Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

‘But that’s what we want her to think, Chris,’ Archer said patiently. ‘You are taking this far too seriously. There is no chance of you two getting married. You have done very well. Keep it up. When you go back, tell her you will work for her and the sooner you can marry her, the happier you will be.’

Grenville took out his cigarette case and lit a cigarette.

‘The thought of being married to her makes my blood run cold. Are you sure it is going to be all right? When can you get me away from her?’

Again Archer regarded him, feeling contempt. What would he give to change places with this handsome, useless dummy?

‘Tomorrow night you will be kidnapped and your worries will be over,’ he said. ‘Things are very definitely going our way.’

‘I hope they are. You have no idea how possessive and domineering she is! I’ve never met such a woman.’

‘Do try and relax,’ Archer said soothingly. ‘Everything is arranged. Tomorrow night at ten o’clock, two men will arrive, wearing hoods and carrying guns. They will threaten you both. You should put up a very minor show of resistance, but don’t overdo it, as these two are amateurs. Go with them. They will leave Helga a note which I have prepared. I will coach them what to say to her. I assure you they will say enough to stop her calling the police. They will drive you to a villa I have rented and I will pay them off and then I will take over. I assure you, in less than a week, you will be worth a million dollars. It is really as simple as that.’

Grenville stubbed out his cigarette in the ash-tray.

‘But what about Hinkle?’

‘Yes... there’s Hinkle.’ Archer frowned. ‘What time does he go to bed?’

‘God knows! Last night Helga sent him to bed after dinner.’

‘To be on the safe side, we will make the kidnapping at eleven o’clock. Suggest Hinkle leaves you two alone.’

‘He may stay up.’

‘Then one of my men must take care of him. And another thing, Chris, you must unlock the front door. I know the villa. There is no way to get in except through the front door. There is a loo in the vestibule. Excuse yourself, once you know Hinkle is out of the way, then unlock the front door... understand?’

Grenville nodded.

There came a tap on the car window and both men looked around. A policeman in a white helmet, brown uniform and jackboots was looking at them.

Exasperated and nervy, Grenville pressed the button to lower the window.

‘What is it?’ he barked in Italian.

‘You are in a no-parking zone, sir,’ the policeman said. ‘I am giving you a ticket.’

‘To hell with that!’ Grenville snapped. ‘There are no parking places in this stupid town! You people should get parking properly organized!’

Archer, who had lived in Switzerland for a long time and knew how touchy the Swiss police were, was horrified.

The policeman’s eyes hardened.

‘Your papers, sir.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Grenville opened the glove compartment and gave the policeman the car’s papers.

After taking some time examining the papers, the policeman again regarded Grenville.

‘This is not your car?’

‘You can read, can’t you?’ Grenville snapped. ‘The car is owned by Madame Herman Rolfe. You may possibly have heard of her. She lent me the car.’

The policeman’s face became stony.

‘Your passport, sir.’

As Grenville travelled so much, he always carried his passport with him. He handed it to the policeman.

Then Archer made a stupid mistake. He intervened. Taking out his wallet, he produced one of his old business cards, giving his name and the address of his late firm of international lawyers.

‘As you will see, officer,’ he said in his smoothest manner, ‘Mr. Grenville is English and is not used to continental regulations. I assure you, Madame Rolfe has lent him this car. He is staying with her as her guest.’

The policeman studied the card, then handed it back. He returned the car papers and the passport to Grenville.

‘Please don’t park in a no-parking zone in the future, sir,’ he said, saluted and motioned Grenville to drive on.

As the Rolls drifted away, the policeman, who had an excellent memory, began to write in his notebook. He was puzzled that a man so shabbily dressed as Archer was could claim to be an international lawyer.

‘The bastard!’ Grenville muttered as he continued on along the lake road.

‘For goodness sake, Chris!’ Archer said nervously. ‘You can’t talk that way to a Swiss policeman. That was very stupid of you.’

‘To hell with him!’

He pulled into the parking lot of the Eden Hotel.

‘Let’s have a drink.’

The two men walked onto the terrace and took an isolated table. They sat down and Grenville ordered two gin martinis.

‘Now look, Jack, this has to come right,’ he said. ‘Tell me about these men who are going to kidnap me. Are you sure they are reliable?’

Archer waited until the drinks arrived, then he began to talk.

Grenville returned to the villa a little after 15.00, feeling relaxed. Archer had convinced him that in a few days he would own a million dollars with no strings attached. He had played nine holes with the pro and had beaten him so easily that the pro had generously said that Grenville was the best golfer he had ever played with and that pleased Grenville.

He drove the Rolls into the garage and then entered the villa. As he closed the front door, he could hear Helga talking on the telephone, so he went to his bedroom, took a shower, changed, then wandered into the living-room.

Helga was wearing her hard expression, but it softened at the sight of him.

‘What a morning!’ she said. ‘These fools! They have been driving me out of my mind!’ She pushed aside a mass of papers spread out on the desk and getting to her feet, she ran to him and kissed him. ‘Dear Chris! Tell me the answer... tell me it is yes!’

‘It is yes,’ Grenville said and picking her up, he carried her into her bedroom and kicked the door shut. ‘And we will have an immediate dress rehearsal.’

‘You’ll shock Hinkle!’ Helga said, but she was already slipping out of her trouser suit.

‘To hell with Hinkle! I have myself a wife.’

Ten minutes later, lying side by side, naked on the bed, Helga, ecstatically happy, began to tell Grenville about her wedding plans.

‘We will go to Paradise City. I have a wonderful place there on an island. It’s perfect. There is a cottage which you can have while I make the announcement. It must be a big, big wedding, Chris! There are so many important people and their wives, my executives and people we deal with who must be invited.’

Grenville cringed at the thought, but he gently stroked her hand.

‘I am the luckiest man in the world,’ he said, thinking by tomorrow evening he would be free of her, never see her again, and own a million dollars.

A gentle tap sounded on the door and Hinkle said through the door, ‘Mr. Winborn is on the telephone, madame.’ He spoke in his doleful, disapproving voice.

‘Oh, damn the man!’ Helga said furiously, but she snatched up the telephone receiver by the bed. ‘What is it, Stanley?’ She listened, then said, ‘No! We will not pay a dollar more! This is a try-on! For God’s sake, Stanley, can’t you handle this instead of bothering me. I’m trying to relax.’

Grenville slid off the bed and went into the bathroom. God! he thought, to be married to this commercial machine! She was still talking when, dressed, he wandered out onto the terrace.

‘Some tea, sir?’ Hinkle asked, appearing.

‘A double whisky and soda,’ Grenville said and sat down.

Helga didn’t appear for half an hour.