James Chase - No Business Of Mine

wear over-shoes and red flannel. The only way to convince him is for

you to meet him. If you kid him along he’ll take us. It’s just his way of

making things difficult. I’ve fixed for us to have a drink with him right

away.”

“But there isn’t time,” she said, worried. “And it’s dangerous; the

police may see us. I don’t like this, Steve. Why didn’t you bring him

here?”

“I couldn’t,” I said. “He had to do things. There’s nothing to worry

about. We’re meeting him at a pub off Knightsbridge. I have a car

outside. We’l talk over things with him; then he’ll go on back to the

airport, we’ll come back here, pick up your luggage and fellow on. The

plane doesn’t leave until ten- thirty. There’s plenty of time.”

I could see she didn’t like the idea, but there was nothing she

could do about it.

“All right, Steve,” she said. “You know best. I’ll put on a hat and

I’m ready.”

I waited for her, wandered around the room, thought of Madge

Kennitt, felt spooked.

Netta came out of the bedroom after a moment or so. Her hat

looked like a saucepan lid, but it suited her.

“He’ll fal for you all right,” I said, regarding her. “You look swell.” I

slipped my arm through hers. “Come on. On your toes. We don’t want

Mrs. C. to jump us on our way out.”

We sneaked down the stairs and into the Buick I had rented for

the evening.

As we drove along the Cromwell Road, Netta said, “What’s been

happening, Steve? Did you give Ju the money?”

I was expecting that one, and had my lie ready.

“Yeah,” I said. “he got it, the rat, and I only hope he won’t double-

cross us before we get out of the country.” I gave her a quick look,

saw she had turned pale, was tight-lipped.

“When did you give it to him?” she asked, a catch in her voice.

“Three-thirty this afternoon,” I told her. “Five hundred pounds.

It’s a lot of money, Netta.”

She didn’t say anything, sat staring straight ahead, a hard look on

her face.

As we pulled up outside a small pub in a back street off

Knightsbridge, she said, “And Jack Bradley? Have you heard anything

from him?”

“No,” I said. “There was nothing I could do about him. Corridan

was out of town. I couldn’t get the rings without asking him first.

Bradley’s ultimatum expired at four o’clock. For al I know the cops

are looking for me right now. If they are, they’re too late. I pulled out

of the Savoy this afternoon. All my stuff is in the back of the car. I’m

ready to go.”

We got out of the Buick.

Netta looked up and down the street. “You’re sure it’s safe,

Steve?” she asked, hanging back. “It seems madness to me to come

here where we can he seen.”

“Take it easy,” I said. “It’s safe enough. This pub’s as dead as a

dodo. They’d never think of looking for us here.” I hurried her across

the pavement into the pub.

Harry Bix in his leather flying-blouse on which was painted a

diving albatross, his squadron insignia, was propping up the counter, a

Scotch and soda in his hand.

There were only two other men in the bar. They sat in a far

corner, and didn’t even look up as we entered.

Bix, fleshy, powerful, good-natured, straightened when he saw us.

He took one look at Netta, pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

“Hel-lo!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “You certainly

picked yourself a pippin. Pin-up girl ! I’ll say!”

“Netta, this is Harry Bix,” I said, pushing her forward. “Shake

hands with Army Air Corps No. I pilot. And if he doesn’t always act as

if he was used to wearing shoes, forgive him. He’s just out of the

jungle.”

Netta slipped her hand into Bix’s large paw, gave him a dazzling

smile which rocked him back on his heels.

“Lady, what makes you go around with a heel like him?” he asked

earnestly. “Didn’t you know he has two wives, and eighteen children,

and he’s clone a ten-year stretch for criminal assault?”

Netta laughed, nodded. “That’s why I like him,” she said. “I’m that

sort of a girl.”

“For God’s sake!” he said, startled. “Do you really like him or is it

his dough you’re after?”

“A little of each,” she said, after pretending to consider his

question.

“Well, I guess that calls for a drink. How’s about starting a famine

in whisky or would you prefer something more fancy?”

“Whisky’s al right with me,” she said.

Bix waved to the barmaid, ordered two double whiskies. He

turned back to Netta.

“Where’ve you been hiding yourself all this time? I thought I knew

all the juicy dames in London.”

“And I thought I’d met all the lovely Americans until now,” she

replied.

Bix blew out his cheeks, punched me in the ribs.

“Brother, you’re through. Go outside and oblige me by breaking a

leg.”

“She’s just kidding,” I said. “That girl’s got an ice-cream cone

where her heart’s supposed to be. Why, ten minutes ago, she told me

all Army Air Corps personnel were jerks, didn’t you Netta? “

“But I hadn’t met Harry then,” Netta protested. “I take it all back.”

Bix leaned close. “We’re the salt of the earth, sugar,” he said.

“They say so in the newspapers, and newspapers don’t kid their

readers.”

“Not much,” I said.

When the barmaid had served the whiskies and had gone to the

far end of the counter, Bix said, “So you want to make a trip with me,

do you?”

Netta regarded him, suddenly serious. She nodded. “Will you trust

me to get you there safely?” he asked.

“I’d trust you in an aircraft, but nowhere else,” she returned.

Bix roared with laughter. “Say, this baby is quite a kidder, Steve.

That’s a pretty hot line to hand to a guy like me. Lady, I was kidding

just now. Dames don’t mean a thing to me. You ask Steve; he’ll tell

you.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Dames don’t mean a thing to Min, but put

him alone with one dame and see what happens.”

“Why, you rat . . .” Bix began, indignant.

“And suppose he isn’t to be trusted?” Netta asked. “I wouldn’t

scream for help.”

“You wouldn’t?” Bix asked, his eyes popping. “Is that on the

level?” He looked at me. “Beat it, three’s-a-crowd, you’re in the way.”

“Suppose we cut out this cross-talk and get down to business?” I

urged. “Now you’ve seen her, will you play?”

Bix sipped his whisky, eyed Netta, eyed me.

“Yeah, I guess I can’t refuse a honey like her,” he said. “But it’s a

hell of a risk.”

“Skip it,” I said. “You know it’s dead easy. Don’t listen to him,

Netta, he’s trying to be important.”

“Seriously, is it risky?” Netta asked; her eyes searching Bix’s face.

For a moment Bix wrestled with the temptation to exaggerate,

decided against it. “Well, no,” he admitted, scowling at me. “Once you

sell the pilot the idea-and you’ve already done that- it’s easy enough.

We’l meet at the gates of the airport, go in together, have a drink at

the mess. I’ll then offer to show you over my kite and we’ll go down to

the dispersal point. No one will be around if we get down there

before twenty-two-fifteen hours. You two will get into the kite, and I’ll

show you where to hide. We take off at twenty-two-thirty hours.