“One rental-car desk is still open. If theystop to make those
arrangements, I’ll warn you at once.
“Good.”
They reached the moving walkway and stepped onto the rubber belt. No
other flights had landed recently or were about to take off, so the
corridor was deserted. On the speaker system that served the long hall,
taped messages from Vegas showroom performers-Joan Rivers, Paul Anka,
Rodney Dangerfield, Tom Dreesen, Bill Cosby, and othersffered lame jokes
and, mostly, advice about safety on the pedway, Please use the moving
handrail, stay to the right, allow other passengers to pass on the left,
and be careful not to trip at the end of the moving belt.
Dissatisfied with the leisurely speed of the walkway, striding along
between the moving handrails, Sharp glanced down and slightly back at
Ince and said, “How’s your relationship with the l,a,s Vegas police?”
“They’re cooperative, sir.
“That’s all?”
“Well, maybe better than that,” Ince said. “They’re good guys. They
have a hell of a job to do in this city, what with all the hoods and
transients, and they handle it well. Got to give them credit. They’re
not soft, and because they know how hard it is to keep the peace, they
have a lot of respect for cops of all kinds.”
“Like us?”
“Like us.”
“If there’s shooting,” Sharp said, “and if someone reports it, and if
the Vegas uniforms arrive before we’ve been able to mop up, can we count
on them to conform their reports to our needs?”
Ince blinked in surprise. “Well, I.. . maybe.”
“I see,” Sharp said coldly. They reached the end of the moving walkway.
As they strode into the main lobby of the terminal, he said, “Ince, in
days to come, you better build a tighter relationship with the local
agencies. Next time, I don’t want to hear maybe.”
“Yes, sir. But-” “You stay here, maybe over by the newsstand. Make
yourself as inconspicuous as possible.”
“That’s why I’m dressed this way,” Ince said. He was wearing a green
polyester leisure suit and an orange Banlon shirt.
Leaving Ince behind, Sharp pushed through a glass door and went outside,
where rain was blowing under the overhanging roof.
Jerry Peake caught up with him at last.
“How long do we have, Jerry?”
Glancing at his watch, Peake said, “They land in five minutes.”
The taxi line was short at this hournly four cabs.
Their car was parked at the curb marked ARRIVALS UNLOADING ONLY, about
fifty feet behind the last taxi. It was one of the agency’s standard
crap-brown Fords that might as well have had UNMARKED LAW-ENFORCEMENT
SEDAN painted on the sides in foot-tall block letters. Fortunately, the
rain would disguise the institutional nature of the car and would make
it more difficult for Verdad and Hagerstrom to spot a tail.
Peake got behind the wheel, and Sharp sat in the passenger’s seat,
putting his attache’ case on his lap. lIe said, “If they take a cab,
get close enough to read its plates, then fall way back. Then if we
lose it, we can get a quick fix on its destination from the taxi
company.”
Peake nodded.
Their car was half sheltered by the overhang and half exposed to the
storm. Rain hammered only on Sharp’s side, and only his windows were
blurred by the sheeting water.
He opened the attache’ case and removed the two pistols whose
registration numbers could be traced neither to him nor to the D.S.A.
One of the silencers was fresh, the other too well used when they had
pursued Shadway at Lake Arrowhead. He fitted the fresh one to a pistol,
keeping that weapon for himself. He gave the other gun to Peake, who
seemed to accept it with reluctance.
“Something wrong?” Sharp asked.
Peake said, “Well . . . sir. .. do you still want to kill Shadway?”
Sharp gave him a narrow look. “It isn’t what I want, Jerry. Those are
my orders, terminate him. Orders from authorities so high up the ladder
that I sure as hell am not going to buck them.”
“But…”
“What is it?”
“If Verdad and Hagerstrom lead us to Shadway and Mrs. Leben, if they’re
right there, you can’t terminate anyone in front of them. l mean, sir,