side of the post office.
Duke had the package. I killed the motor and climbed out with him. Chris came behind me. We all wanted to see it go into the mailbox. Duke dropped it through the bronze door of the night depository, and we all climbed back in the car.
After we had gotten rid of the jewels, I began to feel better. I was sure now that we were going to make a clean getaway. I drove faster on the way to the harbor.
Our thirty foot cruiser was tied up at the T-head pier, all gassed up and ready to go. The sixteen foot runabout was tied to the stern on a tiller. It was good to have a spare, in case we lost the big one or needed extra speed.
I grabbed my suitcase and climbed aboard. Chris kicked over the twin Chrysler motors while Duke a nod I cast off. In a minute we were cruising slowly out of the harbor toward the open sea. There was only one thing now that could get in our way.
The Coast Guard cutter that usually drifted a couple miles offshore, watching for foreign fishermen who got inside the three mile limit. She had a lot of speed for a Central American navy boat They'd bought her from U. S. surplus.
Standing oh the stern, I watched the runabout tugging behind us in the wake. Then I saw a lot of sudden activity on the T-head we'd just left Three police cars screeched to a stop beside our car.
Spotlights came on and began sweeping the water. One of the beams picked us up. Chris shoved the throttles and we shot ahead. I saw a couple of cops fall to the pavement in a prone position and aim rifles our way.
Duke and I ran into the cabin and dropped to the deck. I heard several distant cracks, then shattering glass above my head. Chris was shouting something, but I couldn't hear above the roar of the engines.
"We could be in trouble," Duke said. I nodded.
As soon as we were out of range of the rifles, Duke and I went back on deck. Chris was still on the flying bridge, steering toward the blinking anchor buoy which marked the entrance to the channel.
We were past the buoy, turning north to open ocean when the cutter's spotlight began sweeping the water about a mile to port.
I climbed up to the bridge and stood beside Chris. He was gripping the wheel tightly, peering straight ahead at the smooth ocean spread out before us in the moonlight
"Can we outrun them?" I asked.
"Should be able to. But they'll give us a chase. And they've got a gun that will range a couple of miles."
Just then there was sound like the ripping of heavy cloth, followed by a boom in the distance. A hundred yards to starboard I saw a waterspout rise up. Chris spun the wheel, and the boat heeled to the right.
Another shot rattled across the sky, and this time it fell to the stern. They were taking wild potshots, but one of them might just connect.
Duke was standing on the deck below.
"Cut loose the small boat" I yelled. "That'll give us more speed."
"Hell no! We're gonna need it"
There was another shot, and a spout rising dead ahead about fifty yards off the bow. Chris spun the wheel again. I held onto the rail and looked back. The cutter seemed to be smaller than when I first spotted it.
The next shot didn't come for nearly a minute, and it splashed in the water far astern. That was the last one they fired. We were outrunning them fast. The cutter hadn't been capable of near the speed I'd thought she was. like everything else in the country, they'd probably let the equipment go to hell. Lucky for us they had.
Duke climbed up to the bridge. The cutter was no longer in sight. She must have turned back and given us up. We talked for five minutes, deciding how we would divide the watch. Mine was third, about daybreak.
That was fine by me. I was ready to hit the sack. I climbed down the ladder and went below. Even with the ocean breeze, it was too hot to sleep in my clothes. I stripped down to everything but my shorts and money belt and dropped onto the bunk. I didn't even remember my head hitting the pillow....