Джеймс Чейз - I Hold the Four Aces

She experienced a sudden clutch of fear. Was Hinkle ill? Had he had a heart attack after his exertions the previous day? She went quickly to her bedroom and dressed, putting on a red trouser suit. She was dressed in less than three minutes, then she ran down the long corridor that led to Hinkle’s room. She rapped loudly on the door, waited, her heart thudding, then rapped again. Silence greeted her. Bracing herself, she turned the door handle and opened the door.

Peering into the room, she saw the bed had been made, the room was in immaculate order, but no Hinkle.

Panic now nibbling at her, she ran back along the corridor and opening the front door, she went to the garage. Hinkle’s VW stood beside the Carmague Rolls. So he hadn’t gone down to the village! Then where was he?

Had he gone into the garden, and there had a heart attack? She ran down the steep steps, looking to right and left, until she reached the gate, leading to the main road. The gate was locked. Satisfied that Hinkle was not in the garden, she took the chair lift back to the villa.

Where was Hinkle?

It was during the short run up to villa in the chair lift that Helga realized what this loyal servant really meant to her. She knew him to be her only true friend. Now, his absence frightened her. Had he decided to leave her? No! He would never do such a thing without telling her first! Then what had happened?

Where was he?

The little cabin of the chair lift came to rest, and she got out and walked across the terrace into the living-room, wondering if she should call the police, then she came to an abrupt stop.

Sitting in a lounging chair, a cigarette hanging from his lips was a short, squat man with a heavy black beard, flat features and small glittering black eyes. He was wearing a dirty blue polo neck sweater and grey trousers on which were several oil stains. He held in his lap an electric hand drill which he had plugged into a nearby socket.

The sight of this evil-looking man sent shock through Helga, turning her cold. She realized that she was alone with him. There was no Hinkle to protect her, but the steel in her made an effort to assert itself, and she said, her voice steady, ‘What are you doing here?’

Bernie grinned at her. He switched on the drill and leaning forward, bored a hole in the antique coffee table by him. Having made the hole, he levered out the drill and then bored another hole. Then he switched off the drill.

‘Handy tool, isn’t it, lady?’ he said.

Helga drew in a shuddering breath.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, not moving.

‘I thought it was time, lady, to talk to you,’ Bernie said. ‘That fink Archer didn’t seem able to convince you that we mean business. From what he tells me, your lover boy now doesn’t mean a thing to you. I was going to cut off his ears, but he sold me another idea.’ He leaned forward and bored another hole in the table.

So Archer hadn’t been bluffing! This terrifying creature must be a Mafioso, Helga thought. Looking at him, she realized he was far too vicious and ruthless for her to attempt to handle.

‘What do you want?’ This time her voice was unsteady.

He levered the drill bit free.

‘Fifteen million dollars, lady, in bearer bonds.’ Then he leaned forward, and with a snarl in his voice, he went on, ‘I have your servant, Hinkle. Grenville said Hinkle was important to you. Is he?’

Helga felt faint. Moving unsteadily, she dropped into a chair.

‘Where is he?’

‘You’ll see. You and I are going to him now.’ Bernie bored yet another hole in the table. ‘You will see how useful this tool is, lady. Unless you pay up, I’ll give you a little exhibition that will make you change your mind.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I’m not going with you!’

Bernie regarded her evilly.

‘I said let’s go, and listen, lady, have you ever thought what happens when a fink gets a drill bit like this through both his kneecaps? You play along with me, lady, or your fink servant won’t walk again.’

Helga felt the blood drain from her face. She had always had a horror of violence, and this obscene threat nearly turned her sick... and to Hinkle!

‘I’ll pay.’ She got unsteadily to her feet. ‘I’ll call my bank now.’

Bernie studied her, nodded and grinned.

‘That’s being sensible, but no tricks. Go ahead and fix it. I want the bonds here by tomorrow morning or else this drill goes into action.’

Shaking, Helga went to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

‘That will be quite unnecessary, madame,’ Hinkle said in his fruity, bishop’s voice.

Helga spun around.

Standing in the french windows, flanked on either side by two tall, heavily-built men, both with automatic pistols in their hands, was Hinkle: admittedly an unshaven, crumpled-looking Hinkle, but still, Hinkle.

Bernie started to his feet, dropping the drill, as one of the big men moved over to him.

‘Hello, Bernie,’ the man said. ‘You have had a long run, now it’s our turn. Come on.’

Bernie eyed the gun, then shrugged.

‘You can’t pin anything on me, Bazzi,’ he snarled, ‘and you know it.’

The big man smiled.

‘We can always try, Bernie. Let’s go.’

Bernie glared at Hinkle, then moved across the living-room. The two police officers followed. The front door slammed. A car started up and drove away.

Hinkle said, ‘I must ask you to excuse me, madame. I am looking dishevelled. If you would be kind enough to give me a few moments, I will get you some coffee.’

Tears began to run down Helga’s face. She went to him, and putting her arms around him, she hugged him.

‘Oh, Hinkle! I was so frightened! If they had done anything dreadful to you...’

‘Madame!’ Hinkle’s voice was sharp. ‘You must excuse me for a few minutes,’ and giving her a fatherly pat on her shoulder, he disengaged himself and walked fast to his quarters.

Helga dropped into a chair and continued to cry.

She had stopped crying, and was in control of herself, when Hinkle, immaculate, pushed in the coffee trolley.

‘I suggest a little cognac mixed with the coffee, madame,’ he said. ‘It is good for the nerves.’

Her lips trembling, she forced a smile.

‘You think of everything, Hinkle, but I don’t drink a thing unless you join me, and please sit down.’

Hinkle raised his eyebrows.

‘I mean it!’ Helga said sharply.

‘Very well, madame. I will get a second cup.’

There was a pause, then Hinkle returned, carrying a cup and saucer. He poured coffee into the two cups, added the cognac, then sat down, opposite Helga.

‘Madame, I have to apologize,’ he said. ‘I have exposed you to a terrible experience, but I assure you, the police insisted it was the only way to trap these ruffians.’

Helga sipped her coffee. Hinkle’s quiet presence had a soothing effect on her.

‘Tell me, Hinkle. I want to know what happened.’

‘Of course, madame. As you are aware, I telephoned my nephew-in-law, Jean Faucon, about Mr. Grenville. What you didn’t know is that I told Faucon about the whole situation, and that Mr. Grenville had been supposedly kidnapped and that Mr. Archer was demanding a two million dollar ransom. Faucon alerted the Swiss police. Inspector Bazzi had had this villa watched now for the past two days. He wanted to find out where Mr. Grenville and Mr. Archer were hiding. When I got rid of Mr. Archer, a police officer followed him to a rented villa in Paradiso, and this man Bernie appeared. Apparently, Bernie is well-known to the police, but he has been astute enough not to give them any evidence to arrest him. The police followed Mr. Archer and Bernie to a small shop in Lugano and a watch was kept. The Swiss police are patient. They waited. Apparently, Bernie decided, as you appeared to have lost interest in Mr. Grenville, to kidnap me. This move was unforeseen by the police, but as our villa was under guard, there was no reason for alarm.