James Chase: You Have Yourself a Deal

The nurse retreated a step.

“I can’t tell you that. You must ask at the Information desk,” she said. “If they want you to know, they will tell you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sadu saw Jo-Jo leave the car, moving as swiftly and as silently as an attacking snake. He came up behind the nurse as she was beginning to move away. His right hand flashed up and the nurse gave a choked cry and then fell forward. Instinctively, Sadu grabbed her, holding her against him. He looked wildly down the long dark boulevard. In the far distance he could see two men coming briskly towards them.

“Get her into the building!” Jo-Jo snapped. “Quick!”

Sadu realised it was the only thing to do. He picked up the unconscious girl and ran with her across the sidewalk and into the darkness of the building. He stumbled over the debris scattered on the ground as he reached the inner lobby. Jo-Jo joined him.

“Put her down.”

Sadu lowered the girl on a pile of cement sacks.

“You’re mad!” he gasped as soon as he could get his breath. “She’ll recognise me! What the hell do you think you are doing?”

Jo-Jo knelt beside the girl. He knocked off her white cap, then seizing her by her hair, he began brutally to shake her head.

The girl moaned softly, then her eyes opened. Jo-Jo’s dirty hand closed over her mouth, his fingers cruelly pinching her cheeks.

“Make a sound and I will kill you,” he whispered viciously. “Now, listen to me. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes round with terror, she looked up at him, squirming away from his smell of dirt.

He released his grip over her mouth.

“Where is this woman? Quick! Where is she?”

The girl gulped, tried to squirm further away and Jo-Jo, with a curse, slapped her face.

“Where is she?”

“Don’t touch me! She... she’s on the fifth floor: room 112,” the nurse told him, her voice shaking with terror.

“Room 112. Fifth floor. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say so before, you stupid fool?” Jo-Jo said. There was a rapid movement and a flash of steel. The nurse heaved up and then dropped back with a long, whistling sigh.

Jo-Jo stood up.

Sadu had seen the movement and had heard the sigh which sent a chill crawling up his spine. It was too dark to see clearly what had happened, but the sound of the sigh had struck terror into him.

“What have you done?” He grabbed hold of Jo-Jo. “What the hell have you done?”

Jo-Jo jerked away. He leaned forward and wiped the blade of his knife on the nurse’s cloak.

“Come on!” he said impatiently. “We now know where she is. Come on! We’re wasting time!”

With a shaking hand, Sadu took out his cigarette lighter and flicked on the flame. He leaned forward and stared down at the nurse’s dead face. He had only one brief horrifying glimpse before Jo-Jo blew the flame out.

“Come on,” Jo-Jo snarled. “They won’t find her until tomorrow and then it doesn’t matter.”

“You’ve killed her!” Sadu gasped.

“What else did you expect me to do with her? She would have put the finger on you and the flicks would have picked you up and then we would all have been down the drain. Come on... we’re wasting time!”

He walked cautiously out of the building, then headed for the hospital.

“Come in, Girland,” Dorey said as Girland appeared in the doorway of his office. “How have you been keeping?”

Girland moved into the big room and closed the door. With a mocking grin, he said, “Why should you care? You must be in one hell of a mess to call on me.” He crossed the room and dropped into one of the lounging chairs. “So they finally put your name up in gold. My! My! Washington must be short of talent these days.”

“You are an insolent sonofabitch,” Dorey said with a thin smile, “but I have to admit you have certain crude talents. These I am prepared to hire.” He leaned back in his executive chair and studied Girland. “I have been following your career if you can call it a career. You haven’t been doing so well recently, have you? A street photographer is getting pretty near bottom, isn’t it?”

Girland helped himself to a cigarette from the silver box on Dorey’s desk.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a matter of standards. Guys like you want money, power and ulcers. I take it as it comes. I would rather photograph a pretty woman than have an ulcer.”

Dorey shrugged.

“Well, it’s your business. Let’s find out first if you want to work for me again.”

“Work for you?” Girland laughed. “No, I don’t, but something was said about ten thousand francs. I am willing to work for anyone for that kind of money.”

“You seem to have only two things on your mind: women and money,” Dorey said. “I suppose you are built that way, but...”

“I live the way I like to live and it’s no business of yours. What’s the job?”

The two men regarded each other. Dorey felt a certain satisfaction as he met Girland’s steel hard eyes. After all, he told himself, this man had proved himself brilliantly astute, and also very tough. Dorey was sure he hadn’t made a mistake in picking him.

Briefly he explained about Erica Olsen.

“This woman could tell us a lot about Kung,” he concluded, “and we want to know about him. There has been a persistent rumour coming out of China that he has developed a new weapon. This may or may not be true, but we must know for certain. We also want to know what makes Kung tick. His mistress is the most likely person to know this.”

Girland sank lower in his chair.

“What makes you think she will talk?”

“That will be up to you. From the reports I have on you, you seem to have a way with women. Why else do you imagine I am giving you this job?”

Girland studied the glowing end of his cigarette, then grinned. “I can see the apes you employ couldn’t handle this one. You know, Dorey, you are smarter than I thought you were.”

“Try not to be insolent,” Dorey snapped. “Then you will do this job?”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t let’s rush it. Exactly what am I to do?”

“Her loss of memory appears to be genuine. Her doctor thinks it will return by slow degrees. You are to live with her and to report to me everything she comes out with about Kung.”

Girland sat up.

“Live with her? What do you mean?”

“You are to play the role of her husband,” Dorey said, resting his elbows on the desk. “At the moment she has no idea who she is, what her background is... she knows nothing. So you arrive as her husband. She has to accept you. You will have all the necessary proof if she needs convincing. I have your marriage certificate and her passport made out as Mrs. Erica Girland. You are a rich businessman on vacation in the South of France. This woman... your wife... disappeared while you were in Paris on business. You eventually find her in the American hospital. You naturally take her back to your villa in Eze. There you will help her recover her memory. Sooner or later she will come out with some information, and this is the information I want and I am paying for.”

Girland leaned back and shook his head in wonderment.

“You certainly get ideas!” he said and his admiration was genuine, “but let’s think about this. Suppose she gets her memory back suddenly and all in one piece? I’m going to look an awful dope pretending to be her husband, aren’t I?”

“That isn’t likely, and if it does happen, you are being paid to look an awful dope,” Dorey said smoothly.

Girland laughed.

“What’s this about a villa in Eze?”

“It belongs to me,” Dorey said, not without some smug satisfaction. “It is isolated, comfortable and safe. My servants will look after you both.”