SILENT GUNS (13 page)

“
What about money?”

“
Rigged slots: Hirsch and two
accomplices for a $526,000 payoff. My client has already had, shall
I say, an understanding with the other two. He wants the rest
back.”

“
Why me?”

“
You’re hiding him.”

“
I swear I didn’t
know…”

She cut him short. “Then why did you get Hirsch up
here? Are you partners? Did Hirsch promise you a cut?”

Trent was startled, as if struck across the face.
“Lisa, you’ve got this all wrong, you really do.”

Her face flashed in disbelief.

The waiter broke in with the dessert menu and to
clear the table. From cold to hot, Lisa turned gay and
effervescent.

“
I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes
again warm and her smile radiant. To his surprise, she cupped his
hands in hers and warmly kissed them. It was a kiss asking for
forgiveness, too light to be mistaken for passion, yet not so light
as to deny the promise of more to come. Trent trembled inside–Lisa
was one cool lady. The conversation turned to more innocuous
subjects, and time passed by quickly.

* * *

The hour was late. The street was half-astir,
streetlights cast eerie shadows through lace-fingered trees spaced
evenly along the sidewalk. Tall office buildings downtown glittered
in the distance. Lisa lived alone in a small, tastefully decorated
apartment. Trent looked around and took comfort in what he was
seeing. Things were orderly with little clutter; he himself was no
neat-nick and doubted he could enjoy the company of someone who
was. A fireplace graced a living room wall fronted by two white
chairs. A deep blue sofa buttressed the far wall. Knick-knacks were
carefully placed about, mementoes of earlier times. A picture
propped on the mantle was of a man in uniform; his smile was of
happier times. Trent moved to the fireplace and picked up the
picture.

When she came back from her bedroom, Lisa had
changed into a soft skirt, sweater, and was barefoot.

“
My husband,” Lisa
said.

“
Divorce?”

“
Dead. Four years ago.”

“
Sorry.”

“
The Air Force. He was a pilot.
His fighter crashed on a training mission. My heart broke, but I
got over his death, time cures all. I no longer feel the hurt.”
Trent turned her away from the picture until she faced him. He drew
her to him and he kissed her. Her response was reserved, without
emotion; her lips received him coolly, yet signaled a desperate
need. She, knowing this moment would arrive, yet unprepared to deal
with it. “Maybe, it was a mistake to come here with me, Tony,” said
Lisa. The scent of her perfume and the freshness of her womanliness
inflamed the fire within him. Trent reached out and embraced her
again. She drew apart, but the assertiveness, the self-assurance
had gone. She looked at him unable to hide the tenderness she felt
for him. “I must have more reason than a kiss to go to bed with a
man, any man. A kiss is not enough. I am not a nymphet.” She gave a
nervous little laugh.

Her lips brushed his cheek. Trent’s hands felt for
her body under her dress. Breathing heavily though slightly open
lips, Lisa pressed her thighs teasingly against his. She moved them
thrilling him more than he had expected. Trent heard himself say,
“I want you, Lisa.” It sounded so crude. Her knees were weak and
trembling, the sudden abandonment of his reserve aroused her
further. Again, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I wanted to
hear you say it. I felt something the first time we met.” Her voice
was almost inaudible. Happiness sparkled her eyes; they were
brighter, ever more alive. Trent tenderly touched and stroked her
hair. She leaned back in his arms then pressed closer. “I have
never met anyone like you,” she dropped her voice. She pressed her
mouth harder against his, then her lips parted as if she could no
longer help herself. She clung desperately, needing him as he
needed her. She slipped out of her skirt and threw it across the
sofa. Trent stripped her and kissed her nakedness. He could feel
the tension like a living thing. She quivered as his hand moved
around her breast, then down to her warmness. They surrendered to
each other, their love making both physical and pleasurable. He
could accept she did not truly love him, but he did not care. For
the moment, tomorrow was a far off cloud drifting towards a distant
horizon.

