I grinned down at her. “Do as I say, honey,” I asked her. “Believe me, you’ll find your way someplace else. I know you’re not ready, but that’s not important now. Move out, sweetie. It’s time.”
I kissed her quickly and left, hoping I’d scared her enough to get moving.
I headed for Karminian’s flat to pick up my things and find someplace else from which to operate. I was on that list Rashid had rattled off to the Casbah killers and staying in Karminian’s flat like a sitting duck would only be making their task easier. They were a completely unexpected development.
I could see the Russians wanting Karminian if they suspected him of selling to us or if they knew he had hold of something big involving them. But the fierce fighters from the mountainous Rif? It just didn’t fit in and yet they were in, in for murder.
I hurried through the silent, dark streets of Casablanca with the feeling that my discovery about Karminian was not the only strange twist in store for me in this thing.
Returning to Karminian’s place for my things wasn’t a poor move. It had to be done — I’d left too many things behind. It had been a long day, and I was starting to feel a little tired when I put two tubes of paint in my pocket, closed up the paint box, took a last look around the flat and then closed the door behind me.
I had just walked out the arched doorway when the two shapes appeared, one on each side of me, and I felt the hard end of two guns pressed into me. I looked at the small, hard-blue eyes of the crew-cut Russian, his lips grim, set in a thin line.
“We will kill you here if we have to,” he muttered.
I saw the black Mercedes 600 pull around from the side street.
“You don’t have to,” I shrugged. “I’m easy to get along with.”
Pig-eyes gave me a fast frisking and took Wilhelmina. Crew-cut took the paint box and handed it to the other one. They didn’t have to tell me to get into the Mercedes.
I followed Crew-cut in and sat down between the two of them. The chauffeur turned and stared at me for a moment, his eyes very much the same hard, cold blue as Crew-cut’s unblinking orbs. He put the car into gear and we rolled quietly away. Two revolvers were poking into me.
It wasn’t a spot for anything more than conversation.
“What’s this all about?” I asked for openers.
Silence was my only answer, cold, angry silence.
“Don’t tell me,” I tried again. “Let me guess. Let’s see now... you want your portrait painted.”
Crew-cut glared at me but said nothing.
I tried another tack. “If you think I know where Karminian is you’re wasting your time,” I said.
“Neither did Ivan but it didn’t stop you from killing him,” Crew-cut finally answered, his voice a low snarl.
“I didn’t kill anybody,” I protested.
I saw the Russian lift his arm and bring it around in a short, chopping blow, the gun still gripped in his hand. It landed on my cheek and upper lip and I felt the trickle of blood that immediately ran down the side of my mouth.
“Lying pig!” he spit out. “You thought Ivan knew where Karminian was and you killed him when he refused to tell you. Now we will do the same thing to you.”
My mind was racing and I deduced what had happened instantly. The Rifs had struck again but telling Crew-cut and his pals wouldn’t help any.
First, I didn’t want to clue them in on anything and secondly they’d never believe me anyway. All I could do for now was hold to my story.
“When was I supposed to have killed your Ivan?” I asked.
“You know very well when, swine,” he barked. “When you found he was alone in the house, waiting for a radio message from Moscow.”
“Why me?” I cut in. “It could have been anybody, even a thief.”
“Bah!” the Russian grunted. “You seek Karminian too. It took someone with strength, someone who knew how to use the Moorish dagger. That rules out either of the women. And you are not an artist. We believe you are an American agent.”
I almost said congratulations. They’d gotten one thing right anyway. But I could see where I’d be their logical suspect and I decided on a little fishing of my own.
“Did I only kill one of your men?” I asked. “There were five of you including that ape dressed up like a chauffeur.”
The “ape” turned to give me a hard look.
It was a good supposition for him anyway, and I’d found out what I’d wanted to learn. There were no others I hadn’t seen during our first go-round.
The Mercedes halted, and I saw the low-hanging crossbars forming part of the entranceway roof once again. I got out, and both their guns stayed in my ribs and this time the chauffeur came up behind us. They weren’t taking any chances with me.
“Panusky,” Crew-cut called out. “It’s Estan.”
There was no answer, and I felt a chilling premonition race through my body.
The Russian called out again and once more the house was silent.
I saw him frown.
“That’s strange,” he growled.
Pushing me along before them, they went into the inner room.
