James Chase - A Can of Worms

A gun banged and Jones reared back, clawing at the air. The gun banged again and Jones slid down on his knees and straightened out.

One down and two to go, I thought, watching tensely.

Coldwell began to bawl through the bullhorn.

“Pofferi! Come on out with your hands behind your head!”

The gas smoke was thinning. I thought of Nancy, and hoped they wouldn’t fire more gas bombs.

Then out of the shadows at the far end of the house came gunfire. One of the headlights of the car went out. Flashes lit up the darkness. I heard a cop yell. Another cop sprang upright, then staggered back and dropped.

The other cops and the Agents directed a withering fire in the direction of the flashes. Then I saw Pofferi, outlined in the light of the single beam, a revolver in either hand, move crab-like, half bent double, his white shirt stained red with blood, but he kept firing.

A burst of gunfire. I saw bullets slam into him. He was swept off his feet and fell.

I wiped the sweat off my face.

Two down, and one to go.

“Come on out, Lucia!” Coldwell bawled. “With your hands behind your head!”

A long pause, then I heard screams. Lucia came out into the dazzling light as if she had been projected from a cannon.

I saw her clearly.

She had on black slacks and a scarlet shirt. As she staggered through the doorway, she screamed, “Don’t shoot!” Her hands were waving frantically. She had an object in each hand. She hadn’t taken more than ten steps before she exploded.

There were two blinding flashes, two bangs that sent me rocking on the tree branch, then the whistling sound of shrapnel.

Rather than be taken, Lucia had blown herself to pieces, Japanese style, with hand grenades.

I looked down at the scene, feeling sick. All that was left of Lucia Pofferi was a ghastly mess of ripped flesh, intestines and shattered bones.

It was the finish!

I shimmed down the tree, ran across the road, paused to signal to Nick, hovering overhead, then ran up the drive.

The Agents and the cops were moving around: some of them attending to the two wounded cops, some checking Jones’ body, others Pofferi’s body. Coldwell was staring at the gruesome remains of Lucia.

I didn’t stop. I ran into the house, ran down the long corridor, pausing to throw open doors until I reached a locked door.

The gas smoke was now so weak, it only irritated my eyes. Standing back, I slammed my foot against the lock of the door. As I did so the electric current was restored and the corridor lit up.

The door swung open.

I stood in the open doorway, looking into a big, lighted room: a woman’s luxury bedroom. There was a double bed facing me. Sitting on the bed, her face in her hands, was Nancy Hamel. She was shivering, and frightened whimpers came from her.

Bart, baby, I thought, if she recognizes you and flips her lid, this set-up is going to turn sour. I moved slowly into the room.

“Mrs. Hamel.”

She stiffened, snatched her hands from her face and stared at me. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slack. Then like a frightened animal, she sprang to her feet.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Hamel,” I said in my soothing voice. “You are safe.”

She stared at me.

“My sister!” Her hands covered her face and she moaned. “She said she would kill herself. What happened?”

I began to relax. She hadn’t recognized me!

“It’s over, Mrs. Hamel,” I said. “I’m here to take you away from all this. Mr. Palmer has arranged to get you to the Spanish Bay hotel where you can rest. There’s a helicopter waiting.”

“Lucia is dead?” She stared at me. “They are all dead?”

“Yes. Let’s go, Mrs. Hamel. Is there anything you want to take with you?”

She hid her face and began to sob.

I waited, looking at her. She was wearing a dark green trouser suit. If she was to stay out of sight at the Spanish Bay hotel, she would need other clothes. I looked helplessly around.

“Mrs. Hamel!” I put a bark in my voice. ‘You’ll need things. Let me help you pack.”

She shuddered, then waved to a closet.

“The bag.”

I opened the closet door and found a big suitcase.

“Lucia told me to pack,” Nancy said. “She knew this was the end.”

“Let’s go.” I lifted the suitcase as Coldwell came to the door. “All set, Lu,” I said. “Take the bag. I’ll help Mrs. Hamel.”

I went to her and pulled her gently to her feet. With my arm around her, I led her to the front door. The car lights had been turned off, but the smell of Lucia’s disintegrated body hung foully on the hot air.

Nancy took one breath, screamed and fainted. I just managed to catch her, then scooping her up in my arms, hurried across to the waiting chopper. Coldwell helped me lift her inert body into the chopper.

Nick, his eyes bugging, took her from us and laid her across the back seat. Coldwell pushed in the suitcase, then stood back.

“Let’s go,” I said as I dropped into the seat beside Nick.

“Man! I saw it all!” he exclaimed as he gunned the engine. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!”

I wasn’t listening. As the chopper lifted, I turned around to look at Nancy. Her face was white, her eyes closed.

So far, fine, I thought. She hasn’t recognized me, but she surely must when she is out of shock. Play one card at the time. At least, you have established the fact that it was you who rescued her.

It took less than ten minutes for Nick to land on the Spanish Bay hotel helicopter pad. As he switched on the landing lights, I could see Mel Palmer, a nurse and two white coated interns, waiting.

As the chopper grounded, Nancy stirred, then sat up.

“What’s happening?” she demanded shrilly. “Where am I?”

I turned to face her. The light in the cabin was strong enough to light both our faces.

“Mrs. Hamel, you are safe,” I said. “You’re at the Spanish Bay hotel and Mr. Palmer is waiting to take care of you.”

She stared fixedly at me.

“Who are you?”

“The guy who rescued you,” I said, and gave her my boyish smile, but I was puzzled. It was hard to accept that she didn’t remember that time when we had sat facing each other on the terrace of the Country Club when I had tried to put the squeeze on her, but I could see she didn’t remember, and I began to relax. “You have nothing to worry about. You are now safe.”

Nick opened the door of the chopper. I slid out. Nancy got unsteadily to her feet. Nick helped her descend and I took over. She leaned against me as Palmer came fussily up.

The two interns took over. I stepped back to give Palmer room to go into his soothing act.

For tonight, there was nothing more I could do. I watched her being led across the roof with Palmer murmuring. Then at the elevator that would take them down to the penthouse, she abruptly turned.

“Where’s my bag?”

The strident, urgent snap in her voice was a complete give away. Up to this moment, she had had me fooled, but that snap in her voice sent a cold prickle up my spine. That wasn’t the voice of a woman who had just lost her sister, just lost her husband, a woman everyone described as ‘nice.’ This was the voice of a dangerous, ruthless terrorist!

For a long moment, I stood still, absorbing the shock. Then my brain moved into action. Here was the answer to the puzzle why this woman I had thought was Nancy hadn’t recognized me. Lucia Pofferi had never seen me! So how could she recognize me? Into my mind flashed the picture of the woman I had thought was Lucia, staggering out of the ranch house, screaming: Don’t shoot! Lucia had sacrificed her sister in a ruthless attempt to escape! She had strapped live grenades to Nancy’s hands, then kicked her out into the open, knowing when the grenades exploded, her sister’s body would be a mess of broken bones and flesh, obliterating her hands and her finger prints.