Night passed. Trent stirred and found himself
drifting between sleep and consciousness. He lay beside her, awake,
not moving. Lisa’s warm body snuggled tightly against his. Her head
tilted slightly, her golden hair, bathed by the sun streaming
through blinds, flowed freely across the pillow. Lisa looked as
natural as she did the first time they met. He felt completely
refreshed, elated. He wondered how she had gotten mixed up with the
NARDO AGENCY. She stirred drowsily. Slipping off the bed, he stood
and stretched and stole into the kitchen. He soon had the smell of
fresh brewed coffee filling the apartment.

“
Good Morning.” he turned. She
stood in the doorway.

“
To you, too.”

“
You’re good company.”

“
Thanks.”

“
And, Hirsch?”

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 10

“
We caught up to him at the
Redeye,” Graves unceremoniously heaped Harper on his cot. “AWOL and
stone, cold drunk, he is. He was suckin’ up the stuff and showin’
off for the dollies, shootin’ off his mouth, he was, about us. Some
creepy guy was all ears.”

“
How much did he spill?” Madden
demanded of Hirsch.

“
Enough. He spotted us right off
and clammed up. Wake up, goof-off,” Graves kicked Harper in his
ribs. Harper groaned. “He don’t like the idea, much,” Hirsch mused,
cracking a smile that instantly faded, in deference to Madden’s
sour mood.

“
Splash him,” Trent ordered, his
face impassive. Graves gleefully dumped a bucket of cold water on
the inert form. The affect was startling…Harper sprung up fast with
both arms swinging wildly. Graves backed-off, planted his feet and
waited as Harper groggily lunged at his huge shape. Graves brushed
his arm forward and hurled Harper, his body thudding thickly to the
deck like a smashed watermelon. Hirsch winced.

“
You didn’t have to do that,
Graves,” Madden hissed.

“
Get up, shithead!” Graves
bellowed, his feet straddling the crumpled form. Madden shoved
Graves aside, yanked Harper upright by the collar and pressed him
against the wall.

“
What does Schiller know? Tell
us!”

“
Who? How do I know,” Harper
mumbled, groggily.

“
You shot off your
mouth!”

“
I doan know. Jus’ havin’ a good
time.”

“
How much does Schiller know?”
Madden shook him violently, slapping him across the face. Harper
cowered, his arm rose instinctively.

“
Shove it!” Harper
bellowed.

“
You’re hopeless, Harper,” Madden
said, letting him slip to the deck. Graves jumped in, grabbed and
twisted Harper’s arm. “Damn nigger. Good for nothing. You ain’t
done nothing but screw up since you got here.”

“
Go fuck yourself,” Harper spit at
him. Graves clenched his teeth and bore down, twisting his arm ever
harder. Harper’s body jerked violently as he passed out.

“
Let go of his arm, Graves,” Trent
shouted. “I said let him go.” Graves’ eyes blazed, then threw his
arm aside. Harper lay in a daze, head flipped aside spewing vomit.
His stomach convulsed, forcing out sour smells. Madden chastised
himself. Having restricted Harper to the warehouse for his own
safety, he knew he could no longer be trusted out of sight. Harper
dealt himself odd-man out.

Trent exhorted, “Christ! Any leak and we’re done
for. I’ll call the whole thing off. Do you all understand that? No
money! No five million! Any hint, and the Navy comes down on us
like a ton of bricks. And, I do not intend to spend the rest of my
life in prison.”

“
Damn, Schiller,” shouted
Madden.

“
Who’s Schiller, anyway?” Hirsch
asked.

* * *

The
Helga
impatiently tugged and strained at
her lines. She was loaded and fueled, a racehorse primed for the
main event. Gun powder, neatly bagged in silk by Graves, was
wrapped and sealed against moisture and stowed deep in the bottom
of the aft hold. Hoists, generators, welding torches, all types of
working equipment and assorted tools were stowed carefully to
conceal the deadly cargo underneath. In the forward hold, space was
set aside for six shells each weighing over 2000 pounds with
pre-fabricated crates to conceal their identity. Graves proved a
meticulous cargo-master. Stowing was tough, difficult work; but he
had the
Helga
riding well. While Graves and Madden worked
the holds, Maxie manned the boom winch. Harper, under watchful
eyes, proved to be a fair cook and was given galley duty. The
galley was stocked for five days: the plan was three days at the
Yard and back to Seattle for two. Morale was high as the intense
activity brought reality to the mission’s purpose.

