Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 46, No. 11, November 1982

Several questions shot through Shayne’s mind. How critical was Tim? How was he going to get his friend off the island? Swimming him over was dangerous, if not impossible. Besides, if he concentrated all his efforts on just saving the loveable Irishman, he was as good as signing death warrants for the other five men who had only till dawn to live.

He made his decision quickly. His best chance would be to do the thing Raoul would least expect.

IX

A bird calling out overhead told Shayne dawn wasn’t too far away. From where he lay he could count four guards. The two on the bridge were given away by the orange glow of their cigarettes, while two others had just come out of the metal building with Remaley. The aide to McCord looked under a great deal of pressure.

Suddenly one of the men with Remaley turned and left. He walked down a path till he came to a tent and disappeared within. Shayne figured the rest of the army was somewhere around the northern point.

The big redhead, deciding to take them one at a time, chose the soldier talking to Remaley to be first. As he crawled closer, Shayne could see the guard’s hand was not on his gun. Of course it would have been difficult for a man of Remaley’s small size to overpower even a paperboy.

In his hand the detective grasped a pine knot. He had found it in the grove of trees on the camp’s outskirts where he had left Tim. With a few yards to go, Shayne got to his knees, then his feet. When the detective had come up behind the guard, Remaley spotted him and his eyes shifted to Shayne.

The guard must have sensed something too, for he spun around. Shayne swung the club with two hands like a baseball bat. He caught the soldier on the side of the skull, causing a cracking sound that reminded the detective of a home run.

“What the—” exclaimed Remaley.

Shayne handed McCord’s aide the guard’s gun. The alternative would have been to give the still-suited figure the pine knot, thus rendering him useless.

“Follow me,” commanded the detective. “We’re going for the two guys on the bridge.”

Remaley surprised the redhead the way he followed him from tree to tree, then on his stomach. He motioned for Remaley to take the right guard. Slowly Remaley moved in.

The left guard saw Remaley as Shayne knew he would. As the distracted soldier stepped toward McCord’s aide, Shayne raised the club and whacked it over the guard’s hands. The Uzi clattered to the sand. As Shayne reached for it, he heard a sharp command.

“One more movement, buddy, and you’re dead.”

It was Remaley.

Damn!

“Don’t say a word,” cautioned the aide. “Just march right back to the others. Rico,” he said to the conscious guard, “stay with me till we toss him inside.”

With two guns somewhere behind him, the detective did as he was told. The elderly quartet seemed surprised to see him.

“They told us they had executed you,” Harrow informed him.

The big redhead said, “It was a lie designed to help keep you in line.” He walked over to the table and looked at McCord. “I know how Alpha Red found out about your secret enterprise here — Remaley.”

“Peter?” said the industrialist. “But he came to me with the highest of credentials.”

“That mistake doesn’t matter now,” said the detective, rasping a thumbnail across his chin. His gray eyes scanned the four men. The plan he had been working on would have to begin right away — Tim’s life and theirs depended on it. “Now pay attention,” he ordered. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

The four men listened quietly with complete attention. It was the kind of concentration that had helped them to the top. Their interest improved their chances, but the odds were still heavily weighted against them.

McCord put up one final protest in the name of safety. Harrow probably spoke for the other two when he said, “Edward, if my time is up, I want to go out like a man — not a whimpering coward.”

In other circumstances, Shayne thought, it would have sounded like a line from one of Harrow’s movies, but right here and now he sensed its truth — for all of them. In coming back Shayne knew he had made the right decision.

“Juan, Esteban, Rico — you Spanish pigs,” called out the voice. “Get in here and get your leader out.”

The door to the metal building was thrown open, and two uniformed guards peered in looking for Raoul. Even watching Harrow, Shayne found it difficult to believe the ex-actor could imitate Raoul’s Spanish accent so perfectly.

“Raoul?” questioned one of the intruders. “Where are you?”

The lights in the building went out. Shayne didn’t know how Jerry had done it, but the former owner of Stokelectronics had struck exactly as he said he would — on cue.

Like pulling guards, Shayne and Phelps leveled the surprised soldiers with cross-body blocks.

“They went down easier than a couple of boola-boolas,” quipped the Harvard grad, his satisfaction overflowing.