Seawitch (15 page)

"Yes. Especially on the other hand." Mitchell turned to leave, then said to Robertson: "Does the gatekeeper have a listed phone number as well as the radiophone?"

"I've typed it on that list."

"Maybe we should both have you as a partner."

Mitchell and Roomer stood on Campbell's back lawn and surveyed the scene unemotionally. The canvas chair, on its side, had a broken leg. The parasol was upturned on the grass, over an opened book. The fishing rod was in the water up to its handle and would have floated away had not the reel snagged on a shrub root Roomer retrieved the rod while Mitchell hurried through the back doorway—the back door was wide open, as was the front. He dialed a phone number, and got an answer on the first ring.

"Lord Worth's heliport. Gorrie here."

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"My name's Mitchell. You have a police guard?"

"Mr. Mitchell? You Lord Worth's friend?"

"Yes."

"Sergeant Roper is here."

"That all? Let me speak to him." There was hardly a pause before Roper came on the phone.

"Mike? Nice to hear from you again."

"Listen, Sergeant, this is urgent. I'm speaking from the house of John Campbell, one of Lord Worth's pilots. He has been forcibly abducted, almost certainly by some of the kidnapers of Lord Worth's daughters. I have every reason to believe—no tune for explanations now—that they're heading in your direction with the intention of hijacking one of Lord Worth's helicopters and forcing Campbell to fly it. There'll be two of them at least, maybe three, armed and dangerous. I suggest you call up reinforcements immediately. If we get them we'll break them— at least Roomer and I will; you can't, you're a law officer and your hands are tied—and we'll find where the girls are and get them back,"

"Reinforcements coming up. Then I'll look the other way."

Mitchell hung up. Roomer was by his side. Roomer said: "You prepared to go as far as back-room persuasion to get the information we want?"

Mitchell looked at him bleakly. "I look forward to it. Don't you?"

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"No. But Til go along with you." Once again Mitchell and Roomer had guessed correctly. And once again they were too late.

Mitchell had driven to Lord Worth's heliport with a minimum regard for traffic and speed regulations, and now, having arrived there, he realized bitterly that his haste had been wholly unnecessary.

Five men greeted their arrival, although it was hardly a cheerful meeting: Gorrie, the gateman, and four policemen. Gome and Sergeant Roper were tenderly massaging their wrists. Mitchell looked at Roper.

"Don't tell me." Mitchell sounded weary. "They jumped you before the reinforcements were to hand."

"Yeah." Roper's face was dark with anger. "I know it sounds like the old lame excuse, but we never had a chance. This car comes along and stops outside the gatehouse, right here. The driver—he was alone in the car—seemed to be having a sneezing fit and was holding a big wad of Kleenex to his face."

Roomer said: "So you wouldn't recognize him again?"

"Exactly. Well, we were watching this dude when a voice from the back—the back window was open—told us to freeze. I didn't even have my hand on my gun. We froze. Then he told me to drop my gun. Well, this guy was no more than

Seawlteh

five feet away . . , I dropped my gun. Dead heroes are no good to anyone. Then he told us to turn around. He was wearing a stocking mask. Then the driver came and tied our wrists behind our backs. When we turned around he was wearing a stocking mask too."

"Then they tied your feet and tied you together so that you wouldn't have any funny ideas about using a telephone?"

"That's how it was. But they weren't worried about the phones. They cut the lines before they took off.*'

"They took off immediately?"

Gome said: "No. Five minutes later. The pilots always radio-file a flight plan before take-off. I suppose these guys forced Campbell to do the same. To make it look kosher."

Mitchell shrugged his indifference. "Means nothing. You can file a flight plan to anyplace. Doesn't mean you have to keep it. How about fuel—for the helicopters, I mean?"

"Fuel's always kept topped up. My job. Lord Worth's orders."

"What direction did they go?"

'Thataway." Gorrie indicated with an outstretched arm.

"Well, the birds have flown. Might as well be on our way."

"Just like that?" Roper registered surprise.

"What do you expect me to do that the police can't?"

