Delta Factor, The by Mickey Spillane

place for the usual tourist, therefore making yourself a target for robbery. This was not the first or the last time such unfortunate incidents have occurred.”
    â€œListen ...” I started.
    He cut me off again. “The hotels and casinos have accommodations so guests can deposit their winnings in a safe place. There are signs and instructions in several languages to that effect. Instead, you chose to ignore them. Probably some despicable person took note of your winning streak and departure, and followed you hoping to obtain your money. Naturally, we will investigate. If you will sign ...”
    â€œForget it.” I pushed the papers back across his desk. “It’s too late now.”
    â€œThen there is little we can do. That is the law,” he said. “Of course, I would like to caution you against a similar situation.”
    â€œNice of you.”
    â€œNow, one more official duty.” His smile brightened noticeably. “You have your papers, naturally.”
    â€œAt the hotel,” I lied.
    â€œI see.” He rocked back in his chair, still the genial host. “Perhaps you should send for them. Or if that is an inconvenience, my men could accompany you to assure your identification.”
    â€œLook ... we’re registered at the hotel....”
    â€œAh, yes, we have checked that. But regulations being what they are ... and certainly we wish to protect American nationals ...”
    I played the game to its limit. I shrugged and said, “Okay, if you want to louse up our evening.” I reached in my pocket and thumbed off a pair of bills. “But if we can make it a little easier on everybody I’ll be glad to oblige.” I tossed the money down on the desk.
    â€œVery generous, Mr. Winters. Of course we are not interested in discomforting you and your wife. We are here to serve. I’m sure the incident can be forgotten, but I might suggest that in the future your visa be available for inspection.”
    â€œSure,” I said, “we’ll do that.”
    â€œThen my men will be happy to return you to your hotel.”
    â€œNever mind. I’ll hop a cab.”
    â€œAs you wish.”
    He was still smiling when he left, but his eyes were looking at the money.
    In the cab Kim squeezed my hand. “You didn’t fool him, you know.”
    â€œI didn’t intend to. He’ll just let the rope stretch out as long as he wants to.”
    â€œYou think they set that up?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause everybody I’ve seen around who’s armed is carrying a Czech-made automatic that fires a 7.65 millimeter bullet. The one who took a shot at us used a .38, firing standard U.S. ammo.”
    â€œThen it was a robbery attempt.”
    â€œKid,” I said, “you’ve been out of the field too long. A desk job has warped your thinking. A stickup is pulled at point-blank range, not from across the street. That was an assassination attempt.”
    â€œBut ... who?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m even wondering just who he was aiming at. It could have been you.”
    She took it calmly, turning her head to look at me evenly. “Possibly.”
    Before we reached the hotel I had the driver turn down the street where we were almost nailed, hopped out, retrieved the .45 and got back in the cab. If this kind of thing kept up I didn’t want to be caught without a rod.
    Â 
    I pointed to the hairline of light showing under the door and looked at Kim. She stepped to one side and shook her head, motioning with her hand that she had cut the switch before she left. I nodded, turned the knob and shoved the door open.
    There were two of them there, a lean, swarthy character in an immaculate uniform wearing two rows of medals and a holstered gun at his side and lounging comfortably in the big chair, a thickset man in a black Italian silk suit whose soft smile was really no expression at all. His