James Chase - Not My Thing

Lepski snorted. When the hell was the ransom going to be paid? Jamison had said he would alert Terrell once he had his wife back, then, possibly, it would be too late to catch the kidnappers.

Bored with staring bleakly at the Casino entrance, watching the rich get out of their cars and enter, eager to lose their money, Lepski decided to drive down to the harbour where there just might be some action.

He started his car and drove slowly through the dense traffic down to where the rich moored their luxury yachts.

He parked in the shadows, sat back, lit a cigarette and surveyed the scene. At this time, there was a lot of activity: tourists gaping at the yachts and motor cruisers, parties going on deck with men in tuxedos and women flashing their diamonds, eating, drinking and talking at the top of their voices.

He switched on his two-way radio.

‘Charlie? Tom. I’m down by the harbour. Any action?’

‘Not your kind, Tom,’ Tanner replied. ‘We’ve just had an alert that a car belonging to Mr van Roberts was stolen twenty minutes ago.’

‘Cars!’ Lepski moaned. ‘Some goddamn kid! Okay, let’s have it. I’ll watch for it.’

‘Dark red Caddy. No. PC5544.’

‘Okay.’ Lepski scribbled the number down on a pad. ‘I’ll watch out.’

‘All patrols have been alerted. Mr van Roberts is VIP and he’s hopping mad.’

‘Yeah, who isn’t VIP except you and me?’ Lepski snorted and switched off.

He went back to staring at the crowds on the waterfront.

For the past twenty minutes, Kling had been sitting in his car in the parking lot near Lucy Loveheart’s residence, smoking and waiting. His eyes constantly went to his watch.

While he waited, he thought of what he would do with five million dollars. He grinned to himself. For the first time in his dangerous life, he would be worth real money. He wondered how the kid was getting on. He would get a car and deliver it according to Kling’s instructions. Kling had no doubt about that. Not once had the kid taken a wrong step. It was odd that he seemed to have turned a bit soft about the woman, but that didn’t matter. The kid was young. When they reached Zurich and had collected the money, Kling would see if he could fix the kid up with some chick. That’s what the kid needed: to screw and be screwed. It would make all the difference to the kid’s outlook.

Kling again looked at his watch. Time to go! He slid out of his car. He paused to check that he had the key to the Whipping room, then he put his hand inside his other pocket and fingered the garotte. It would be quick, and no mess, he thought, as he set off along the sidewalk, keeping in the shadows.

Checking that no one was observing him, he walked quickly down the ramp to the underground garage that was lit by one overhead lamp.

Parked a few yards from the elevator was a glittering red Cadillac with the lid of the trunk half open.

Kling nodded to himself. Nice work, kid, he thought. Very nice work.

He pressed the down button of the elevator and when the cage arrived, he stepped in and thumbed the top floor button.

When the elevator came to a stop, Kling took out the garotte. He stepped into the passage and looked up and down the dimly lit corridor, listened, then moved over to the door of the Whipping room.

Silently he inserted the key and turned it gently, then eased open the door.

The sound of a Mozart concerto from the radio greeted him. He slid forward, leaving the door ajar, the garotte dangling in his fingers.

He saw her, sitting with her back to him, intent on the music, and his evil smile lit up.

Too easy! he thought, and moved like a phantom towards her. The garotte now a loop, ready to drop over her head.

Then steel-like fingers closed around the back of his neck. He felt a rush of blood to his head. He made an effort to claw away the fingers, then blackness descended, and he fell forward with a thump on the carpet.

With a scream, Shannon sprang to her feet and turned. She saw the Vietnamese youth staring down at a man who lay face down.

She began to back away, suppressing another scream.

‘Quick, ma’am!’ Ng gasped. ‘I am getting you out of here! Please come with me! We have only a few minutes before he recovers. Quick!’

Shannon, seeing the tragic expression on Ng’s face, immediately realizing he had come to rescue her, went to him.

Taking her by the wrist, he hurried her to the elevator. In the garage, he got her into the stolen Cadillac, slid under the steering-wheel and started the engine. He swept around and drove fast up the ramp onto the street.

‘Don’t say anything, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Listen, please. This is a stolen car. By now they will be looking for it. I haven’t much time.’

‘Oh, Kim!’ Shannon gasped. ‘I knew you would help me!’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ng said. ‘I had to help you.’ He swung the car onto a side street that led down to the water-front.

‘Was that man your master?’ Shannon asked.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ng caught his breath in a sob. ‘I have been disloyal. It’s something I can’t live with. I must tell you, ma’am. Don’t go home. Go to a true friend, but don’t go home.’

He found himself on the water-front. He had only a vague idea of the geography of the city and, seeing the crowded quay, he slowed the car to a crawl.

‘I don’t understand what you are saying, Kim.’

‘We must talk.’ ‘Ng saw a parking space and edged the big car between two other cars and cut the engine. He turned to look at her, his face showing suffering and tear marks. ‘Ma’am, please believe me. It was your husband who wanted to get rid of you. He hired my master to murder you. He paid five million dollars.’

‘Oh, no!’ Shannon gasped.

‘Please, believe me,’ Ng said and gripped her wrist. ‘You must keep away from him! He wants a child! Go to some friend who you can trust, but don’t go home. You understand?’

Shannon felt an icy chill run through her. Thinking of the last time she had talked to her husband, seeing his ruthless face, she realized this wasn’t fantasy.

Somewhere safe? Meg Clayton!

While they were talking, Lepski shifted his eyes to a newly parked car, then stiffened.

Red Caddy. No. PC 5544.

Goddamn it! he thought. Here’s the stolen car! He leaned forward and peered through his windshield. He saw there was a man and a woman, sitting side by side in the front seat.

Action at last!

He reached for his two-way radio.

‘Charlie! That Caddy is parked on quay eight. Man and woman in it. Block all exits to the quay. I’m investigating.’

‘Will do,’ Tanner said and switched off.

Lepski eased his gun in its holster, then, leaving his jacket hanging open, he slid out of his car and threaded his way through the tourists to the Cadillac. He arrived at the driver’s open window and immediately recognized Ng. His gun jumped into his hand.

‘Police,’ he growled in his cop voice. ‘Come on out, both of you, and come carefully.’

Ng looked at Shannon.

‘Ma’am, please remember what I said. Don’t go home,’ and, opening the car door, he got out.

‘You too!’ Lepski snapped.

Shannon got out of the car and, moving swiftly, came around to join Ng.

There came the sound of police sirens as patrol cars converged on the quay.

Moving between Ng and Lepski, Shannon said quietly, ‘I am Mrs Sherman Jamison. I have been kidnapped. This young man has rescued me.’

Lepski gaped at her.

‘You’re Mrs Jamison?’

‘Yes.’

He stared at her, and then recognized her. He had often seen photographs of her in the press.

Two police cars, their blue lamps flashing, came from either end of the quay and men spilled out.