Джеймс Чейз - So What Happens To Me?

I looked ahead but could see nothing but tree tops and jungle.

‘It’s well hidden.’

‘Yes: very well hidden.’ His voice was smug.

Then I saw it: an engineering feat de luxe: A solid ribbon of tarmac that stretched for at least two miles, bordered by the jungle on either side, painted a dullish green and unless you were hunting for it, you would never spot it.

‘Some job!’ I said, leaning forward as the chopper flew the length of it, circled and came back again.

‘We think it is satisfactory,’ Aulestria said. ‘It is good that you approve.’

‘Tell him to fly back a mile, then come in. I want to see the approach.’

Aulestria spoke to the pilot.

Now I was ready and as we came in again, I judged how Bernie would come in I decided it presented no problem to a pilot of Bernie’s experience.

‘Fine. Now let’s look at the control tower.’

We landed by the side of the tower and I put on my plastic coat. It was still pouring with rain.

Aulestria led me from the chopper, up steps and into the tower. I spent over an hour checking the instruments, the radar and all the gimmicks needed to bring in a kite. I couldn’t fault anything.

What bothered me was the personnel in charge of the control tower. They all looked like bandits right out of a Western movie: real thugs who watched me with snake’s eyes and who wore .45 revolvers on their hips.

‘Do you want to walk the runway, Mr. Crane or did Mr. O’Cassidy convince you that he has built something to last?’ Aulestria asked.

‘I won’t walk it.’

‘Then I may take you back to your hotel?’

‘That’s it.’

He led the way into a small air-conditioned office.

‘Shall we talk?’ He sat down behind the desk and waved me to a chair. ‘You are satisfied?’

‘Yes. We can bring the kite in.’

‘Good.’ He stared at me, his eyes hidden behind the goggles. ‘Now, Mr. Crane, let us be practicable. This plane is highly sophisticated. We have three pilots. Naturally, they will have to be trained to handle the plane. I take it that your pilots will train them?’

‘That’s for them to decide.’

‘It would be no use for us to accept the plane unless our people could fly it. I was under the impression our contact had arranged for this?’

‘He said nothing to us about it.’

‘Would you check, then, Mr. Crane? My men must be trained by your people or the deal’s off.’

‘I’ll check. How good are your pilots?’

‘Excellent. One of them has been flying a 747.’

‘Then I see no problem.’

‘Good.’ He got to his feet. ‘There’s a flight back to Paradise City in three hours. The sooner we get this arranged the better. When will the plane be delivered?’

‘In two months: could be less.’

‘Send me a cable: just the date and time of expected arrival. That’s all that will be necessary.’

‘I’ll do that.’

As he moved to the door, he paused.

‘Mr. Crane, you haven’t asked any questions as to why we need this aircraft and I like that. I am aware that O’Cassidy has talked to you and perhaps he has given you his views. Dismiss anything he has told you from your mind. There should be no talk: is that understood?’

Keeping my face wooden, I said. ‘That’s okay with me.’

‘I hope it is Mr. Crane,’ then he led me through the rain to the helicopter.

Because of what is known as a technical hitch, my flight back to Paradise City was delayed for two hours. I didn’t reach the City until 20.25. I collected the Alfa I had left in the airport garage, then drove down to the waterfront. I decided not to return to my cabin this night. I didn’t want to run into Pam while Bernie was away. I parked the Alfa and booked in at a modest hotel.

After a quick shower. I wandered out to find a meal. I picked on a small, but smart looking seafood restaurant, ordered curried prawns, then read a newspaper while I waited. I had just finished the prawns and was waiting for coffee when Mrs. Victoria Essex, accompanied by Wes Jackson, came in.

She saw me at once and smiled. Jackson also went through the grimace he called a smile. She started towards me so I stood up.

She looked marvellous in a simple white dress that must have cost the earth and there was that look in the big violet eyes that immediately turned me on.

‘Why, Mr. Crane, I thought I had lost you.’ she said. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Around and about,’ I said. ‘Glad to see you’re no worse for your fall.’

‘I’m fine now.’ She was staring at me, then she turned around and looked at Jackson as if seeing him for the first time. She flicked her fingers at him. ‘All right, Jackson, don’t wait.’

‘Yes, Mrs. Essex,’ and he took his bulk out of the restaurant.

‘May I join you?’ she asked.

I pulled out a chair and she sat down. I went back to my chair.

The waiter came and she ordered coffee.

‘I wanted you to ride with me this morning. They told me you had left.’ Her big violet eyes moved over me. ‘Had you?’

‘That’s right. I’ve been in Mexico for the past two days. An airline offered me a job. I thought I’d take a look at it.’

‘Mexico? You wouldn’t want to live in that hole, would you?’

‘I guess not.’

‘Then why did you go?’

‘A free trip: I was getting bored here.’

Her coffee arrived.

‘God! Yes! I can understand that! I get bored too.’ She stirred her coffee. ‘My husband’s jealous. When he goes on a trip. I either have to stay home or if I want to go out I have to have Jackson with me. He’s supposed to be my chaperon and spy.’

‘Supposed to be?’

She smiled, sipped her coffee, then said, ‘He’s more scared of me than my husband.’

I finished my coffee.

‘Have you anything to do tonight?’ she asked.

‘Not a thing.’

‘Have you a car?’

‘Just across the road.’

‘I’ll take you to a place. We can have fun.’

‘It’s only a two-seater. There would be no room for Jackson.’

She laughed.

‘Don’t worry about him. Let’s go.’

‘Don’t you want to eat?’

‘I only eat when I’m bored.’ She looked directly at me and there was that thing again in her eyes. ‘I’m not bored now.’

‘Just a moment. I understand Mr. Essex is due back tonight.’

‘Are you scared of him?’

‘I’m not scared of anyone, but I thought I’d mention it.’

‘I had a telex this afternoon. He’s staying over at L.A and won’t be back until tomorrow.’

I got to my feet, paid the check and smiled at her.

‘So what are we waiting for?’

We went out into the moonlit night. There was a Mercedes parked under a street light with Wes Jackson at the wheel. She went over to him spoke to him and he nodded. He drove away.

Together, we walked to the Alfa and she slid under the wheel.

‘I’ll take you,’ she said.

I got in beside her and she drove away from the waterfront: expert, fast driving, perfect control and I sat back and enjoyed being driven.

We got onto the hill road and we drove fast for three or four miles, then she turned up a dirt road and finally pulled up outside a knotty pine cabin.

‘This is my retreat,’ she said, sliding out of the car, ‘where I exercise my hobbies.’

As she was unlocking the door. I remembered what Bernie had said about Harry Erskine: Mrs. Essex dangled herself and he fell for it and then she cut him down to size That’s her speciality: turning it on, making a guy think he’s going to get into her bed, then telling him he isn’t.

The set-up looked good, but she could just be dangling herself I decided to play it cool. She would have to make all the advances.