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Authors: Donald Hamilton
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could I? Once that piece is published, I won’t even have to carry a weapon. Everybody’ll know what a terrible, dangerous fellow I am; they’ll tremble in their shoes when they see me coming. They’ll all straighten up and fly right without my even having to threaten them. One piercing look from my murderous blue eyes will do the job.”
She looked at me for a moment longer, and shrugged minutely. “If you’re not going to do anything constructive with that damned bottle, slide it this way.”
Taking the bottle I moved within her reach, she poured some whiskey into my almost-empty glass and then gave herself a moderate refill. The boat rocked gently from the wash of a large cruiser leaving the harbor.
I said, “As far as Miss Brand’s revelations are concerned, naturally we’d like to find out if she’s going to expose any of our people who are still unknown to the opposition, particularly any who are off on dangerous business at the moment. At least that way we can yank them home before somebody lowers the boom on them. And naturally, we’d like to persuade her nicely to soft-pedal the names of a few agents whose usefulness might actually be impaired. . . The woman beside me had stirred uneasily; now she threw me a sharp glance. I said irritably, “Damn it to hell, Harriet!”
“What’s the matter?”
“You didn’t always have such a cliche mind. When I say persuade I mean persuade; I’m not talking about the pincers and thumbscrews.”
“Well, you can hardly blame me for—”
“You’re reacting like a TV-crazy kid. Snap out of it,” I said harshly. “Years ago you killed one of our people, or you had a henchman do it for you. You’re still sitting here alive and healthy, aren’t you? With a shiny new past provided by us. We don’t go around casually massacring or torturing crazy ladies who just don’t happen to like us. You should know that if anyone does.”
There was a little silence. Then, deliberately, she reached out a long, slim hand—she hadn’t gotten it entirely clean, but that was irrelevant—and turned my face toward her and leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the lips.
“I’m sorry, my dear. When you live with corny people, you develop corny reactions. You should drop around 'more often to keep me sensible.” She grimaced, and seemed to become aware of her unromantic appearance. She retrieved her hand abruptly. “Well, tell me what you want so I can finish up my work and take a shower. Essence of Diesel Number Two seems to be the perfume of the day.”
“As I said, we’d like to persuade her to cooperate a little,” I said. “My clever idea, cold-blooded, I admit, is that a gal whose life you save is likely to be grateful to you and may even be talked into getting her publisher to delete a name or two you’d rather not see in print. But that’s pretty iffy. It may not break that way at all, and even if it does, Miss Brand seems to be a girl whose gratitude—or friendship, or loyalty—you don’t want to rely on too strongly if her work is involved. So my chief concern is simply keeping the dame alive. If we can cash in on it afterward, so much the better, but we simply can’t afford the suspicions that will be aroused if somebody kills her right now. After her series on us is published, and people have had time to forget, she can he down and croak for all we care; but at the moment, her life is very precious to us.”
Harriet laughed softly. “Well, that’s clear enough, brutally clear, but it doesn’t really tell me what you want from me.
I said, “I want to make sure she’s not sticking her long snoopy nose—well, her short snoopy nose, judging by her picture—into anything dangerous—”
Harriet shook her head quickly, and I stopped. She said, “You’d better not count on that, Matt.”
“I see. Thanks. That’s one thing I needed to know. So we plug in Contingency Program Number Two; and as official troubleshooter I’ll roll up my sleeves
She looked at me for a moment longer, and shrugged minutely. “If you’re not going to do anything constructive with that damned bottle, slide it this way.”
Taking the bottle I moved within her reach, she poured some whiskey into my almost-empty glass and then gave herself a moderate refill. The boat rocked gently from the wash of a large cruiser leaving the harbor.
I said, “As far as Miss Brand’s revelations are concerned, naturally we’d like to find out if she’s going to expose any of our people who are still unknown to the opposition, particularly any who are off on dangerous business at the moment. At least that way we can yank them home before somebody lowers the boom on them. And naturally, we’d like to persuade her nicely to soft-pedal the names of a few agents whose usefulness might actually be impaired. . . The woman beside me had stirred uneasily; now she threw me a sharp glance. I said irritably, “Damn it to hell, Harriet!”
“What’s the matter?”
“You didn’t always have such a cliche mind. When I say persuade I mean persuade; I’m not talking about the pincers and thumbscrews.”
“Well, you can hardly blame me for—”
“You’re reacting like a TV-crazy kid. Snap out of it,” I said harshly. “Years ago you killed one of our people, or you had a henchman do it for you. You’re still sitting here alive and healthy, aren’t you? With a shiny new past provided by us. We don’t go around casually massacring or torturing crazy ladies who just don’t happen to like us. You should know that if anyone does.”
There was a little silence. Then, deliberately, she reached out a long, slim hand—she hadn’t gotten it entirely clean, but that was irrelevant—and turned my face toward her and leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the lips.
“I’m sorry, my dear. When you live with corny people, you develop corny reactions. You should drop around 'more often to keep me sensible.” She grimaced, and seemed to become aware of her unromantic appearance. She retrieved her hand abruptly. “Well, tell me what you want so I can finish up my work and take a shower. Essence of Diesel Number Two seems to be the perfume of the day.”
“As I said, we’d like to persuade her to cooperate a little,” I said. “My clever idea, cold-blooded, I admit, is that a gal whose life you save is likely to be grateful to you and may even be talked into getting her publisher to delete a name or two you’d rather not see in print. But that’s pretty iffy. It may not break that way at all, and even if it does, Miss Brand seems to be a girl whose gratitude—or friendship, or loyalty—you don’t want to rely on too strongly if her work is involved. So my chief concern is simply keeping the dame alive. If we can cash in on it afterward, so much the better, but we simply can’t afford the suspicions that will be aroused if somebody kills her right now. After her series on us is published, and people have had time to forget, she can he down and croak for all we care; but at the moment, her life is very precious to us.”
Harriet laughed softly. “Well, that’s clear enough, brutally clear, but it doesn’t really tell me what you want from me.
I said, “I want to make sure she’s not sticking her long snoopy nose—well, her short snoopy nose, judging by her picture—into anything dangerous—”
Harriet shook her head quickly, and I stopped. She said, “You’d better not count on that, Matt.”
“I see. Thanks. That’s one thing I needed to know. So we plug in Contingency Program Number Two; and as official troubleshooter I’ll roll up my sleeves
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