"I'll get to the airport and play it by ear. I don't think they've alerted everybody. It was a hush-hush deal, until it went sour; now they're still picking up the pieces."
"The bank won't be open for hours yet," said Margareta. "Go to sleep and don't worry. I'll take care of everything."
I made it to the bedroom and slid out on the big wide bed, and consciousness slipped away like a silk curtain falling.
I knew I wasn't alone as soon as I opened my eyes. I hadn't heard anything, but I could feel someone in the room. I sat up slowly, looked around.
He was sitting in the embroidered chair by the window: an ordinary-looking fellow in a tan tropical suit, with an unlighted cigarette in his mouth and no particular expression on his face.
"Go ahead, light up," I said. "Don't mind me."
"Thanks," he said, in a thin voice. He took a lighter from an inner pocket, flipped it, held it to the cigarette.
I stood up. There was a blur of motion from my visitor, and the lighter was gone and a short-nosed revolver was in its place.
"You've got the wrong scoop, mister," I said. "I don't bite."