Джеймс Чейз - So What Happens To Me?

‘No one gets away with anything when dealing with Mr. Essex.’ He stretched out his long, thick legs. ‘Ah! Do look. Crane. This will interest you.’

One of the elevator doors slid open. Pam, followed by Aulestria came out into the lobby. Behind them were two beefy looking men with cop written all over them.

Aulestria’s face was ashen. Pam looked as if she were about to collapse. The two men herded them across the lobby and down to a waiting car.

Another man, again with cop written all over him. came from another elevator, carrying the two suitcases I had seen in Aulestria’s room. He set them down and came over to Jackson. He dropped the heavy envelope containing the bonds into Jackson’s lap.

‘No problem,’ he said and picking up the suitcases, he walked to the exit, got in the waiting car which drove rapidly away.

‘Now you see, how our organisation works,’ Jackson said smugly. ‘Those three men are ex-police officers. They will escort those two petty blackmailers onto a plane to Merida: it is a chartered flight and they will have the plane entirely to themselves. Arriving at Merida they will be met by an extremely hostile reception. I need not mention that Mr. Orzoco has been alerted. Aulestria stupidly took funds belonging to Mr. Orzoco’s party. They will know how to deal with him and with the woman. Aulestria is under the impression that the men escorting him belong to the City police. Every word you and he exchanged was taped and they have played the tape back to him. He imagines he is going to be prosecuted for blackmail. It won’t be until he is put on board the plane that he will realise what is happening: then it will be too late.’ He gave me his shark’s smile. ‘Little, stupid people Crane, like yourself. There is an old saying: the clay pot should never go down stream with the gold pot. The clay pot invariably gets broken.’ I could see he was enjoying himself. ‘You perhaps didn’t realise that I had arranged for a bug to be planted on you when you first called on Aulestria. You might give it to me. It’s in your right coat pocket.’

Dazed, I groped in my pocket and came up with a black object no bigger than an Aspro pill. Then I remembered the man who had lurched against me.

As I gave Jackson the bug, I said, ‘So what happens to me?’

‘Nothing.’ He heaved himself to his feet and regarded me contemptuously. ‘Nothing ever will,’ and he walked away, leaving me staring after him.

Perhaps he will be wrong. Ever is a long time.

I sat there thinking of my old man, the small time town and the garage that could still be for sale.

I suddenly felt a surge of confidence.

After all Henry Ford began small, didn’t he?