Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

The steel in her asserted itself, and she got to her feet. She would go immediately to Bern!

She snatched up her handbag, took a light dust-coat from the closet and walked into the living-room.

Hearing her, Hinkle came to the door of the terrace.

‘I am going to Bern,’ she said curtly. ‘I must arrange this ransom. I will be back some time this evening.’

‘Madame, may I suggest...’ Hinkle began, but she cut him short.

‘You may suggest nothing! I am shocked by your insinuations about Mr. Grenville! I will not tolerate such a narrow-minded attitude, although I understand why you have taken this attitude. I intend to marry Mr. Grenville when I get him back! You will either serve Mr. Grenville and myself, or you must leave! Is that understood?’

Hinkle stiffened, then looked directly at her. There was such a sad, shocked expression in his eyes that shame swept over her.

‘You are at liberty, madame, to do as you wish,’ he said quietly.

Furious with herself for feeling shame, Helga shrilled, ‘And I will do as I wish!’ She walked fast from the room, jerked open the front door and ran down the steps to the garage.

For a long moment, Hinkle stood motionless, then as he saw the Rolls drive away, he closed the front door and locked it.

He returned to the living-room. For some minutes he moved around the room, his face clouded, then abruptly, as if his mind was made up, he went along the long corridor to his own quarters. In his bedroom, he hunted for and found a leather-covered address book. He thumbed back the index F and found the name he wanted: Jean Faucon.

Reaching for his telephone, he dialled a Paris number.

Archer sat slumped in an armchair, staring bleakly around the shabby little living-room.

Where was Grenville?

Surely, Archer asked himself, Grenville couldn’t have been so reckless as to leave the villa and show himself on the streets? No! After Archer’s repeated warnings that Grenville must remain in the villa until the ransom was paid, he was sure Grenville hadn’t wandered out for a walk. Then what had happened to him? Why had he vanished? Where was he?

Archer thumped his fat knees with his fists. Just when it looked so good! He was certain Helga would pay! And now, Grenville had vanished!

Then a thought occurred to him. It could be that Grenville had lost his nerve, and as soon as Archer had driven away, he had left the villa, walked down to the bus stop and was already on a train, taking him from Switzerland! That could be the only explanation! This handsome, useless gigolo had lost his nerve and had bolted!

A surge of bitterness ran through Archer. It was all right for Grenville. He was still reasonably young, handsome, and with this sexual attraction which elderly women couldn’t resist. He could always find some stupid, rich woman who would keep him. He wouldn’t get a million dollars from her, but at least, he would be able to live in luxury.

Archer closed his eyes as he thought of his own future: back again to the shabby, fringe people with their hopeless plans to make millions, to float impossible loans, to sell land that they didn’t own, with him accepting miserable fees to do their legal work. That was his future: getting shabbier and shabbier, continually hunting for money on which to live. He thought of Joe Patterson. There was no hope of returning to him. He would now have to find another client, but not in Switzerland. Perhaps in England. He still had ten thousand francs in his Swiss account, but if he drew on that, he would have nothing left.

Grenville had seemed so sure of Helga. What could have happened to make him change his mind and bolt?

Damn him! Archer thought. Damn him!

There was now no point in remaining in this shabby little villa. Grenville was gone. The sooner he left Lugano and was on his way to England, the better. As he got to his feet, the front door bell rang.

Archer stiffened and his heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? Had Helga alerted the police? He thought that was unlikely, but he could never be sure of Helga’s reactions. Was this the police? He hesitated, then, as the bell rang again, he forced himself to go to the front door and open it.

The shock of seeing Bernie, smiling, standing on the doorstep, made Archer’s heart skip again.

‘Ah, Mr. Archer,’ Bernie said. ‘So nice to see you again. How are you?’

Immediately Archer’s shrewd, quick brain clicked into action. This short, squat, bearded Italian with his oily smile and menacing eyes must be the explanation of Grenville’s disappearance.

He forced a smile as he stood back.

‘This is a surprise, Bernie,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Bernie, still smiling, moved forward while Archer gave ground. Bernie stepped into the lobby.

‘We have affairs to discuss, Mr. Archer,’ he said.

‘Come in.’ Archer led the way into the living-room. ‘What is it?’

Bernie looked around, then selecting a chair, he sat down.

‘Mr. Grenville has been kidnapped,’ he said.

As soon as he had seen Bernie standing on the doorstep, Archer knew he was in for trouble, but this statement shook him.

‘Kidnapped? By whom?’

‘By me.’ Bernie smiled. ‘Mr. Archer, you are an amateur. Your faked kidnapping was stupid. I have taken over the operation. To get Grenville back, this Rolfe woman will have to pay ten million dollars. I am prepared to pay you and Grenville five hundred thousand dollars each to cooperate, but the rest of the money comes to me. You are to be my go-between. You will tell this woman the ransom has been increased from two to ten million.’

‘Ten million!’ Archer gasped. ‘She won’t pay!’

‘She will when she gets one of Grenville’s ears which you will deliver to her.’

Archer’s legs suddenly felt boneless and he dropped into an armchair.

‘Mr. Archer, this is now no longer a game,’ Bernie said. ‘I have Grenville, and I am quite prepared to send her his ear, and if she even hesitates, I will send her one of his fingers. I mean business, Mr. Archer, not like your childish bluff with tomato ketchup.’

Archer shuddered, then he pulled himself together.

‘You must handle this yourself,’ he said. ‘I am leaving immediately. I will have nothing further to do with it!’

Bernie laughed.

‘Mr. Archer, you will do what I tell you.’ He produced from under his coat the silenced Luger. ‘I assure you, I will shoot you if you don’t cooperate. This gun makes no noise. You will be found here after some time, dead and rather smelly, and the police will have no idea who shot you. So you will cooperate.’

Archer stared with horror at the menacing gun.

‘Yes... all right,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘Yes, I will do what you say.’

Bernie nodded and put away the gun.

‘Sensible man.’ He paused, then went on, ‘I understand you have given this woman three days to collect the two million dollars. That is all right. It is good for her to sweat. On the third day, you will go to her and tell her she must now find ten million dollars in two days. Unless she does, you will give her one of Grenville’s ears.’

At this moment, the telephone bell began to ring.

Bernie waved to the telephone.

‘Answer it, Mr. Archer.’

Moving unsteadily, Archer got out of his chair and picked up the receiver.

As soon as he said, ‘Hello,’ Grenville’s hysterical voice exploded over the line.

‘Jack! I’ve been kidnapped! This is your fault! These men are vicious! You’ve got to do something! I should never have listened to you! You’ve got to get me free! They are threatening to cut my ear off! I...’ There was a click and the line went dead.

Shaken, Archer replaced the receiver.