James Bond yawned hugely. “Well, I’ll certainly be glad of some sleep. Came a long way today, and I’ve got plenty more to cover tomorrow. And you must be ready for bed, too, with all your worries.”
“Come again, mister?” The thin man’s eyes had sharpened.
“It’s a pretty responsible job you’ve got.”
“What job’s that?”
“Oh, being an insurance assessor. On a valuable property like this. Must be worth half a million dollars, I’d say. By the way, are either of you bonded?”
“No, we ain’t. Mr. Sanguinetti don’t need to bond no one what works for him.”
“That’s a great compliment to his staff. Must have good men. Quite right to put a lot of trust in them. Incidentally, what’s the name of his insurance company?”
“Metro Accident and Home.” The thin man still leaned, relaxed, against the counter, but the gray face was now tense. “Why? What’s it to you, mister? Suppose you quit with the double-talk and say what’s on your mind.”
Bond said carelessly, “Miss Michel here was telling me the motel hadn’t been doing so well. I gather the place hasn’t been accepted for membership in Quality Courts or Holiday Inns or Congress. Difficult to do much trade without one of those affiliations. And all this trouble to send up you fellows to count the spoons and turn off the electric light and so on.” James Bond looked sympathetic. “Just crossed my mind that the business might be on the rocks. Too bad if it is. Nice set-up here, and a fine site.”
The red fleck that I had seen once, terribly, before was now in the thin man’s eyes. He said softly, “Just suppose you bag your lip, mister. I ain’t standin’ for no more limey cracks, get me? You suggestin’ this ain’t legit? Mebbe you think we set one up, huh?”
“Now don’t burn yourself up, Mr. Horowitz. No need to sing the weeps.” James Bond smiled broadly. “You see, I know the lingo too.” His smile suddenly went. “And I also know where it comes from. Now, do you get me?”
I suppose he meant this was gangster, jailbird language. The thin man certainly thought so. He looked startled, but now he had conquered his anger and he just said, “Okay, wise guy. I’ve got the photo. You gumshoes are all the same—looking for dirt where there ain’t none. Now, where in hell’s that pal of mine? C’mon. Let’s hit the sack.”
As we filed out through the back door, the lights went out. James Bond and I stopped, but the thin man went on along the covered way as if he could see in the dark. Sluggsy appeared round the corner of the building carrying two oil-lamps. He handed one to each of us. His naked face, yellow in the light, split into a grin. “Happy dreams, folks!”
James Bond followed me over to my cabin and came inside. He shut the door. “Damned if I know what they’re up to, but the first thing to do is see that you’re properly closed down for the night. Now then, let’s see.” He prowled round the room, examining the window fastenings, inspecting the hinges on the door, estimating the size of the ventilator louvers. He seemed satisfied. He said. “There’s only the door. You say they’ve got the master key. We’ll wedge the door, and when I’ve gone, just move the desk over as an extra barricade.” He went into the bathroom, tore off strips of lavatory paper, moistened them, and made them into firm wedges. He rammed several under the door, turned the handle, and pulled. They held, but could have been shaken loose by ramming. He took the wedges out again and gave them to me. Then he put his hand to the belt of his trousers and took out a short, stumpy revolver. “Ever fired one of these things?”
I said I’d shot at rabbits with a long-barreled .22 target pistol when I was young.
“Well, this is a Smith and Wesson Police Positive. A real stopper. Remember to aim low. Hold your arm out straight like this.” He showed me. “And try to squeeze the trigger and not snatch at it. But it won’t really matter. I’ll hear it and I’ll come running. Now remember. You’ve got absolute protection. The windows are good solid stuff, and there’s no way of getting in between the glass slats, short of smashing them.” He smiled. “Trust these motel designers. They know all there is to know about break-ins. These hoodlums won’t take a shot at you through them in the dark, but, just in case, leave your bed where it is and make up a camp bed with some cushions and bedding in that far corner on the floor. Put the gun under your pillow. Pull the desk in front of the door and balance the television set on the edge of it so that if anyone barges the door they knock it off. That’ll wake you, and then you just fire a shot through the door, close to the handle, where the man will be standing, and listen for the squawk. Got it?”