Heaven Is High by Kate Wilhelm Page B

quash any charge of kidnapping made by Domonic. But would it be enough to put a hold on deportation? Would they deport Binnie to Haiti or to her legitimate family? Her status as an illegal alien would not be changed. Call her grandfather, Augustus Santos? Plead for help? Reluctantly she nodded. She had to try, even if it was a long shot.
    Barbara paced until she was exhausted. She needed expert help, she knew, and there wasn’t enough time. Martin was right. There wasn’t enough time. Just get a delay, she thought tiredly at last and got ready for bed.
    *   *   *
    It was a few minutes before nine the next morning when her doorbell rang. Expecting to see Bailey when she opened the door, she was surprised instead to see Nicholson. She did not open the door wider to invite him in.
    â€œMs. Holloway, may I have a few minutes of your time?” he asked, glancing up and down the street.
    â€œI’m afraid not,” she said. “I’m quite busy this morning. I delivered your message to Mr. Owens and I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss.”
    â€œYou said something that I took to heart, Ms. Holloway. You asked why I didn’t make my proposal to Mr. Owens myself, and at this desperate time for him and his wife, I think you’re absolutely right. My problem is that I don’t know where to find them.” He smiled and spread his hands wide apart. “If you would be so kind as to give me an address, or even a phone number, that would be most helpful.”
    His high-pitched voice irritated her as much as it had before, and now it had acquired a whining tone that made it even more hateful.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch when they’ve made up their minds. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my own work.”
    He held the door open. “Ms. Holloway, it is the duty of law-abiding citizens to assist government investigations if asked to do so and especially officers of the courts, as attorneys are, are even more obliged to render such assistance. It is not a good idea to antagonize any federal agency, to have it recorded in your file, which is shared by all agencies.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Nicholson. Good day.” She closed her door hard against the resistance of his hand, then went to her window to watch him walk to a parked car, get in, and drive away.
    A few minutes later when the bell rang again, she checked at the window before opening her door to Bailey. There was no car parked at the curb except her own this time. Bailey was carrying a beat-up duffel bag partly over his shoulder.
    â€œWhat’s that for?” she asked when he came in.
    â€œMy gear,” he said. “Junior detective kit. Cost me twenty-five cereal box tops. I smell coffee.”
    â€œCome on,” she said, going to the kitchen table where she had the carafe and cups ready. “Did you see Nicholson? He wants to know how to locate Martin Owens.”
    â€œIs that who he was?” He pulled his notebook from the duffel bag and made a note.
    â€œYou got his license plate number?”
    â€œSure,” he said. “Guy shows up at your door, you don’t let him in, he’s trying to hold the door open or push it open, then off he goes, looking pretty sore. Interesting. I parked down the street, walked back in case he wasn’t gone far. I’ll run a check just for fun. And,” he said as she poured coffee, “I have some dope about piracy from 1960 to ’65 in the Caribbean and Gulf areas. Four incidents. The accounts.” He put photocopies on the table. “Plus a pretty good article about the Santos Shipping Company of Belize. It’s a biggie. The guy will have plenty of influence.”
    â€œGreat,” Barbara said. “Good work, and fast, the way I like it. I’ll look over the piracy stuff while you look over this.” She gave him the