They were slouched in armchairs in Harker's living room, bare feet up on the shabby cocktail table. They were nursing beers. It was cool enough to turn off the air conditioner and open the windows. They heard the scream of a siren speeding by on A1 A.
"That's the 911 truck," Rita said. "You know what they call this stretch of road? Cardiac Canyon."
"I'm liable to have one," Tony said, "if I don't get a few days off to unwind."
"So?" she said. "Take them."
"Can't," he said. "Too much happening. Things are really heating up. Right after you called I put a man on Rathbone at the Miami Airport, and we got a look at his ticket. He thought he was being cute, going to Costa Rica by way of Puerto Rico and Panama. So I had to arrange for a different agent to pick him up in San Juan, and another at Panama City. So he wouldn't spot the tail. A lot of phone calls, a lot of work to coordinate all that in a short time."
"And he's in Costa Rica now?"
"The last I heard. He got off the plane in San Jose, where a fourth agent took up the trail. This is costing Uncle Samuel a mint."
"He can afford it. What do you suppose David is up to?"
"You want me to guess? I'd guess he's preparing to make a run for it sometime soon. He probably has fake ID from that Gevalt guy, and he's been building up his offshore bank accounts. Maybe he's bought a house or hacienda, whatever they call it, in Costa Rica, and he's planning his retirement. Taking all his loot with him, of course. Has he said anything to you about leaving the country?"
Rita took a swallow of her beer. 4 'Not a word,'' she said.
"Well, I'll bet he's working on it. If he follows the pattern, he'll stick around long enough to make one final killing, then take off. We'll have to move in on him before that. The agent tailing him right now in San Jose will try to find out what name he's using. Then we'll be able to check other property and bank accounts in the Bahamas and Cayman Islands. If we can nail him under RICO, we'll take everything but the fillings in his teeth."
"Have you discovered what the Fort Knox Fund is?"
"Working on it. I think it's got something to do with drugs, but I haven't pinned it down yet."
She slumped farther down in her chair. "Drugs? David wouldn't have anything to do with drugs. He's strictly small-time."
"Don't kid yourself. If there's easy money to be made without too much risk, he'll be dealing and pushing like all the other punks. And drugs are only half of it. There's a good chance he's also working some kind of counterfeiting scam. I should know more about that next week. Rita, you've got to get rid of the notion that your Prince Charming is just a naughty boy clipping widows and divorcees for a few bucks. This man is a vicious criminal, and he's dangerous. Do me a favor, will you?"
She looked up at him. "What?"
"Get out. Now. I won't pull you because it'll look
like you weren't doing your job. But if you request reassignment, Crockett will find another slot for you; I know he will. And no one will blame you."
"No," she said. "I signed on for this particular job, and I want to be in on the kill. You have no complaints about the way I've handled it, do you?"
"No," he said in a low voice. "No complaints."
"Then let's have another beer and go to bed. And no more bullshit about taking me off the case. Okay?"
"Okay," he said. "If that's the way you want it."
Her tanned body was a smooth rope and entwined about him, her long hair making a secret tent for them both. The heat of her flesh made him wonder if he could be scorched by her intensity.
He heard himself making sounds he didn't recognize and couldn't stop. And then she was crying out, grasping him. If was only later, when he reached to caress her face, that he felt the wet and wondered if it might be tears.
"Better than a few days off," he murmured. "To unwind."
"That afternoon I met you," she said. "In your office. I thought you were nerdy."
"Did you? I suppose I was."
"Was, " she said. "Not now."
"The nerd turns," he said. "No more inhaler, no more allergies, no more nervous stomach. Marry me."
She laughed.
He propped himself on an elbow, peered down at her in the gloom. "I'm serious," he said. "Marry me."
She reached up to touch his cheek. "Tony," she said softly.
"That's really why I want you off the job," he said. "I want you out of his bed. I want you to resign. I want you to marry me."
"Oh darling," she said, "you want, you want, you want. It's very nice to hear, but I want, too. To be independent. Do it my way. I like my job, and I'm good at it; I know I am."
"Listen," he said, "I composed this speech. Can I recite it to you?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"You're the only woman I've ever met who can lighten me up. When I'm with you, I grin. If it's not on my face, it's inside. When you're away from me, I work nights and weekends and I don't know what I'm killing myself for. But when I'm with you, my life makes sense. It has meaning. I'm not only jealous of the time you spend with Rathbone, I'm jealous of the time you spend alone, doing your nails or sleeping or whatever. I want us to be together every minute. Obsessive? I guess. What it all boils down to is that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. End of speech."
She sat up in bed, hugged her knees. "Thank you," she said huskily. "You really know how to puff up a girl's ego. But you're talking about a big decision, Tony."
"I didn't expect you to yell, 'Yes, yes, yes!' But will you think about it? Consider it carefully and seriously?"
"Of course," she said. "This is my first proposal. Plenty of propositions, but only this one proposal. So I don't really, honey, know how to handle it. You're right; I better think long and hard about it."
"Do that," he said, leaning forward to kiss her knee. "Please. Don't just reject me out of hand. I've got some money-not a lot but some-and I make a good living; you know that. Also, if I can put Rathbone behind bars, that'll help my career. I just want you to know that I can support you, but if you want to keep on working, that's okay, too. But preferably not as a cop."
"Wow," she said, "you've really tossed me a fastball. I don't know what to do. Yes, I do."
She was so loving he wanted to shout his rapture. Her warm mouth drifted, tongue flicked, prying fingers tugged him along to ecstasy.
"Rita," he said, gasping, "I can't take this."
"Yes, you can," she said, and wouldn't stop.
She pleasured him as if she had a debt to pay, and only his gratification would wipe it out. Her ministrations became increasingly rapid; she seemed driven by a wildness that calmed only when he was drained of sense and vigor.
Then she slid out of bed, went into the bathroom, and didn't emerge for at least ten minutes. By that time Harker was standing shakily and gulping a fresh brew. She took the can from his hand and finished it.
"I've been thinking," she said, speaking rapidly. "Not about you and me but about business. Earlier tonight when we were talking about the case, and I said I wanted to be in on the kill, I meant I want to be around when the whole thing is wrapped up. But I don't want to be there when you take Rathbone. After all, I've led the lamb to the slaughter, haven't I? So I'd appreciate it if you could give me plenty of advance notice of when you intend to bust everyone and I'll make myself scarce. You can understand that, can't you?"
"Oh sure," he said.