Trading Secrets (34 page)

Matt was considering another beer when the front doorbell sounded. With a strong feeling of premonition, he got to his feet and padded barefoot through the kitchen to the living room.It was hot outside on the patio and he was wearing an open throated khaki shirt and slacks. He’d picked up the shirt at the cleaners this morning, finally satisfied after having tried four different cleaning establishments.

“Ah, the polyester suits,” he murmured, as he opened the door to the two government types. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The one on the left frowned, fishing out his ID with a casually authorative gesture. “You’re Matthew August?”

“In the flesh. What can I do for you?”

“May we come in for a few minutes? We’d like to talk to you. My name is Crawford and this is Mr. Adams.” He nodded briskly at his clone.

“Make yourselves at home. Want a beer?” Matt gestured expansively toward Sabrina’s persimmon sofa. “Try not to track dirt onto the carpet, gentlemen. I just vacuumed it.”

“We’ve been sent by Henderson, the man you apparently wakened in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. There are some loose ends to be tied up and he asked us to see to it.”

“Did you want beer or not?”

“No, thank you,” Adams said politely. He sat down beside Crawford and covertly checked to see that he hadn’t dirtied the white carpet.

“Okay,” Matt muttered, sitting down across from the men, his own beer still in his hand. “What do you want from me?”

Crawford cleared his throat. “Henderson would like you to go back to Buena Ventura.”

Matt loked down at the label on his beer. “Why?”

“Because we are tentatively extending some support to Valdez and his, uh, constituents. Unofficial at the moment, of course, but Henderson says we don’t have much choice.”

“Because if you don’t, you’re all due to be severly embarrased by the unexpected prescenceof one Rafferty Coyne on te island, right?” Matt smiled too pleasantly.

“It has nothing to do with that,” Crawford declared staunchly.,”There has been a reassessment of relations with the Estes government and a decision has been reached to withdraw support from it. Valdez is the only other viable focus ofpower on the island.”

“He’s come a long way from UCLA,” Matt agreed

Adams took over the conversation. “Apparently you enjoy Mr. Valdez’s confidence. Henderson would like you to act as liaison for us.”

Matt grinned. “Not a chance. Give Valdez my best. Tell him when he gets things settled, I’ll bring the wife and kid down to Buenaa Ventura for a vacation. Pour a little filthy capitalist spending-money into his new economy.”

Adams became very severe. “You don’t seem to understand, Mr. August. Your government is requesting your assistance.”

“I’m declining. Got other things to do in life. Sure you won’t have a beer?”

“You can contribute greatly to the transition in the power structure on that island,” Crawford began deliberately.

“I can contribute absolutely nothing. No one’s going to be able to tell Valdez what to do. Not me, not anyone else. He’s an independent. If you want his cooperation, you’d better give him a little respect. And don’t try to manipulate him. He won’t go far left if you don’t push him into it. Believe me, his basic political philosophy is fairly democratic. Don’t make the mistakes you did with Castro and you’ll be fine. He’ll make a good ally. Try to push him around and you’ll lose him.”

“We’re not looking for advice from you, August, we’re looking or cooperation.”

“Advice is free. You can’t afford my cooperation.” He drained the beer.

“Come on August, Henderson says you’re ex-Army. Excellent record until the screw-up at the end. A guy who carries out his duty,” Adams said.

“I’ve had a recent change in assignment.”

"Henderson's not going to like this," Crawford warned ominously.

“Henderson knew calling on me was a long shot.” Matt shrugged. “I told him that night on the phone that I was out of it. He can’t even prove I was ever on Buena Ventura. Coyne had me use a phony passport.”

“Henderson and the department are extremely upset about this whole situation. Do you realize how much cash Coyne drained off over the past two years to finance his operations? There are hundreds of thousands unaccounted for!”

“If you folks didn’t try to keep so much cash unaccounted for in the first place, you wouldn’t run such a risk of losing it through people like Coyne. If you think Henderson and the department are concerned, you should ask the average taxpayer what she thinks about that kind of mismanagement.”

“Henderson told us you might not be very cooperative at first, but he felt certain—”

Sabrina’s key scraped against the lock. Matt got to his feet. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my wife,” he said. “A taxpayer.”

Sabrina shifted her huge purse and opened the front door. She came to an immediate halt as she took in the sight of the two men sitting on her sofa. Matt was smiling blandly as he came forward to drop a possessive little kiss on her surprised mouth. She glared first at him and then at the two in blue polyester.

“If you’re from the IRS I’m going to sue on grounds of harassment,” she declared. “I mean it this time.”

