Джеймс Чейз - Believe This... You’ll Believe Anything

I saw him through the glass wall of my office as he came into the outer office. He was tall, lean, possibly in his early thirties, dark and immaculately dressed in a lightweight white suit that had been sculptured on him by the loving hands of an expert. Looking at his tanned profile, I decided he had to be a movie star. No movie producer would let a profile like this go without a struggle.

Sue Douglas, my woman Friday, was on her feet, giving him her big generous smile of welcome. Few men could resist Sue: she was one of those cuddly, warm attractive girls who make you think of Koala bears and who you want to stroke.

Her smile made no impact. He regarded her the way you would regard a fly that had dropped into your martini. Under his unfriendly stare, her smile wilted a little. He looked around the office until he saw me at my desk. We regarded each other through the glass wall, then side stepping Sue, he crossed to the door of my office and entered, closing the door gently behind him.

‘Are you in charge here?’ he demanded. That he was English, educated at Eton and Cambridge became immediately apparent. During my six months stay in England, I had learned something about the various class accents of the English and there was no mistaking this one.

‘That’s correct.’ I got to my feet and gave him my version of a smile of welcome. ‘Clay Burden. Something I can do for you?’ I waved to the client’s chair which he regarded suspiciously, then having satisfied himself it wouldn’t spoil his beautiful white suit, he sank into it.

‘You have just opened here?’ he asked and glanced around critically.

‘Yes... we have been open for exactly six days Mr....?’

He frowned at me, then lifted his elegant shoulders in a gesture that conveyed as plainly as if he had spoken, ‘For God’s sake, don’t you even know who I am?’

‘My name is Vernon Dyer. I suppose you wouldn’t know that. I am extremely well known here.’

‘You have the advantage of me.’

‘I take it you are a newcomer to Paradise City?’

‘Yes. I am from Boston, Mr. Dyer.’

‘I should have thought your agency would have chosen a local man.’

I let that one ride.

‘Is there something I can do for you?’

If there was he appeared in no hurry to tell me.

‘Is this all you have here: yourself and a girl?’

‘That’s all there is room for,’ I said. ‘The hotel would only spare so much space, but it is adequate.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought so. The American Express have a staff of fifteen.’

‘Then they are not housed in the Spanish Bay hotel which is, as I am sure you know, the most exclusive hotel in the City.’

‘I’m not interested in the hotel,’ he said curtly. ‘I am interested in getting a top class, travel agency service.’

‘Then you have come to the right place, Mr. Dyer. We don’t handle the paper work here. We are here to give information, advice and so on while our head office in Miami issues tickets, traveller’s cheques and in fact all the necessary paper work which comes to us by fast courier. For example, you may want to fly to New York. We can tell you the flights, book your seat, arrange for your ticket either to be delivered here or at Miami airport. This office gives personal advice. If that’s what you are looking for, you will get it.’

He digested this as he crossed one leg over the other. ‘I take it you will have heard of Mr. Henry Vidal?’

I was now getting a little bored with his arrogance. ‘Mr. Henry Vidal? No, I’m afraid not. His fame so far hadn’t reached Boston at the time I left,’ I said. ‘No one has mentioned the name to me since I arrived here so I have to admit Mr. Vidal doesn’t strike a note with me.’

He stared at me, not sure if I were conning him. I kept a bright look of interest on my face so he said, ‘I would say Mr. Vidal is the most important and influential man in Florida.’

‘That puts him ahead of the Kennedys, Mr. Nixon and the late Mr. Truman.’ I said gently. ‘It is extraordinarily remiss of me not to have heard his name.’

Two tiny red spots showed on Dyer’s thin cheeks and his eyes snapped.

‘Are you being impertinent?’

‘Not intentionally, Mr. Dyer. Is there something I can do for you?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘I am Mr. Vidal’s personal aide. Mr. Vidal has decided to transfer his account from the American Express to your organisation. I can’t imagine your organisation can be less efficient than the American Express. Let us hope not.’

‘I’ll be happy to do my best for Mr. Vidal,’ I said.

He studied me.

‘You probably imagine that this account will be small and difficult, Mr. Burden.’

Well, at least he had remembered my name.

‘Small or large; difficult or easy makes no difference Mr. Dyer. We are here to give service.’

He put on his fly-in-his-martini expression.

‘I hope so. Very well, consider yourself on trial. Open a checking account in the name of Vidal Enterprises. All transactions will be done through me on Mr. Vidal’s behalf.’

‘Will you give me some idea of the amount of credit involved?’

‘I have just closed our account with the American Express and settled their six monthly statement.’ He paused, watching me, then said, ‘The amount was one hundred and thirty thousand dollars.’

I stared at him, not believing I had heard aright. My startled expression seemed to give him immense satisfaction.

‘Does that mean the account would be around two hundred thousand in a year?’ I asked.

He flicked an invisible speck off his trouser knee.

‘Yes... give and take. Could be more.’

I drew in a long, slow breath. This was an account I was not going to lose.

‘You want the statements half yearly?

‘That is our method of payment.’

I wondered how head office would react to this, but if the American Express were content to carry Mr. Henry Vidal for one hundred thousand for six months, the American Travel Services would probably do the same.

‘I’ll make immediate arrangements,’ I said. ‘There are naturally a few formalities...’ I let it die and looked at him.

‘Of course.’ He took from his wallet a folded sheet of paper. ‘Here are the necessary details. Mr. Vidal’s address. The names and addresses of his attorney, his bankers and his brokers.’ He put the paper on my desk. ‘You will find everything in order. In the meantime, send me a schedule of flights for the next week to Tokyo, Johannesburg and Hong Kong. Two passengers to a flight, single. Everything V.I.P. They are to be met at the various airports by private car, to be at their disposal for six days. You will arrange luxe hotel accommodation also for six days, American plan. As soon as I get your estimate of the cost, I will give you further details. All correspondence should be addressed to me at Mr. Vidal’s residence. Have you got all that?’

I said I had.

He rose to his feet.

‘Then good day to you.’

Without offering to shake hands, he left the office, swept past Sue without seeing her and made his way along the broad hotel corridor lined with boutiques, a drug store, a branch of Luce & Fremlin, the fashionable jewellers, Saks, Elizabeth Arden and the rest of them.

I watched him out of sight, then beckoned to Sue who came in.

‘Who was that arrogant honor?’ she asked.

‘That was Vernon Dyer. We could be seeing a lot of him!’

Briefly, I explained.

Her eyes popped wide open.

‘Two hundred thousand?’

‘That’s what he said. Now to check.’ I scribbled on a pad, tore off the sheet and handed it to her. ‘Get an estimate for this lot Sue, with time schedules for next week.’ She nodded and returned to her desk.