James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

Helga stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. She remembered Larry’s exuberant cry: “Boy! Am I lucky! Boy! Boy! Boy!” She remembered she had wondered about that: so this was the explanation.

“Of course it was still a gamble,” Archer went on. “You could have raped him in the sitting-room, but I know your style. When there is a bed handy, you use a bed. Anyway, I have a photograph and so we are partners.”

“You certainly value your skin, don’t you?” she said.

“I told you: I’m not the sinking type. Well, Helga, you now know the situation. Are you running to Herman?”

“I get nothing in return?”

“If you mean you don’t get the negatives… you don’t. But you can forget them. They’ll be completely safe. After all, Helga, if you fall, I fall too: we’re partners for as long as Herman lives.”

“Where are the negatives?”

He smiled.

“Winging their way safely to my bank in an envelope marked to be opened only in the event of my death. You are a dangerous woman, Helga. I’m taking no chances. I don’t say you would try to murder me, but I don’t want you to have the slightest temptation to do so. I must admit you nearly gave me a heart attack when you let off that gun.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So it was you I heard?”

“That’s right. While you were hunting for Larry I was getting the camera. You very nearly caught me at it. Incidentally, you had better get an electrician to re-fix the sun ray lamp if you intend to use it.”

“So the negatives will be lodged in your bank,” Helga said. “The envelope is to be opened in the event of your death. If you die what do you imagine the manager of the bank will do when he sees the contents?” She was probing for information and she regarded him with a contemptuous smile. “He will destroy the photographs.”

“No, he won’t. When he opens the envelope he will find inside another sealed envelope with instructions to send this envelope to Herman. I don’t trust you, Helga. I repeat you are a dangerous woman.”

“You’re not being fair to me, are you? You live too well. You have become fat and soft. You could drop dead: men of your age are continually dropping dead through overindulgence. You fly a lot in these little planes. They are not oversafe. You could he killed in a crash. You could have a motoring accident. You could cease to live any time from tonight. You are striking a hard bargain.”

“Put like that I suppose I am, but I would rather be safe than murdered, Helga. You must hope that I keep alive.” He looked at his watch. “I have a busy day tomorrow. It’s my bedtime. Will you please initial the stock list?”

“When are you leaving?”

“Sometime tomorrow afternoon… why the interest?”

“I want to think about all this,” she said and got to her feet “I’ll give you my decision at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

He sat upright and his heavy face became set. For the first time since she had known him she saw him without his smooth charm.

“Decision?” There was a harsh note in his voice she had never heard before. “What do you mean? You have no choice! I have you where I want you! Initial those pages at once!”

Her lips moved into a stiff smile.

“I agree, Jack… you have me where you want me, but I too have you where I want you. I am facing the loss of sixty million dollars: you are facing at least ten years in a Swiss prison. From what I hear the Establissement de l’Orbe isn’t a convalescent home.”

His eyes turned vicious.

“You are in no position to threaten me! I know what money means to you! Now, cut this out! Initial those pages!”

She shook her head.

“I have a decision to make. I have to convince myself that all that money is worth being landed with a partner who is a thief, a forger and a blackmailer. I’m not convinced. If I give up sixty million dollars, I will still have my freedom, but you won’t. You’ll be in jail… and God! how you will hate that.” She picked up the stock list. “I’ll let you know my decision at three o’clock tomorrow. Give me a telephone call at the villa,” and she went out of the room.

Back in her bedroom, Helga walked over to the window and drew back the drapes. She stood for several minutes looking at the lights of Cassarate, the red sign that spelt out B-R-E, the outline of the mountain and the headlights of the cars coming down from Castagnoia. Snow was beginning to fall: something unusual in Lugano. The lake, glittering in the moonlight, looked like a black mirror.

She was surprised at her calmness and how evenly her heart was beating. She had absorbed the shock. She had been manoeuvred into a trap, and now, she had to consider what she was to do.

Turning away from the window, she undressed and put on pale blue pyjamas. With a pack of cigarettes and her lighter in her hand, she got into bed. She settled herself, turned on the reading light and the room lights off. She lit a cigarette, then relaxed. It was in bed with a cigarette that she always did her best thinking.

First, she asked herself how important was it to her to remain the wife of one of the richest men in the world? To make a comparison, she thought back and considered how she had lived while acting as her father’s personal assistant and then later, as Archer’s. She had earned reasonable money; she had had a lot of fun, freedom and sex. Against this, she had lived in a tiny, rather dreary apartment She had always had snatched meals and no car of her own. She liked clothes but could never afford the clothes she wanted. When on vacation she had to stay at the less grand hotels and she remembered envying those who could afford the best hotels. She had to queue for a cinema or a theatre seat, not being able to afford the best seats. She ate at a good restaurant only when dated. She never had any jewellery until she married and she liked top class jewellery: especially diamonds. She didn’t know until she married the joys of skiing, of tearing through the water in her own high speed motorboat nor owning a Mercedes 300SEL. She thought of her various homes and the servants who gave her constant attention. She thought of the flattering V.I.P. treatment she received at the airports, hotels and luxury restaurants of the world as soon as the name of Rolfe was mentioned.

She finally came to the conclusion that she must cling to her position even if it meant accepting Archer as a partner.

But did she have to accept him?

I would rather be safe than murdered , he had said.

She shook her head.

No! This was stupid and untidy thinking. She knew she could never take a life: even the life of a creature like Archer.

So what was the solution… if any?

She thought about this for some time. For her, she finally decided, the ideal solution would be if her husband dropped dead. Men of his age - he must be nearly seventy - were always dropping dead. What a marvellous and fantastic solution to her problem it would be if the telephone bell rang at this moment and Hinkle broke the news to her that Herman had suffered a heart attack. By dying, Herman would free her from this blackmail threat. She would automatically inherit the estate: no doubt, he would leave his daughter something, but if he didn’t, she could afford to be generous with all that money. But that wasn’t the real magic of Herman’s death. The magic of his death would mean she would have Archer in her power as he now had her in his power. She imagined letting him wait until three o’clock the following day, then she would ask him to come to the villa. “Something I want to discuss with you, Jack,” she would say. “No, not over an open line. Besides, you want the stock sheets, don’t you?” He would come, cautiously perhaps, but triumphant, knowing she had surrendered. She would play with him as a cat plays with a mouse until it would dawn on him he was not going to get the stock list. Then she would listen to his threats and bluster and she would laugh at him.