James Chase - You've Got It Coming

He braced himself. He knew instinctively that he was going to have trouble with her.

“Now look, Glorie, let it lie. I'm tired. I've had a hell of a night . . .”

“What is it, Harry?”

“The diamonds! What the hell did you think it was?”

She put her hands to her face, her eyes opening wide.

“But why haven't you given them to Borg? You wrote and told me that was the arrangement.”

“I haven't given them to him because I've stopped being a dope. Why should your pal collect two million bucks while I take all the risks and pick up only fifty grand? I know who will give me a million and a half for the diamonds, and I'm going to do a trade with him. To hell with Delaney! And to hell with Borg!”

“No!” Glorie exclaimed, her voice shrill. She started to her feet. “You mustn't, Harry! You must give the diamonds to Ben. You must! He paid you the money. He trusted you! You can't do this!”

“Yeah, he trusted me. He trusted me like a fox. He had two thugs following me wherever I went. He slicked Borg on to me. Trusted me? That's funny. That rat wouldn't trust his mother not to put poison in his food. He gave me the money because he knew there was no other way he could get his claws on the diamonds. Okay, he's been smart too long. Now it's my turn. I'm trading the diamonds and he's going to whistle for them.”

Glorie struggled to control herself. She was shaking and cold and terrified.

“Look, darling, you don't understand,” she said, trying to speak slowly and quietly. “I can see how you feel about this. I can understand the temptation, but you mustn't do it. No one has ever double-crossed Ben and got away with it. No one. They've tried. I know. I've lived with him for fourteen months, and during that time dozens of men have tried to pull a fast one on him. They've never succeeded, and, darling, you won't either. Oh, Harry, do try to believe me. I'm telling you this because I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you. I want you alive, Harry, not dead. Don't you understand?”

“Relax Glorie,” Harry said. “What you don't seem to understand is that he will be looking for Harry Green. Thanks to you Harry Green doesn't exist anymore. He is buried in the sandhills where no one will ever find him. This is the one time Delaney is going to be double-crossed, and there is nothing he can do about it He'll never find me. I don't exist. He can hunt for me as the police can hunt for me until he and they are blue in the face They'll never find me, thanks to you. They can hunt for a thousand years. Delaney can hunt for a thousand years. The guy they are looking for has ceased to exist. Don't you see that? Snap out of it, baby. We're sitting pretty. We have fifty grand in the bank waiting for us in New York. I've got three million tying there on the bed. What are you worrying about? This is fool proof. Can't you see that?”

Glorie put her tends to her face and began to cry.

IV

When the telephone bell rang, Ben Delaney got quickly to his feet, leaving Fay pouting and surprised on the settee, crossed the room and picked up the receiver.

He had listened to the broadcast about the robbery. He had been shaken out of his usual calm by the news of the slaughter.

If the diamonds were traced back to him, there would be trouble, he thought, as he had listened to the excited voice of the commentator. The guard dead and Lewin and Meeks killed! This was going to cause a sensation. If his name got hooked to the robbery, Chief of Police O'Harridan would have to move against him, and that was the last thing Ben wanted. He had been waiting for Borg to ring; cursing him for keeping him waiting. He had been waiting now for two hours, and the sound of the telephone galvanized him into life.

“Yeah?” he said into the mouthpiece. “Who's that?”

“Borg.” The fat, breathless voice came over the line like treacle.

“It's a gyp. He hasn't shown.”

Ben felt a hot wave of rage run through him.

“Keep talking!” he snarled.

“I've been waiting here for two hours and there's no sign of him,” Borg said. “We had arranged to meet at nine-thirty. It's close on twelve now. He's run out on us.”

“Maybe not,” Ben said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “He may be in trouble. The radio said he and Franks went off in the car. Franks was wounded. The police may have got him.”

“The police haven't got him, but they've found Franks. Green dumped him by the roadside; left him to bleed to death. When the cops picked him up, he'd been dead at least half an hour. No, Green's skipped all right; skipped with the diamonds.”

Ben thought of the fifty thousand dollars he had paid Green.

He thought of the two million dollars he could have got for the diamonds. He thought of the yacht.

“If that punk thinks he can double cross me, and get away with it, he's got another thing coming,” he said, his voice shrill with rage. “Get after him! Do you hear! Get after him!”

“He doesn't exist,” Borg said, unconsciously echoing Harry's words. “He never was Harry Green. By now he's got rid of his limp and that scar and he's someone else. I told you how it would be.”

Ben slid off the desk into his chair. His face was white and glistening. His eyes looked like river-washed pebbles.

“Do you know the number of the car?”

“LMX—999007. How's that help you?”

“Shut up asking questions!” Ben's hand gripped the telephone so tightly, he drove the blood out of his nails. “Listen, you're to find this guy. I don't care how long it takes or how much it costs. Find him! And listen, I don't want to set eyes on you again until you do find him. Understand? You've got no other job until you've found him, and if you don't find him you haven't got a job.”

“I'll find him,” Borg said placidly. “It’ll take time, but I'll find him.”

“That Glorie Dane woman might know where he is. Get after her,” Ben said. “I don't have to tell you how to find him, just find him!”

He slammed down the receiver and sat for a long moment staring down at the desk blotter.

“What is it, honey?” Fay asked, raising her lovely head to stare blankly at him. “You sound angry.”

“Shut up!” Ben shouted. “Keep out of this.” He picked up the receiver, said, “Give me police headquarters.”

Fay made a futile face and sank back on to the settee. She reached for a chocolate from the box at her side and studied it with interest. It was a bore that Ben was cross, she thought.

She wanted him to take her to the movies tonight. Now, he would rant and rave until bedtime. She lifted her shoulders. Of course he would be sorry in the morning. He'd give her a present to make up for his rudeness, but it was a bore. She put the chocolate in her mouth and thought how good it tasted.

Ben said, “Give me O'Harridan.” He waited, then when the Chief of Police came on the line, he went on, “Pat? This is Ben. How are you? Swell. Yeah, I'm fine. Look, Pat, I've some inside dope you might be able to use. One of my boys tipped me off. The guy who pulled that aeroplane robbery is Harry Green. No, I don't know anything else about him except I heard he had his photograph taken at the Photomat on Essex Street. My man seems to think the limp and the scar's a fake. His car is a Pontiac, number LMX—999007.” He listened, a fixed wolfish grin on his thin lips. “Why sure, Pat. You know I always do what I can. Yeah; hope you catch him. This type of hold-up is bad for trade.”

He laughed. “Let me know if you get him. Yeah. Be seeing you. So long for now.”

He hung up.

chapter four

I

Long after Harry had fallen asleep, Glorie lay awake beside him, staring up at the bars of light across the ceiling that came in through the blind from the illuminated office sign.