James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

There was someone in the villa!

Was it Larry?

Panic surged through her until she got hold of herself. She turned swiftly back into her bedroom, ran across to one of the closets, opened the door, slid open a drawer and her hand dropped on a.22 automatic pistol: a tiny, but vicious weapon she had often carried in the streets of New York when a woman with her looks had to have protection after dark. The gun gave her a feeling of security, and with this feeling of security, she began also to feel angry.

She went to the open door of the bedroom.

“Who’s there?” she called, pitching her voice high.

Silence greeted her. She hesitated only for a moment, then lifting the gun, she aimed it at the door at the far end of the corridor and squeezed the trigger.

The bang of the gun sounded very loud in the stillness of the villa. A tiny hole appeared in the woodwork of the door and splinters flew.

At least, she thought, whoever it was in the villa now knew she had a gun. Bracing herself, she went down the corridor and threw the door open. There was nothing to see: only the lights, the thick royal blue carpet and the corridor leading to the front door. Again she paused to listen, but although she remained motionless for several nerve-racking minutes, she heard nothing to alarm her further.

Still holding the gun, she went back to the bedroom. She put on her coat, her hat and gloves. She was fighting off a growing panic as she paused to look at her pale, drawn face in the mirror. Then holding the gun in her right hand and the suitcase in her left hand, leaving all the lights on, she walked warily down the corridor, opened the front door, hesitated for a moment, then switched on the lights to the garage. She put down her suitcase and locked the front door. Turning, she walked swiftly to the security of the Mercedes.

In her luxury suite at the Eden hotel, Helga had just finished dressing for dinner when the telephone bell buzzed.

She looked at the telephone for a brief moment, frowning. She wasn’t expecting any calls. With Larry still on her mind, anything unexpected made her uneasy. As the buzzer sounded again, she crossed the room and picked up the receiver.

“Is that you, Helga?”

Her eyebrows lifted. She would know that booming voice anywhere. There was a time when Jack Archer went in for amateur theatricals. He had often said that only two men in the world had real actor’s voices: Sir Laurence Olivier and himself.

“Why, Jack… this is a surprise. I’ve only been here an hour.”

“How are you? Did you have a good run from Bonn?”

“Not bad… a lot of snow. Where are you, Jack?”

“I’ve just blown in. I’m in the bar.”

“You mean you’re in the hotel?”

“That’s it. I flew in from Lausanne yesterday. You said you would be arriving today… remember?”

She now did remember she had written to him from Paradise City giving the date of her arrival, but she had forgotten. She stiffened, thinking what an escape she had had. Suppose he had come to the villa in search of her and had walked in when she and Larry were there!

“I was planning to drive over to Lausanne tomorrow and see you,” she said, forcing her voice to sound casual.

“I have other business here, Helga, so I thought I’d save you the trip. Are you alone?”

“Of course.”

“Well, how about dinner together?”

“Yes… lovely.” She looked at her watch, noticing her hand was a little unsteady. The time was 20.35. “I’ll come right down.”

“In the bar.”

She hung up and stood motionless for some moments. Every six months she went to Lausanne and she and Archer checked through Rolfe’s investments. Their intimacy had died abruptly on the day Helga had married. Neither of them ever referred to it. They had now an easy friendship and a good business relationship. Archer had a flair for investment Sometimes he was a little reckless, and it was then that Helga put the brakes on, but this seldom happened, and when she refused one of his more reckless suggestions, he would grin at her, shrug and say, “Well, eventually it’ll be your money. If you don’t want to speculate that’s okay with me.”

She found him sitting at a corner table, away from the sprinkling of people in the bar. He stood up and waved to her as she came in.

She thought a little sadly that age never helps anyone. Five year ago, Archer had been one of the handsomest men she had seen off the movies. Now his straw-coloured hair was thinking and receding. He had put on too much weight. Standing over six feet, powerfully and heavily built, he still made an impressive figure, but she could no longer call him handsome. He must be five years older than herself, she thought as she smiled at him, taking his hand.

He had already ordered her a double vodka martini, knowing her drink, and he began asking her questions about her trip as he led her to the table.

She felt relaxed in his company. He had a soothing manner and a lot of charm: one of his major assets when dealing with the very rich. She skirted around her journey, not mentioning she had stayed at the Adlon hotel in Basle. She told him about the new car.

“And what news of Herman?”

She lifted her shoulders.

“The same… always busy.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, his bright blue eyes a little probing.

“No regrets, Helga?”

“Don’t let’s go into that.” She finished her drink. She was not going to remember that it had been Archer who had arranged the marriage. She had put enough business his way to reward him. She was certainly not lifting the curtain on those exciting moments in his office when he used to lock the door and they had had those “quickies’ on the settee. “Let’s eat… I’m starving.”

The dinner of finely cut smoked beef with pickled cucumbers followed by a pheasant was impeccable.

While waiting for the dessert trolley, she said, “I didn’t know you had other clients in Lugano, Jack.”

“A couple of old fossils.” He grinned. “I have to see them about every eighteen months. I thought it would be a good idea - save you the trip too - if I came over and did our business and theirs at the same time. Feel like working after dinner?”

She nodded. She had nothing else to do but to worry and brood so she welcomed having him for the rest of the evening.

“I have all the papers in my suite,” he went on. “Let’s go up after coffee… okay?”

She hesitated. Was it wise to go to his room? Would eyebrows be raised? He saw her hesitation and immediately read her thoughts.

They have a small boardroom here. Let’s use that,” he said. The table will make it easier to spread the papers on.”

She smiled at him, nodding. That was another thing she liked about Archer.

He was highly perceptive, tactful and always had a solution.

After the dessert, he said, “Meet me in the lobby in five minutes. We can have our coffee in the boardroom.”

Half an hour later, the table strewn with papers, the coffee pot empty, Archer paused to light a cigar.

That about wraps it up, Helga,” he said. “Not a very good six months, but these Euro-dollar bonds are sliding. Nothing to worry about. They’ll come back. At least, they pay a hefty interest. The equities are down… but the Dow Jones has been shot to hell. Still, it could be worse. Would you like me to explain about the losses to Herman or will you do it?”

“I’ll do it. He can’t expect to win all the time. I’d like to look at the prices to compare them with last month’s figures. How much are we down, Jack?”

He regarded the glowing end of his cigar and lifted his heavy shoulders.

“A damn sight less than most investors.”