James Chase - Like a Hole in the Head

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Ex-army musketry trainer, Jay Benson and his wife Lucy’s dream of running a shooting school turns sour as the school heads towards certain closure. They need money — quickly, and a lot of it. At the eleventh hour Augusto Savanto, head of a vast corporation in Venezuela, walks into their lives with a proposition they can scarcely refuse — he will pay them $50,000 to turn his son into an expert marksman, in nine days. Desperate for money they accept the challenge but find themselves in a deadly game of ruthless vendettas and vengeful murder. 

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I spent some minutes examining the map. The Willington house stood in a couple of acres of lawns and flower beds. At the back of it was dense forest land with paths cut through it. To the right of the house was a swimming pool. Away from the house was the guest bungalow. This too had its swimming pool and was also backed by trees. The forest extended from the bungalow down to the sea where the boat house was. The other boundaries were surrounded by high walls. If I had charge of four bodyguards, I would have two men patrolling the paths by the boat house which was obviously the most vulnerable entrance. I would have the other two men patrolling around the bungalow.

I sat staring at the map while I considered the idea that had come into my mind. It was a ninety-five to five bet, but even odds as low as this must be taken.

I called Raimundo.

“You’ve had a look at this place?”

“Sure. I told you.”

“How about the walls?”

He made an impatient movement.

“They are fifteen feet high with an alarm cable operated by an electronic system. You have only to touch the top of any part of the walls to set off the alarm.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure! I set the alarm off. The two resident guards and two patrol cops arrived in less than ten minutes.”

“How about the boat house?”

“You can’t take a boat in there. There’s an alarm wire outside the harbour that sets off a warning.”

“Could you swim in?”

He thought, frowning and uneasy, then he shrugged.

“I guess so, but there’ll be a guard there.”

“Can Timoteo swim?”

“Yes, he’s good, but you’re wasting time, soldier. Suppose you and Timoteo get into the estate, how about Lopez?”

I had forgotten Lopez.

“I’m looking for angles,” I hedged. “I’m taking a look at the estate. It’s just possible I might find a better way of getting at him than trying to hit him on skis.”

Raimundo became suspicious.

“You’re wasting time.”

“We have time to waste. I’m going.”

He hesitated.

“I’ll come with you. When are you going? Tonight?”

“I’m going right now.”

“Are you crazy? There are two guards there. We could walk into them and cook the deal.”

“You didn’t tell me guards were there already.”

“They’re always there. Willington has valuable stuff in the house, but when Diaz arrives, they leave. The girl has fixed it with the Security Agent. The negress told us. They come back when Diaz leaves, but they are there now.”

“Can you swim?”

He didn’t know it, but to me this was the sixty-four thousand-dollar question. If he was a good swimmer, I was in trouble. My hopes rose when I saw him hesitating.

“I can manage.”

“What’s that mean? Can you swim a quarter of a mile? I want to take off from here.” I pointed to the map. “That’s around a quarter of a mile to the harbour.”

“I wouldn’t want to swim that far.”

“Okay, so you don’t come with me.”

As I started towards the door, he caught hold of my arm. His face had turned vicious.

“No tricks, soldier! You make one mistake and your wife will get branded !”

I hit him a back-hand swipe that sent him reeling across the room. He thudded against the wall, bounced off and came at me. He was so mad he forgot to get on balance. As he rushed at me like a charging bull I hung one on his jaw. It was a block buster of a punch and he went out like a match flame in a gale.

I heard a sound behind me and I turned swiftly. Carlo stood gaping in the doorway of the french windows.

“Sweep him up and put him to bed,” I said. “I’m going out.” His brutish face showed bewilderment. I didn’t give him a chance to begin thinking. I shouldered him aside and went down the steps and started across the sand dunes towards the distant arm of the bay.

* * *

It was a longer swim than I had thought but it didn’t worry me. During my Army days I had swum five miles under pressure with Vietcong bullets splashing around me from time to time. I took it easy, and after a while, I came within sight of the Willington boat house. Slowly and cautiously, I swam towards it. There was a small harbour and I could see the motor boat. I swam just outside the entrance to the harbour, looking for any sign of life, but the place seemed deserted. Raimundo had said there was an alarm cable guarding the harbour. I didn’t think it likely it would be operating during the day, but I wasn’t taking a chance of alerting the two resident guards. I dived deeply and swam along one of the walls of the harbour entrance, then surfaced by the motor boat.

As I came up, shaking the water out of my eyes, a girl’s voice called, “Hi! Do you know you’re trespassing?”

I looked up. Nancy Willington was standing on the cabin roof, looking down at me. She had on the skimpiest bikini I have ever seen : a joke of a bikini that was only just enough to cover her nipples and her crotch. At close quarters she was the most sensational-looking woman I had seen. Woman? Perhaps not yet… not mentally a woman. She reminded me a little of Brigitte Bardot when she had first set the movie screen alight.

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” I said, treading water. “I’m sorry… excuse me. I guess I’ve come to the wrong place.”

She laughed, leaning forward to look down at me, her full breasts threatening to escape from the tiny halter.

“Do you usually swim to people’s places?”

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” I started to swim, not fast but with purpose towards the harbour exit.

“Hey ! Come back ! I want to talk to you!”

I had gambled on her curiosity. The ninety-five to five chance looked as if it could pay off.

I turned round and swam back to the boat. I caught hold of the mooring-rope.

“I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“Come aboard,” she said. “Do you want a drink?”

I swung myself on to the boat’s deck. I was wearing only a pair of white cotton trousers. They were sopping wet and they stuck to me. I could have been naked. I didn’t think this would faze her, and I had too much on my mind for it to faze me.

She came off the cabin roof and joined me. Her eyes ran over me, missing nothing and she gave me a gamin grin.

“Some man !” she said.

“You think so? Okay… some girl!”

She laughed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am looking for my wife.”

This was the idea that had come to me while I was talking to Raimundo. I had to find Lucy. This girl knew the district. She just might know of a villa or a bungalow that had been recently rented.

“Your wife?” Her green eyes widened. “Have you lost her?”

I couldn’t tell her the truth. If I did, she would think only of herself. She would be on the telephone in a moment to warn Diaz to keep away. So I had to lie to her.

“I’ve lost her,” I said, “but I’m not bothering you with this. I’m a stranger around here. I saw this place and wondered if she was here. Sorry…”

“You’re the craziest man I’ve ever met!” she exclaimed. “You mean you are swimming along the coast, looking for your wife? I don’t believe it !”

“I guess it’s crazy.” I made my voice harsh. “I haven’t a boat so what else can I do? I’ve an idea she is somewhere along here so I’m looking.”

“You lost her? You mean she’s left you?”

I gave her my hard Army look.

“Sorry I trespassed. I’ll get going.”

“Don’t go temperamental on me.” She cocked her head on one side and gave me a sexy look. “I’ve nothing to do and God ! am I bored ! I’ll help you. We can go in the boat.” She sat on the cabin roof. “Tell me about it.”

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