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"Well, for starters, we could call in the Air Force."

"Why?"

"They could force it down."

Mitchell sighed. "There's a great deal of crap being talked about forcing planes down. What if they refuse to be forced down?"

"Then shoot it down."

"With Lord Worth's daughters aboard? Lord Worth wouldn't be very pleased. Neither would you. Think of all the cops that would be out of a job."

"Lord Worth's daughters!"

"It's all this routine police work," Roomer said. "Atrophies the brain. Who the hell do you think that helicopter has gone to pick up?"

Once clear of the heliport, Roomer extended an arm. " 'Thataway,' the man said. 'Thataway' is northwest. The Wyanee Swamp."

"Even if they'd taken off to the southeast they'd still have finished up in Wyanee." Mitchell pulled up by a public booth. "How are you with McGarrity's voice?" Roomer was an accomplished mimic.

"It's not the voice that's hard. It's the thought processes. Til give it a try." He didn't say what he was going to try because he didn't have to. He left for the booth and was back inside two minutes.

"Campbell filed a flight plan for the Seawitch"

"Any questions asked?"

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"Not really. Told them that some fool had made a mistake. Anyone who knows McGarrity would know who the fool was that made the mistake."

Mitchell started the engine, then switched off as the phone rang. Mitchell lifted the receiver.

"Jim here. Tried to ring you a couple of times, fifteen minutes ago, five minutes ago."

"Figures. Out of the car both times. More bad news?"

"Not unless you consider Lord Worth bad news. Touchdown in fifteen minutes."

"We got time."

"Says he's coming up to the house."

"Sent for the Rolls?"

"No. Probably wants to talk private. And it looks as if he's planning to stay away some time. Ordered a bag packed for a week."

"Seven white suits." Mitchell hung up.

Roomer said: "Looks as if we're going to have to do some bag-packing ourselves." Mitchell nodded and started up again.

Lord Worth was looking his old self when he settled in the back seat of their car. Not quite radiating his old bonhomie, to be sure, but calm and lucid and, to all appearances, relaxed. He told of his success in Washington, for which he was duly and politely congratulated. Roomer then told him in detail what had happened in

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his absence: this time the absence of congratulations was marked.

"You've notified Commander Larsen of your suspicions, of course?"

"Not suspicions," Mitchell said. "Certainties. And there's no 'of course' and no, we didn't notify him. Tm primarily responsible for that."

"Taking the law into your own hands, eh? Mind telling me why?'*

"You're the person who knows Larsen best. You know how possessive he is about the Sea-witch. You yourself have told us about his anger and violence. Do you think a man like that, duly forewarned, wouldn't have a very warm reception waiting for the kidnapers? Stray bullets, ricocheting bullets, are no respecter of persons, Lord Worth. You want a daughter crippled for life? We prefer that the kidnapers establish a bloodless beachhead."

"Well, all right." The words came grudgingly. "But from now on keep me fully informed of your intentions and decisions." Lord Worth, Roomer noted with sardonic amusement, had no intention of dispensing with their unpaid services. "But no more taking the law into your own hands, do you hear?"

Mitchell stopped car and engine. Roomer's amusement changed to apprehension. Mitchell twisted in his seat and looked at Lord Worth in cool speculation.

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"You're a fine one to talk." "What do you mean, sir?" There were fifteen generations of highland aristocracy in the glacial

voice.

Mitchell remained unmoved. "For taking the law into your own hands by breaking into and robbing that arsenal last night. If Roomer and I were decent citizens and law-abiding detectives, we'd have had you behind bars last night. Not even a billionaire can get away with that sort of thing, especially when it involves the assault and locking up of the arsenal guards. John and I were there." Mitchell was not above a little prevarication when the need arose.

"You were there." Most rarely for him, Lord Worth was at a loss for words. He recovered quickly. "But / wasn't there,"

"We know that. We also know you sanctioned the break-in. Ordered it, rather."

"Balderdash. And if you actually witnessed this, why did you not stop it?"

"John and I take our chances. But not against nine men armed with machine guns."

