Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

Dazed, Grenville nodded.

‘That would be wonderful. I’ll tell Mr. Patterson. He will be delighted.’

‘I am sure he will.’ The blue eyes were steely. ‘All right, Chris, this has been very exciting. I have had a long day. Leave all the arrangements to me. Let us meet in the lobby tomorrow evening at 19.00. Then together, we will fly to Nice.’

He realized, with a sense of shock, that she was dismissing him.

‘I was hoping...’ he began, but stopped as she got to her feet.

‘Later, Chris... then tomorrow.’

As he reached for the papers and the brochure, she said curtly, ‘Leave those. I want to study them. Good night, Chris. I am sure we are going to have fun.’

For the first time in his career as a gigolo, Grenville felt completely dominated. He kissed her hand, then bewildered, he let himself out of the suite. He stood in the corridor for several moments, then pulling himself together, he hurried to his own suite. He telephoned Archer and gave him a blow-by-blow account of the evening.

He heard Archer draw in a deep breath of exasperation.

‘I told you she was nobody’s fool!’ Archer exploded. ‘I warned you! You’ve blown it! She now knows this is a con!’

‘But she is taking me to Vallauris tomorrow!’ Grenville said, his voice high-pitched. ‘If she knows it is a con, why should she do that?’

‘That shows how little you know about her, but you’ll learn,’ Archer said sourly. ‘She is after your body. Now listen, Chris, do exactly what she wants you to do. Don’t argue with her. Go along with her. My idea is germinating.’

‘For God’s sake! What idea?’

‘Give me a few more days, and remember, Chris, don’t ever imagine you can outsmart Helga. She is very special.’ He paused, then went on, ‘But I can. Go along with her, and leave the rest to me,’ and hung up.

Grenville stood on the balcony of his room at the Carlton Hotel, Cannes, feeling the hot sun against his face. He looked down at the crowded Croisette. For the first time in his gigolo life, he felt unsure of himself and unhappy.

The previous day, in Paris, he had talked to Patterson, telling him that Helga wanted to see the site at Vallauris. Patterson beamed and clapped Grenville on his shoulder.

‘So she’s biting! You’re doing a swell job, Grenville! When she sees the site, she’s going to get really steamed up! It’s a beaut! Now, here’s what you do: call Henri Leger when you get to Cannes. You’ll find him in the book. He’s the guy who is handling the site. He’ll take you both there. Once she has seen it, the deal’s as good as fixed!’

Grenville had hoped to see Helga, but the concierge at the Plaza Athénée Hotel had told him that Madame Rolfe had gone out and he had no idea when she would be returning.

After a lonely, unhappy day, wandering around Paris, Grenville was in his suite when Helga telephoned. The time was 18.00.

‘See you in an hour, Chris, in the lobby,’ she said briskly. ‘Everything is arranged. Bring enough clothes for a week.’

Never before had a woman given him orders. He attempted to assert himself.

‘Helga... I...’

She cut him short.

‘Later Chris... I have people here,’ and she hung up.

Then Archer telephoned.

‘How is it going?’ he asked.

‘God knows!’ Grenville said. ‘She’s getting on top of me! I don’t know if I can stand her much longer! She’s treating me like a damned gigolo!’

Archer laughed sourly.

‘That’s what you are, aren’t you? Take it easy. My brain child is getting underway. When you get to the Carlton, telephone me. Now, remember, Chris, be her gigolo... get her into bed!’

Angrily, Grenville slammed down the receiver.

But he was in the lobby at 19.00 with a suitcase. He was aware that Patterson, sitting in an alcove, a whisky in his hand, was watching.

Helga appeared with the manager of the hotel. There were elaborate good-byes, tips, handshaking while Grenville stood and watched.

Finally, Helga came to him, smiling.

‘Let’s go, Chris.’ She laughed. He thought she was looking young and marvellous, and very alive.

There was a chauffeur-driven Cadillac waiting. While they were being driven to Orly airport, Helga chatted. She had had a dreadful day with her colleagues.

‘The fuss men make about buying a site!’ she exclaimed and threw up her hands. ‘I’m so glad to get away from them! Tell me, Chris, what have you been doing today?’

What had he been doing? Nothing, but he pulled himself together, and launched into a fictitious visit to a picture gallery on the Left Bank, but he quickly realized she wasn’t listening.

There were two porters to handle the luggage at the airport. There was an air hostess to take them to the V.I.P. lounge. Grenville was aware that he was just an onlooker, a role that irritated him, and he realized for the first time the power of Rolfe’s millions. On the plane, two air hostesses administered to them. The Flight captain came and shook hands with Helga, ignoring Grenville. She seemed to know him for she asked after his children. Grenville found he was no more than a stooge, and he turned sulky, but Helga apparently didn’t notice. She talked gaily, laughed and enjoyed herself.

There was a Mercedes waiting for them at the Nice airport. The chauffeur, an elderly man, took off his cap as Helga approached. She shook hands with him, and asked after his wife, while Grenville waited, feeling like a dummy.

The drive to Cannes took only twenty minutes. The manager of the Carlton Hotel was there to greet Helga. He bowed distantly to Grenville, scarcely seeing him as Helga introduced him to Grenville.

‘Chris, I’m tired, tomorrow,’ she said, and was whisked away, while he took the second elevator to his room.

Now, this morning, a note arrived with his breakfast.

Bore! I have business. Enjoy yourself. Meet me in the lobby at 21.00. Helga.

This woman was beginning to frighten him. He had told her he had visited the site at Vallauris. Now, he realised how stupid that lie had been. She would expect him to take her there tomorrow, and he hadn’t the vaguest idea where the site was! He had to do something about that! He called Henri Leger’s office.

A girl said, ‘Monsieur Leger is out. He won’t be back until this afternoon.’

‘I am acting on behalf of Mr. Joe Patterson who has an option on a site at Vallauris,’ Grenville said. ‘Can you tell me where the site is situated?’

‘Mr. Leger is on the site now,’ the girl told him. ‘Madame Rolfe is with him.’

Grenville felt a chilly sensation run up his spine.

‘It’s all right, don’t bother,’ he said and hung up.

He remembered Archer’s warning. Don’t ever imagine you can outsmart Helga.

Well, all right, he thought, then I play along with her. The crunch will come after I have slept with her. That is what Archer has kept telling me. At least, I am covered. I have always told her this promotion is ridiculous.

He put a call through to Archer.

‘It’s all right,’ Archer said, after listening to Grenville’s tale. ‘By now, she has found out Patterson’s promotion is a lemon, but she is still interested in you. Play the innocent. I’m coming down, and I’ll be at the Clarice Hotel tonight. I am almost ready with my idea. Take it easy, Chris. We are going to get two million dollars out of her. She’s smart, but I am smarter.’

Grenville hoped to God he was.

He was in the lobby at 21.00, after spending a day wandering around the shops at Cannes, then taking a swim, but not enjoying a moment of it.

Helga, in a turquoise-coloured silk chiffon dress and a white fox stole, swept out of the elevator and joined him.