James Chase - You Have Yourself a Deal

“Okay,” Girland said. “I’ve already thought about the terrace. Is this Malik?”

“It must be, but I have no proof,” Dorey said bitterly. “The roads and airport are being watched. If he heads south, I will let you know.”

“I’ll talk to O’Leary right away. I’ll get him to put a man up on the Corniche.”

“Do that.”

“Oh, another thing. I want to see the file you have on Kung. Can you let me have it?”

“Why?”

“I know nothing about him. If she says something connected with him, I want as much information about him, to make sure she isn’t talking nonsense, as I can get.”

“Has she said anything yet?”

“She said something about a black grape.”

“A grape?”

“Yes. I don’t know what it means... it could mean nothing, but if she’s going to let drop things like that, I want to be sure I’m not missing anything.”

“Well, all right, I’ll send the file down with O’Halloran’s men. What exactly did she say about this grape?”

Girland told him.

“Hmm. Well, I don’t know. Extraordinary. All right, Girland, keep at it and report to me anything else she comes out with,” and Dorey hung up.

Girland left the villa and went down to the lodge. He told O’Leary what had happened.

“Get a man and a dog up on the Corniche. From up there, a class shot could pick us off like rabbits.”

“Oh, no,” O’Leary said firmly. “You’re wrong. I’ve checked from the Corniche. There’s no way down and the villa is completely screened from the road. If I had thought there was any danger from up there, I would have had a man there right away, but our rear is safe. Trouble is my business, Girland. You look after the woman. I’ll take care of the trouble.”

“I want a man and a dog up there,” Girland said quietly. “It’s an order, O’Leary.”

The two men stared at each other, then O’Leary, his eyes sparkling with anger, said, “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He paused, then added, “but it’s a waste of a man.”

“You’re getting another six by tomorrow... and that’s what I want.”

Girland returned to the villa and walked slowly up the stairs, his mind occupied. He paused at Erica Olsen’s door, opened it quietly and looked into the room. She was sleeping, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow, her face with its classical beauty, relaxed and peaceful.

Girland closed the door and went along to the bathroom. He took a cold shower, then carrying his clothes, he walked the few paces to his bedroom and opened the door.

A small voice said, “Mark... please... don’t put on the light.”

He stood in the doorway, his clothes held against him, covering his nakedness.

“Ginny?”

“I don’t care! I know I will lose you tomorrow. Once that woman is up, you will never even look at me.” The moonlight coming through the slats in the wooden shutters gave him enough light to see Ginny sitting up in his bed, holding the sheet against her. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Ginny, darling, I could never hate you.”

Girland moved across the room, dropped his clothes and sat on the bed. He pulled the sheet from her.

“But, Ginny, are you sure?” His arms went around her slim, naked body.

“I know I am shameless,” she whispered, her fingers caressing his back, “because I am so very sure.”

She was an irresistible gift that Girland took gently and with pleasure.

Malik and Smernoff completely fooled the police who were watching for them on all roads leading south. They drove rapidly to Le Touquet Airport, then chartered an air taxi to Aix-en-Provence Aero Club. There one of Smernoffs men was waiting for them in a fast car. They drove through Draguignan, Grasse, Tourettes and down to Cagnes-sur-Mer. Here, in a shabby villa by the sea which one of the Soviet Embassy’s contacts owned, they sat around a table and Malik questioned Petrovka who Smernoff had alerted as soon as they suspected that Nice was the likely hiding place.

Petrovka, thin and young, with a burning ambition to be as successful as Malik, had gone to Dorey’s villa while Malik and Smernoff were on their way down to Cagnes. His report was brief and to the point.

“The villa is impregnable,” he said. “There is no way of breaking in except by a frontal attack. There are six heavily armed men guarding the place.”

He then produced a sketch map of the villa which Malik studied. Malik lit a cigarette and pushed back his chair.

“This needs thinking about. A frontal attack is out of the question.” He pointed to the map. “Are you sure we can’t get down the mountain from the upper road? Is there no path?”

“There is no path shown on the local maps.”

Malik made an impatient movement.

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Go there at once and make sure.”

Petrovka got to his feet.

“At once,” he said and left.

Malik looked at Smernoff, his green eyes glittering.

“He should have checked. He is a fool.”

Smernoff shrugged.

“Show me anyone as young as he who isn’t a fool,” he said. “I have to make do with what I can get.”

There were a number of French and American tourists on the 7.30 a.m. flight from Paris to Nice which arrived at 8.55 a.m. Among them was a young Chinese girl who carried a violin case. She wore a cheap-flowered dress and stiletto heel shoes. She walked a little awkwardly. She passed through the police barrier with the other tourists and then walked out into the lobby.

Jo-Jo, in a bad mood because he had had to get up so early, came over and joined her. He had no interest in Chinese women. He thought their short, thick legs unsightly and their hips so much lumps of meat.

“Have you got it?” he asked the girl as she paused before him.

“Yes.”

“Then come on.”

He walked out of the airport to where he had parked the 404. The girl followed him, stumbling a little, but very proud of her stiletto heels. They got in the car and Jo-Jo, driving carefully, headed for Villefranche.

Neither of them said anything during the drive to Ruby’s hotel. Pearl greeted the girl. In the security of their bedroom, Sadu opened the violin case and took from it a .22 rifle, neatly in half, a telescopic sight and a silencer. The gun was a beautiful precision firearm made by a Japanese hand. He handed the gun to Jo-Jo.

“Well, there you are,” he said. “I have done my job, now you do yours.”

Jo-Jo carried the gun to the bed and sat down. He assembled the gun, screwed on the silencer, then clamped on the telescopic sight. Walking to the window, he aimed at a distant tree. His movements were so efficient and professional that Sadu felt a little chill in spite of the stuffiness of the room.

Jo-Jo turned and smiled. He seldom smiled, and his thin, vicious face became even more vicious as he showed his badly-discoloured teeth.

“It’s a beaut,” he said. “She is as good as dead.”

A movement near him brought Girland abruptly awake.

“It’s all right,” Ginny said softly. “I’m going back to my room.”

“What’s the time?”

“Just after six.”

Girland sighed, stretched and turned on his back. Ginny, sitting on the edge of the bed, her blonde hair a little tousled, her naked back to him, was groping with her feet for her slippers.

He reached out and pulled her backwards across his chest.

“Hello, Ginny,” he said. “Don’t go yet.” His hands closed over her small breasts and he kissed her ear.

She jerked away and scrambled clear of him. Snatching up her wrap, she put it on.

“No, please. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Girland crossed his hands at the back of his neck and regarded her.