Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

Archer nodded.

‘I want to see and talk to them.’

‘Of course, Mr. Archer. You talk to them, and if they aren’t satisfactory, tell me, and I will look for two other men.’

‘They are here now?’

‘Sure. In the evening, this is their home.’ Bernie regarded Archer, and Archer, taking the hint, produced a thousand franc bill. ‘A friend of Moses,’ Bernie went on, slipping the bill into his pocket, ‘is a friend of mine.’

He went to the door and jerked his thumb.

Two men came into the room. One was tall, thin, with hair down to his shoulders. His white face was narrow, his eyes close-set. His companion was bulky, older than the other by ten years. His dyed, straw-coloured hair looked like a disturbed bird’s nest. His fat face was featureless, but the small, black eyes were probing.

They were both wearing shabby jeans and dirty sweat shirts. They came to the table and stood looking at Archer. He didn’t like the look of either of them, but Moses Seigal had said Bernie was to be relied on. One had, he told himself, to make do with the tools one was given.

‘Sit down,’ he said.

They sat down.

‘I’m Segetti,’ the fat man said. ‘He’s Belmont.’

‘Bernie tells me you two are reliable.’ Archer put on his tough expression. ‘You had better be! A friend of mine wants to be kidnapped to frighten some sense into his girlfriend. There is no question of the police coming into this. It is a joke against his girlfriend, but it has to look convincing. Your job will be to rush into the villa, take the man — he will put up no resistance — then drive him to another villa and leave him there. That’s all you have to do. You will forget the whole thing, and return to Geneva. The villa is outside Lugano.’

Segetti nodded.

‘Bernie told us it would be all right. It’s fine with us.’ He leaned forward, his little black eyes glistening. ‘How much?’

‘Shall we say two thousand francs each?’ Archer said.

Segetti looked sad.

‘Not quite enough, Mr. Archer. We will lose work, leaving Geneva. We could lose our jobs. I think five thousand each would be better.’

‘Four thousand each, and not a franc more,’ Archer said curtly.

The two men looked at each other.

‘Right,’ Segetti said, ‘but all expenses?’

‘Yes.’

‘And half now?’

‘No. A thousand francs each now, the rest when you have done the job.’ Archer produced two one-thousand franc bills and put them on the table. Segetti picked up the bills and put them in his pocket.

‘I want you to wear hoods. You must look frightening,’ Archer went on. ‘And guns, of course. Is that a problem?’

Segetti smiled.

‘Hoods and guns are no problem. I understand what you want.’

‘The kidnapping will be in three days’ time: that is on the evening of the 18th. I want you two to be at the Hotel de Suisse, Lugano at 14.00 on the 18th. I’ll be staying there. We will finalize all the details when we meet. Bring the guns and the hoods with you. Is that understood?’

Segetti nodded.

‘You have a car?’

Segetti nodded again.

Archer produced a five-hundred franc bill.

‘This will take care of your expenses. So it is agreed: we meet at the Hotel de Suisse, Lugano at 14.00 on the 18th.’

‘It is agreed,’ Segetti said, pocketing the five-hundred franc bill.

While they had been talking, Archer had become more and more aware that Segetti’s companion had said nothing, but had sat, staring down at his hands.

‘And you, Belmont? Is it agreed?’ Archer asked, a snap in his voice.

‘Jacques always agrees when I agree,’ Segetti said quickly. Both men got to their feet. ‘Then we see you later, Mr. Archer.’ With a little wave of his hand, he walked from the room, followed by Belmont.

Bernie came into the room.

‘Is it satisfactory, Mr. Archer?’

‘I think so. Look, Bernie, I did a good job for Seigal,’ Archer said. ‘He assured me you fixed things. I’m relying on you. Are you absolutely sure these two men can be relied on?’

‘Cross my heart and cut my throat. Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Archer. You pay them fair, and they will deliver.’

Archer, still uneasy, got to his feet.

‘They are getting eight thousand francs for less than an hour’s work. Do you call that fair?’

Bernie nodded.

‘That’s big money for them. Yes, Mr. Archer, you have no problems.’

Archer shook hands.

‘Could you get me a taxi?’

‘There’s one right outside, Mr. Archer. I hope to see you again.’

When Archer had driven away, Segetti and Belmont came out of the toilet where they had been waiting for Archer to go.

‘What goes on?’ Segetti asked, joining Bernie at the bar.

‘This could be an interesting and very profitable setup,’ Bernie said. ‘This fat fink, Archer, once worked for Herman Rolfe who was loaded with the stuff. Keep in touch with me, Max. I want to know who this guy is who wants to be kidnapped, and I want to know who his girlfriend is. As soon as you know where the kidnapping is to take place, telephone me. Understand?’

Segetti nodded.

‘We’ll want hoods and guns.’

‘Is that so terrible?’ Bernie grinned. ‘I’ve got hoods and guns. What I want is information.’

As Helga, followed by Grenville, walked through the Geneva customs, she saw Hinkle waiting at the barrier.

Although only fifty-two years of age, Hinkle looked considerably older. He was short, rotund and balding. White wisps of hair softened his florid complexion. He had had the thankless task of nursing Herman Rolfe, a polio victim, for fifteen years. When Rolfe had died, Hinkle had transferred his loyalty to Helga, whom he admired.

The news she had told him that she was in love disturbed him. He was well aware of her weakness for men, but seeing her approach, looking radiant, he thought hopefully this could be, at last, the real thing, but then, looking beyond her at Grenville, he had immediate doubts. This tall, too handsome, too suave man sent up a red light in Hinkle’s mind.

‘Dear Hinkle!’ Helga said, grasping his hand. ‘How I have missed you!’ Turning to Grenville, she went on, ‘Chris, this is Hinkle whom I have told you about.’

Grenville had no time for servants. He nodded distantly, then said, ‘The luggage, Helga. Perhaps he will take care of it,’ and gave Hinkle the luggage stubs as if conveying a favour.

‘Yes, sir,’ Hinkle said.

From that moment, they were enemies.

Hinkle turned to Helga.

‘The new Rolls is just outside, madame. If you will give me a few minutes,’ then snapping his fingers at a waiting porter, he walked away.

‘Chris, darling,’ Helga said. ‘Please... Hinkle is very special. Do be nice to him.’

Realizing he had made a faux pas, Grenville said hurriedly, ‘Sorry. Of course.’

They went together from the airport lobby to where the Camargue Rolls stood waiting.

‘Some car,’ Grenville said, impressed.

Helga walked around the Rolls and then clapped her hands.

‘It’s really marvellous!’ She got in the rear seat and as Grenville joined her, she took his hand. ‘Oh, Chris! This is rally when I appreciate the power of money! I’m so lucky! And now... you and I... I know you will love the villa.’

Within a few minutes, Hinkle slid under the driving wheel, the luggage in the boot.

‘Is all well at Paradise City, Hinkle?’ Helga asked.

‘Yes, madame. The garden is looking very well.’

‘I told Transel to prepare the villa.’

‘So I understand, madame. Whilst waiting for your arrival, I telephoned him. All is in order.’

Helga patted Grenville’s hand.

‘You see how Hinkle takes care of me.’