Crawford and Adams got to their feet. “We are not from the IRS, Mrs. August. We’re here to see your husband about an entirely unrelated matter.”

“But you’re from the government?” she questioned severely. Matt merely watched in amused silence.

“Yes, ma’am, we are.” Crawford seemed to think that should silence her.

“Then kindly get out. Now.”

“You don’t understand, Mrs. August. This is a matter of national security.” Adams narrowed his eyes.

“I understand perfectly. Now please leave.” She stood in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips, her eyes full of the determined challenge she was feeling.

“I’ve been trying to get them to go, honey,” Matt apologized. “They’re being difficult.”

“You people think you can get away with anything, don’t you?” she accused disgustedly. “Well, I’ve got news for you. This is Texas. We don’t let people run roughshod over us down here. My husband is a very busy man and so am I. We don’t have time to deal with you.”

“We’re here to offer your husband an excellent, short-term job with the government,” Crawford began smoothly. He was clearly unprepared for the fury that leaped into Sabrina’s eyes.

“Out! Get out or I’ll call the newspapers. I’ll call my congressman. I’ll call everyone. I’ll make such a fuss that whatever ‘secret’ plans you’ve got will be blown sky-high! Is that clear?”

“Mrs. August,” Adams said, beginning to look desperate.

“You heard my wife,” Matt interposed gently. “Better be on your way.”

Crawford glanced at him with sudden wariness. There was an edge in Matt’s voice that seemed to make an impression.

“Henderson will be unhappy.”

“Henderson knows there wasn’t much chance of trying to get me to cooperate. He just thought he’d give it a try. Don’t worry. He’s expecting the answer you’re going to take back to him.” Matt moved forward and opened the door. “Hate to rush you, but I’ve got some chores to finish up before I put dinner on the table. Time to put the clothes in the dryer.”

Adams and Crawford looked bewildered, but they found themselves at the door and then out on the step. “There could be a lot of money in this for you, August.”

“There could be,” Matt agreed as he closed the door in their faces.

Sabrina watched him as he turned and started back toward her. Her pulse was pounding too swiftly, she realized, and it wasn’t just from dealing with Crawford and Adams. She eyed Matt’s bland expression.

“You really told them to get lost before I got here?”

“I was about to kick them out the door when you arrived home and took over the job for me,” he assured her cheerfully.

She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he removed the clothes from the washer and stuck them into the dryer. She had reacted from instinct when she’d seen the two men seated on her sofa. Now she was having qualms. “Matt, you’re sure?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m sure.” He set the controls on the dryer and then led her out onto the patio. En route he pulled another couple of beers out of the refrigerator. “Very, very sure.”

She looked up as he pushed her gently into the lounger next to his. But the certainty in his eyes was clear. “Thank God,” she murmured. “I was scared to death when I walked in the door and saw them.”

Matt leaned back and tipped the bottle to his mouth. “Believe me now?” His mouth crooked humorously.

“Yes.”

“I love you, you know,” Matt said calmly.

Sabrina nodded, tasting the cool beer on her tongue. “Yes, I know. Good thing, too, because I love you.” It all seemed very basic, very clear now. It wasn’t something that hit you over the head. It was something that took shape gradually and became an unalterable fact of life.

They drank half the beer in a companionable silence and then Matt said softly, “I don’t believe I ever showed you what I brought back from Buena Ventura.”

Sabrina blinked. “No, I don’t believe you did.”

“Come on into the bedroom and I’ll dig it out. A connoisseur such as yourself will no doubt appreciate it properly. I wanted to wait to unwrap it until I was sure we’d seen the last of the polyester suits.” He got to his feet.

Sabrina followed him curiously, watching as he halted at the closet and began to lift dirty clothes out of the hamper. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her breasts. A slow smile curved her mouth as Matt removed Rafferty Coyne’s elegant briefcase from the bottom of the hamper. He put it on the bed and opened the gold clasps.

Sabrina gazed at the contents of the briefcase for a long moment.

“Nice pen,” she finally observed.

The next morning after breakfast Matt went to the bank to deposit the fifty thousand dollars that had remained in the case after he’d split the total with Valdez. Together with the proceeds from the sale of the bookstore in Acapulco there would be enough to open a new shop here in Dallas. Rafferty Coyne’s private slush fund had been easy enough to bring back through customs. No one had questioned the government ID Matt had carried.

That night in bed Sabrina laughed silently up at him from the pillow.

“I think you’ve lost all respect for authority,” she told him.

“Not surprising. Considering the company I keep.”

“There’s hope for you yet, Major,” she told him as his mouth came down on hers.