James Chase - An Ace up my Sleeve

“Talk to him first, ma’am. Maybe you can persuade him to play ball. I’ll be listening. If you can’t, then I’ll take over.”

She looked at her watch. He would be here any minute now. At this hour, the traffic would be heavy, but once past Cassarate, unless he got stuck behind the local bus, he could speed.

Then she saw the Fiat 125 sweep into sight, driving much too fast. She caught a glimpse of Archer as she stepped away from the window.

“He’s here, Larry.” Her voice was unsteady.

“Okay, ma’am. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Larry said from the kitchen. “I’m right with you.”

She heard a car door slam, then the front door bell rang violently.

“Be careful with him, Larry,” she said.

“That’s okay, ma’am. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Again the front door bell rang.

Bracing herself, she crossed the hall and opened the door. Archer bounded in. His heavy face was pale and his eyes had an unnatural glitter.

“Is he dead?” he demanded.

Helga looked stonily at him, turned and walked to the sitting-room. She heard Archer curse under his breath. In the doorway, she paused.

“Take your coat off, Jack… it’s hot in here. I wouldn’t want you to catch a 111

cold.”

As he tore off his coat and flung it on the hall table, he said again, “Helga! Is he dead?”

She moved into the room until she reached the centre, then turned and faced him as he came in.

“Helga! For Christ’s sake! Is he dead?”

“Is who dead?”

His big hands closed into fists and he glared at her.

“You said there was an emergency… that Hinkle telephoned!”

“Oh, yes. Hinkle did telephone. Herman won’t be coming here until next week. He’s got some conference on or some bore.”

A wary, suspicious look came to Archer’s face.

“Just what is this? You led me to believe Herman was ill or dead.”

“Did I? Perhaps it was because I decided there would be no other way of getting you up here, Jack.”

His face turned mauve as blood rushed to his head.

“Listen, you bitch, don’t start any tricks!” he snarled. “Those photos are now safe in the bank! With a snap of my fingers I can ruin you and you know it! Now give me the stock list! I’ve about had all I’m taking from you! Give me the stock list!”

She moved to a chair and sat down.

“The situation has changed, Jack. You’re not getting the list, but you are writing a letter to your bank, instructing them to send the photos to me.”

He glared at her, his mouth working.

“I’ve a good mind to slap your bloody face!” he said viciously. “Have you gone out of your mind? Or are you telling me you don’t give a damn about losing sixty million dollars?”

“The situation has changed,” she repeated quietly, feeling her anger rising. You held three aces… but now I hold four.”

He suddenly appeared to take hold of himself and his face was no longer mauve. He stared at her, his small, hard eyes probing.

That’s interesting. You were always a good bluffer, Helga, but you don’t bluff me. If I have any more of your nonsense, I will instruct my bank to send that envelope immediately to Herman! I’m calling your bluff.”

“If you do that, you go to jail.”

“Listen, you stupid bitch, can’t you see I have no alternative? I’m willing to bet against my chance of going to jail against your chances of inheriting sixty million dollars,” Archer said. “I’ll give you two minutes to give me that stock list or I leave here and when I get back to Lausanne I give you my word the photos go to Herman!”

“Your word?” She smiled bitterly. “What’s that worth?”

“You wait and see!”

He shot his cuff and regarded his watch.

“Two minutes!”

“Jack… will you please write to the bank and ask them to send me the photos? I’m asking this for your sake as well as mine,” Helga said.

“One minute!”

She lifted her hands and in despair, dropped them in her lap.

He pulled his cuff over his watch.

“Okay, Helga. That’s it. So we’re no longer partners. The photos will be 113

delivered to Herman as he leaves Geneva airport. I’ll be able to put up with life in a prison cell, thinking of you booted out of your comfortable nest.”

He turned and marched to the door, jerked it open and found himself confronted by Larry.

He reared back as if he had touched a live cable, stumbled and had to make an effort to regain his balance.

Larry moved into the room, his jaw moving rhythmically, his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Hi, Fatso,” he said in his quiet drawl. “Remember me?”

“What are you doing here?” Archer snarled. He whirled around, glaring at Helga. “Is this your doing?”

“You shouldn’t have done this to me,” Helga said quietly. “You should have known you couldn’t get away with blackmailing me. Now, write to the bank and tell them to send the photos.” She pointed to the desk. “Do it at once!”

“I’ll see you damned first!” Archer snarled. “You don’t think this pimp of yours frightens me?”

Larry reached out, grabbed Archer’s arm and spun’ him around. His open right hand, moving so fast it looked to Helga like a blur of white, slapped Archer’s face. The sound of his palm against Archer’s fat jowl was like a pistol shot. She saw something fly out of Archer’s mouth as he staggered back. She looked down. Archer’s top denture lay at her feet: six gleaming white teeth set on a gold plate. She shut her eyes and turned away.

She heard Archer mumble something, then Larry, his voice sounding deadly, said, “Stay right where you are or I’ll tread on them!”

She braced herself and turned.

A livid red mark showed on Archer’s face. He looked changed without his top teeth and his lips had fallen in. To her, he looked old, stupid and frightened.

Larry had moved to where the denture had fallen. There was a hard grin on his face as he watched Archer.

“There’s plenty of the same unless you do what you’re told.”

Archer made a whinnying sound, then turning, he charged out of the room into the hall. Larry went after him, moving silently and swiftly.

The slapping sound came again. Helga stood motionless, fighting down the bile rising in her mouth. She heard Archer suddenly cry out. It was a horrible sound and she put her hands over her ears, but her hands couldn’t keep out the savage sound going on in the hall: the tramping of feet, the quick in-take of breath, the inhuman grunting of a man trying to exert all his strength, then the sound of a heavy fall that shook the villa.

She rushed to the open door.

Archer was lying on his back and Larry was standing over him. As she paused, Larry kicked the prostrated man in his shifting his heavy body by the force of his kick and making Archer cry out.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Helga cried. “Larry! Stop it!”

He frowned, looked blankly at her, and for a moment he didn’t seem to recognize her, then his face relaxed and he grinned, stepping back.

“He’s okay, ma’am… just trying to be younger than he

“Leave him alone!”

“Sure, ma’am.” Larry moved further away, then looking down at Archer, he said, “Come on, Fatso, get up. You’re not hurt… yet. Come on.”

Very slowly, Archer crawled to his feet. He staggered to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily and sagging at the knees. The right side of his face now showed a black bruise, tinged with red and a trickle of blood ran from the side of his mouth.

Helga looked away. The sight of his face sickened her.

“That’s the boy,” Larry said. “Now go in there and collect your teeth, then write that letter.”