Flashpoint by Dan J. Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page B

you!" the blonde retorted. She tried to slam the door but Erikson had a shoe wedged inside. He shouldered the door open, and we walked into a midget-sized hallway. "You get out of here!" the blonde shrilled. She had a voice like the sound of a rat tail file on rusty metal.
        "You can get us out of here by answering a few questions," Erikson told her. "Or maybe you'd rather answer them downtown?"
        "You're not local," the woman informed him. "And if you're not, you don't have any jurisdiction here." She looked as though she weighed only ninety-eight pounds, but she also looked competent. I had a feeling that this one was a survivor.
        "Call your lawyer," Erikson suggested.
        She made no move toward the phone on the table.
        "What about that charter flight?"
        "The phone call was from New York," she said reluctantly.
        "Why was your husband selected to make the flight?"
        "If he knew, he never told me. Not that I'd have tried to stop him. We needed the cash. With him wasting his time out at that piece of desert acreage instead of supporting-"
        "What about the call?"
        "Well, I took the message. Frank was away, and he called New York when he came back. The charter customer-"
        "Frank called New York? You had a number for him to call? Where is it?" Erikson rapped at her in one breath.
        "It's probably still in my handbag. Wait a minute." Her bare feet slap-slapped into the next room and back again. "Here."
        Erikson looked at the number scrawled on a torn scrap of paper. "Judson two-four-seven-O-five," he read aloud. He shoved the paper into a pocket. "What else?" he demanded.
        "Nothing else," the blonde said spiritedly. "I wasn't at the field when the man came."
        "And a good thing for you," I told her. Her eyes widened as though she hadn't thought of that aspect of it before. "And for the Mexican kid. The boy said the charter customer used the name Hawk. Did you get the feeling it was a nickname or his surname?"
        "I didn't get a feeling one way or the other."
        "Thanks for your trouble," Erikson said, and started for the door.
        I lingered. "See to it that the kid gets the wages due him," I suggested to Elaine.
        "What the hell do you mean?" she flared up.
        "You wouldn't want the wages-and-hours boys looking over your shoulder."
        "I'll have you know I pay my bills!" she rasped.
        Outside, Erikson beep-beeped the horn of the rented car. "Fine," I said, and left.
        "Those two men the kid at the airport described were Israeli intelligence agents," Erikson said as I got into the car. "They didn't lose any time."
        He drove until he found a street telephone booth. I waited in the car while he made his call to check out the telephone number he'd retrieved from Dalrymple's wife. "It's a bar on Lexington Avenue not too far away from Grand Central," he said when he returned.
        "Does that tell us anything?"
        "Not from this distance it doesn't." Erikson sat there frowning, his big hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. Finally he turned his head and looked at me. "You're still the only one who's seen this hijack character. How'd you like to make a quick flight to New York with me?"
        "I don't think so," I demurred. "Hazel has a few things for me to do around the ranch." I'd been thinking of going to New York ever since I heard the phone number, but I didn't want to go with Karl Erikson looking over my shoulder.
        "You weren't listening, Earl." Erikson's tone changed. "I said that you're the only person to this point who can identify the hijacker. It happens to be important to the government, and as the government's representative, I'm here to persuade you to cooperate with us."
        I didn't like the way he said it. "Persuade?" I repeated. "Cooperate?"
        "I'm sure that Hazel would prefer to have you return to the