James Chase - You've Got It Coming

He had realized his only chance was to return the diamonds: his gamble had failed. He had returned to his hotel, taken the diamonds from the safe deposit, packed them and sent them to Takamori. It depended now on if he could trust Takamori to keep his side of the bargain. He thought he could. As Takamori had said, his only interest was to get the diamonds back. He didn't care what happened to Harry.

But Harry had thought it safer to get out of Los Angeles. He had decided that Oklahoma City was far enough away to be safe anyway until he knew what Takamori was going to do. From Oklahoma City he was in a position to go north or south, according to the situation as he would find it the next day.

During the flight from Los Angeles, he had considered his position. Instead of having a million and a half dollars, he now had only fifty thousand. Fifty thousand dollars was more money than he had ever owned in his life, but in comparison with what he had hoped to have, it was now to him a mere nothing.

There was now no possibility of going to Europe. Fifty thousand dollars represented his working capital, and he didn't intend to waste a cent of it. He could still buy himself a partnership in some air-taxi business, but as he had made up his mind to finance his own company, he was reluctant to give up the idea.

It would be tight going if he bought an aircraft with the amount of capital he had now. It could be done, but it would mean a long, dreary slog before he showed any profit, and he was reluctant to face up to that kind of hard work.

He was still turning the problem over in his mind as the aircraft touched down and taxied towards the battery of lights that lit up the end of the runway. He could see a group of people waiting and he looked for Glorie, but couldn't see her.

As the engines died and the airhostess pushed open the door, Harry got to his feet and stepped out into the gangway. The plane was full, and it took him some minutes before he could walk down the gangway and out into the warm, night air. Then he saw Glorie and he waved. She ran over to him.

''Hello, there,” he said. “Let's go somewhere where we can talk,” Glorie said and, taking his arm, she manoeuvred him into the group of people who were moving towards the reception hall.

“Let them go ahead,” he said, pulling back. “We're in no hurry.”

“No, Harry, keep with them,” Glorie said, and the note in her voice made him look sharply at her. Her white, strained face and the look of fear in her eyes jolted him. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“It's Borg,” Glorie said, holding tightly on to his arm and keeping him moving so that he remained in the group that surged towards the reception hall. “He knows you're here. He's hiding somewhere. He's after us, Harry!”

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He lengthened his stride so that he could keep pace with the people around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You mean he is actually here—where?”

“I don't know. I've looked for him, but I can't see him. He may be out there in the dark. He may be anywhere.”

“He knows you: he doesn't know me,” Harry said, a snarl in his voice. “Why the hell did you meet me? You've given me away!”

“I haven't.” Glorie's voice shook. “He's got a photograph of us—you as well as me.”

“A photograph of me? You mean of Harry Green, don't you?”

“No. I don't know how he got it, but he's got a photograph of you.”

By now they had reached the reception hall and they walked into the buffet. The curtains were drawn across the windows and the big room was full of people waiting for their flights or waiting for their cars to take them away from the airport. The room gave Harry a feeling of safety.

“Sit where we can watch the door,” he said.

They made their way across the room to an empty table and sat down. Harry slid his hand inside his coat and pulled out his gun. He held it in his lap. It was hidden by the table, but he could swing it into instant action by kicking the table away.

A waiter came over and Harry ordered two double whiskies.

He and Glorie sat side by side, not speaking until the waiter had served them. Then, when he had gone away, Harry said, “Let's get this straight. Do you mean he's got a photograph of me and not Harry Green?”

“Yes, the hotel detective said he recognized you from the photograph Borg showed him.”

Harry began to sweat.

“Then he knows who I am? How the hell did he find out?” He turned to glare at Glorie. “Your smart idea's a damn washout, isn't it? What hotel detective? Tell me what's been happening.”

Briefly Glorie told him about Dodge.

“I warned you, darling,” she said. “I knew Ben would come after us. That awful man is dangerous. I've heard tales about him.”

Harry knew Borg was dangerous without being told. He drank half his whisky, then lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving the door across the room.

“You should have kept clear of me,” he said. “The chances were he wouldn't have recognized me in the dark. But he couldn't have failed to spot you in that costume you're wearing. What the hell were you thinking of to wear a black-and-white thing like that? A blind man could spot you.”

“I hadn't any time to change,” Glorie said, “I only just caught the plane. I didn't know what to do. I had to warn you.”

“We can't stay here all night,” Harry said. “Did you fix a hotel?”

“No, darling. I've only been here half an hour, and I've been trying to find Borg.”

“You seem to have made a complete mess of this,” Harry said angrily. “So now we've nowhere to go?”

Glorie held on to herself with an Effort. She knew he was frightened and he was taking it out on her only because he was too scared to think what to do. She realized it would depend on her to get them out of this mess if they were going to get out of it.

“What happened to you, Harry? You didn't get the money?”

“No. That yellow snake guessed I'd pulled the robbery. I had to give him the diamonds for nothing.”

Glorie went white.

“Is he telling the police?”

“He says not. I don't think he will. But to hell with him! We've got to do something about Borg.”

“Look, Harry, will you stay here? He wouldn't dare do anything here. I'll get a car. I'll find a hotel. Stay here and wait for me.”

Harry scowled, but she could see the relief in his eyes.

“Well, I don't know. I suppose it's all right. He's not likely to do anything to you. Okay, I'll hang on here. See if you can get a car—but hurry!”

She got up and willed herself to walk across the room and into the reception hall.

He's not likely to do anything to you. Glorie wished she could believe that. If Ben had sent Borg after them, he would have told him to go for her as well as Harry. She knew Ben. He wouldn't let her get away with double crossing him.

She went to the exit and paused in the doorway looking out into the shadowy darkness. A line of taxis was drawn up across the way, but she wanted a private hire car. As she stood, looking to right and left, she heard a girl's voice saying, “For heaven's sake! Do you mean you haven't a pilot who can help me?”

Glorie looked over her shoulder.

A girl stood near her: she was slight and very blonde; her silky, straw-coloured hair lay on her shoulders in thick, heavy waves. She was wearing blue jeans and a well-worn suede windbreaker. Glorie thought she was around twenty-two or three, and, looking at her, she admired her hair and the straight way she held herself. She was talking to one of the airport officials.

“I'm sorry, Miss Graynor, but we can't help you,” he was saying. “All our pilots are working.”

“But look, my man is ill. He can't fly. I've got to get home tonight. You must do something.”