The pall of evening settled over the
Helga
,
Madden and Graves checked deck gear and battened down hatches.
Their work done, they hung up their slicks as a heavy downpour
drenched the
Helga
. Hirsch sat clenching a hot coffee mug.
As the men gathered around the mess table, Graves remarked, “The
Helga
is ready, so let’s go.”

“
Tomorrow, maybe?” said Madden.
“Just a guess.”

“
A fiver says yer off.”

“
How about a pool? Ten bucks in
for closest to cast off time.”

“
I’m in,” said Harper, peering
through the serving hole.

“
Any bastard I catch whispering in
the commander’s ear gets a busted arm,” Graves waved his fist.
“Here’s my ten.” They filled out slips and passed them to Madden,
who stashed them away.

Trent joined them. Conversation ceased.

“
The
Helga
’s ready,” Madden
hinted.

“
Any sign of Schiller?”

“
None. The sooner we ship out the
better.”

“
Could he be up to
something?”

“
I don’t know, but whatever it is,
he’s trouble.”

Graves dug into a bowl of stew, “You want we should
snatch the creep and wrap him up in iron. We could toss him over
the side on the way over...sounds like nobody’d miss him.”

“
Is Captain Larsen aboard?” Hirsch
asked.

“
No. Later tonight,” Trent
replied, grabbing a mug.

“
Think he’ll catch on?” Hirsch
asked.

“
He shouldn’t. Everything is hid
good,” Graves said, chomping on a thick slice of hard, black bread.
“The guns are wrapped water-tight in plastic and we stashed’em
under the powder with the ammo cans and bandoliers.”

“
Where’s Harper?”

“
In the galley,” Madden said,
pointing with his fork.

“
More likely he’s off slurpin’ a
bottle somewhere,” Graves growled. “I swear he’s got stuff hid
aboard. I say, we find it and dump it over the side. Maybe dump him
over, too.”

Madden lurched to his feet. “Harper.” Harper stuck
his head out of the serving hole. “Satisfied?” he looked angrily at
Graves.

“
Let’s go over the details,
again,” Trent said.

The men groaned.

Hirsch stood up in mock seriousness, “It is obvious
to me that we are growing into a remote semblance of a fighting
team.”

They jeered at him.

“
You sound like a dumb officer,”
Harper jabbed. “You guys can laugh, but I don’t see anything funny,
You’re crazy to think we can pull this off and not get
killed.”

“
It could be worse,” Hirsch said.
“We could end up in jail.” They all laughed.

“
Do tell us more,” Graves
added.

“
Jail’s O.K.” Harper added, “I’ve
been there. You get three square meals and clean sheets.” They
groaned.

“
Well, I’m jittery,” said
Hirsch.

“
Don’t be,” Trent stated calmly,
after the laughter quieted down. “Get it into your thick skulls
precisely what is to come off, and when, and your assignment, and
then things will go smoothly. But, whatever happens, don’t panic.
The element of surprise is on our side; but I want no slip-ups.
And, no careless talk in front of the Captain.” There was a long
pause. “We go tomorrow at 0500. Now, let’s go over the details,
again.” The men groaned. When he had finished, there was dead
silence. The blue wreaths of smoke curled up lazily and hung
against the overhead. A serious mien had settled in.

Harper held up a little white slip. “Forty-bucks I
may never get a chance to blow.”

* * *

“
Let go bow line!” bawled Captain
Larsen, his hands cupped in the general direction of the bow.
Splashes were heard. “Let go aft!” The big loop end flopped through
the chock to slap loosely on the afterdeck. “Hold on to that
spring!”

“
Rudder amidships! Ahead
slow!”

“
Aye!” Madden repeated the
command.