This gave Lord Worth pause. They had their figures and facts right. Clearly they had been there. He said: "Supposing any of this rigmarole were true, how in God's name do you tie me up with it?"

"Now you're being a fool. We were also at your heliport. We saw the truck arrive. We saw

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nine men unload a fairly massive quantity of more than fairly lethal weaponry into one helicopter. Then a man drove the truck away—an army truck, of course—back to the arsenal from where it had been stolen. The other eight men boarded another helicopter. Then a minibus arrived, carrying twelve heavily armed thugs who joined the other eight. John and I recognized no fewer than five of them—two of them we've personally put behind bars." Roomer looked at him admiringly, but Mitchell wasn't looking at Roomer, he was looking at Lord Worth, and both voice and tone were devoid of any form of encouragement. "It came as a shock to both of us to find that Lord Worth was consorting with common criminals. You're sweating a little, Lord Worth. Why are you sweating?'*

Lord Worth didn't enlighten them as to why he was sweating.

"And then, of course, you came along in the Rolls. One of the very best sequences we got on our infrared movie camera last night." Roomer blinked, but that Lord Worth believed Mitchell Roomer did not for a moment doubt: everything that Mitchell had said, even the slight embellishments, Lord Worth knew or believed to be true, so he had no reason to doubt the truth of the camera fiction.

"We actually considered phoning the nearest army HQ and having them send along some

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armored cars and a trailered tank. Even your thugs wouldn't have stood a chance. We thought of going down the road, blocking the Rolls and holding you until the army arrived—it was perfectly obvious that the helicopters had no intention of leaving until you turned up. Once captured, God knows how many of them—especially those who had already served prison terms—would have jumped at the chance of turning state's evidence and incriminating you. It's quite true, you know—there is no honor among thieves." If Lord Worth had any objections to being categorized as a thief, it didn't register in his face. "But after the standard bit of soul-searching we decided against it."

"Why, in God's name?"

"So you admit it." Mitchell sighed. "Why couldn't you do that at the beginning and save me all this trouble?"

"Why?" Lord Worth repeated his question.

It was Roomer who answered. "Partly because even though you're a confessed lawbreaker, we still have a regard for you. But mainly because w.e didn't want to see your daughters confronted with seeing their father behind bars. In hindsight, of course, we're glad we didn't. In comparison with the kidnaping of your daughters, your own capers outside the law fade into a peccadillo."

Mitchell started the motor again and said: "It is understood that there will be no more pecca-

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dilloes. It is also understood that there will be no more talk about our taking the law into our own hands."

Lord Worth lay back in his study armchair, His second brandy tasted just as good as his first—it seemed to be his day for brandies. He hadn't spoken a word for the rest of the trip— which, fortunately, had been mercifully short, for Lord Worth had felt urgently in need of restoratives. Not for the first time, he found himself silently blessing his kidnaped daughters.

He cleared his throat and said: "I assume you are still willing to come out to the rig with me?"

Mitchell contemplated his glass. "We never expressed our intentions one way or another about that. But I suppose someone has to look after you and your daughters."

Lord Worth frowned. There had, he felt, been more than a subtle change in their relationship. Perhaps the establishment of an employer-employee status would help redress the balance. He said: "I feel it's time we put your co-operation on a businesslike footing. I propose to retain you in your professional capacities as investigators—in other words, become your client. I shall not quibble at your demanded fees." He had no sooner finished than he realized that he had made a mistake.

Roomer's voice was coldly unenthusiastic. "Money doesn't buy everything, Lord Worth.

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Particularly, it doesn't buy us. We have no intention of being shackled, of having our freedom of action curtailed. And as far as the fees and your skyVthe-limit implication are concerned, the hell with it. How often do we have to tell you we don't trade money for your daughters* lives?"

Lord Worth didn't even bother frowning. The change in relationship, he reflected sadly, had been even greater than he had realized. "As you will. One assumes that you will be suitably disguised?"

Mitchell said: "Why?"

Lord Worth was impatient. "You said you saw some ex-convicts boarding the helicopter. People you recognized. They'll surely recognize you?"