For a long moment, she stood staring at this big, blond boy aware only of the faint sound of the central heating motor below and the violent beating of her heart.
During that moment, her mind was paralysed by shock, then her resilience absorbed the shock and fury gripped her, sending blood to her face, making the veins in her neck throb and giving her face an expression of vicious rage.
“How dare you come back!” she screamed at him. “Get out! Do you hear me! Get out!”
He flinched, then rubbed the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Excuse me, ma’am… I had to see you.”
She strode to the door and threw it open.
“Get out or I’ll call the police!”
The moment she had said it, she knew she had lost control of herself. Police? The last thing she would want was a curious Swiss policeman here. She forced down her rage and her mind began to function. What was he doing here… more blackmail! He wouldn’t dare! He was an Army deserter… and yet Archer was a thief and a forger and he hadn’t hesitated to blackmail her. Could this lout of a boy realize what she stood to lose if he gave her away?
But she was determined to intimidate him.
“Get out!” she screamed at him.
“Ma’am… please… won’t you listen to me? I want to say I’m sorry.” He twisted his cap, his face in despair. “Honestly, ma’am… I want you to believe me… I’m sorry.”
She drew in a deep breath, controlling her fury.
“Rather late, isn’t it?” she said bitterly. “Sorry? After what you have done? After the way I treated you? You have the impudence to come here and tell me you’re sorry. Oh, go away! The sight of you sickens me!”
“Yeah… I guess you have reason.” He shuffled his feet. “Ma’am, I want to help you. When I told Ron, he said I was a dirty sonofabitch. He said if I didn’t do something about this, he’d never speak to me again.”
Helga stiffened.
“You told Ron?”
“Yes, ma’am. I told him last night on the phone. You see, ma’am, I owe him money. This fat guy gave me fifteen hundred dollars. I guess I was a little excited. I haven’t had so much money in one lump before. I told Ron I was buying a second-hand car and then he wanted to know how I got the money… so I told him.”
How many more were going to know what a reckless, mad fool she had been? she thought. This boy, that awful little queer, Archer and now this man, Ron.
She went over to the bar, poured a large slug of vodka into a glass and without bothering to add ice, she gulped it down. The neat spirit made her eyes water, but it knitted her together so she ceased to tremble. She sat down, opened her bag and took out her cigarettes. She lit one, then she pointed to a chair away from her.
“Sit down!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Awkwardly and sheepishly, he sat on the edge of the chair and looked down at his hands.
“Ron was real wild with me, ma’am,” he said. “He said a blackmailer is the dirtiest thing on earth. He said I was a stinking creep to have done such a thing. I - I told him I wasn’t a blackmailer. I was paid to do a job and I did it. I wouldn’t blackmail anyone.” He looked up, staring miserably at her. “He said what I had done was blackmail and he’d never speak to me again unless I came to you and explained.”
“Did you tell him who I was?” Helga asked.
He nodded.
“I guess I did. I told him everything: how you got my passport for me and about this fat guy. He said I had to help you… so I’m here, ma’am. I’ve been waiting for hours here hoping you would come. I’m going to help you, ma’am.”
Helga made an impatient movement, sending her cigarette ash on the carpet.
“Help me? You? What do you think you can do? It’s now much too late for anyone to help me! Now, get out! The sight of you sickens me!”
“He’s got photos of us, hasn’t he?”
“You know he has and he’s now blackmailing me!”
“I’ll get them from him, ma’am, and I’ll give them to you!”
“You’re talking like the fool you are! They are now out of reach. He’s mailed them to his bank!”
There was a pause, then Larry said quietly, “Is he out of reach, ma’am?”
There was this deadly note in his voice she had heard before when he had said to Friedlander: What would it cost you if you got your hands crushed in a door?
She regarded him, her body suddenly tense.
“What do you mean?”
He put his cap down on the floor beside him and took out a pack of chewing gum. As he stripped off the wrapper, he said, “If I could get hold of him, ma’am, I could persuade him to get the photos from the bank and then you could have them.”
She pressed her hands to her face.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. These photos are far too important for him to be persuaded to part with them. Just go away and leave this to me… you’re talking nonsense.”
He fed a strip of gum in his mouth and began to chew.
“Ma’am… do you want me to help you?” There was an edge to his voice: a male edge which told her he was getting bored with her hysterics.
“How can you help me?” She was shrewd enough to soften her voice. “Nothing would persuade him to part with those photographs.”
He regarded her, his Slav features without expression.
“I don’t know about nothing, ma’am… but I could.”
Again there was this note in his voice and she looked closely at him and she felt as if an icy draught had brushed over her, leaving her cold.
“But how?”
“With these.” And he held up his huge hands. “He’s soft and fat… there would be no trouble.”
Her eyes opened wide as a flicker of hope came to her. Her heart began to pound.
“But the photos are in the bank by now.”
He shrugged.
“All he has to do is to write to the bank and tell them to send the photos here… they’d do that, wouldn’t they?”
She got up, her legs unsteady, and went to the bar.
“You’d better have a drink, Larry.”
“Not for me, ma’am… unless you have a beer.”
She took a beer out of the refrigerator, poured it, then gave herself another vodka, adding ice and martini. While she was preparing the drinks, she was thinking.
Could this boy force Archer to sign a letter to the bank? She thought of Archer, massive, but soft and fat. She looked at Larry: built like a fighter and she could see his lumpy muscles straining against his jacket.
She handed him the beer and sat down.
“If the bank got a letter from him, they would act on his instructions,” she said, “but he wouldn’t sign.”
“He’ll sign, ma’am. That’s no problem.”
The way he spoke gave her hope and suddenly she felt as if a burdensome, crushing weight had been lifted off her.
“You mink you can make him sign?
He nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sipped her drink, put down the glass and lit another cigarette.
“Let me mink about this, Larry.”
After a long pause, she asked, “How long will it take you to make him sign?”
Larry considered this question as he chewed, then he shrugged.
“That’s hard to say, ma’am. It depends on how stubborn he is. If he was younger, it wouldn’t take long: a couple of hours, but he’s getting old and he’s fat and soft. I’d have to handle him carefully.” He looked up, his eyes remote. “I’d say twenty-four hours: that’s the outside limit. He’ll sign before then I reckon, but let’s say twenty-four hours to be on the safe side.”
She shuddered. There was something so clinical and cold about this boy now that he was beginning to frighten her, and yet, here was the solution: a solution she couldn’t afford not to accept. She had to have those photographs. She had an instinctive feeling that Archer would again dip into the account once he was sure he had her where he wanted her and she would have to lie again and again to Herman.
I can’t wait that long, Larry. My husband is arriving here the day after tomorrow. The bank will take at least a day to return the photographs. Archer will have to stay here until they arrive. We’ve left it too late.”
“Archer… is that his name, ma’am?”
“Yes. We’ve left it too late.”
“A problem is a challenge… that’s what Ron always says. Can’t you mink of some way around this one?”
She was in the mood to face a challenge. Her mind worked swiftly and she came up with a possible solution. She looked at her watch. Her husband would be in his New York apartment clearing up final business before flying to Geneva the day after tomorrow. She got up and crossed to the telephone and dialled his New York number. There was a long pause, then she heard the ringing tone.
“This is Mr. Rolfe’s residence.”
She recognized Hinkle’s fruity voice.
“Oh, Hinkle, this is Mrs. Rolfe. Is my husband available?”
“No, madame. He is in conference. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes… the wretched central heating system has broken down at the villa. I’m calling from the Eden hotel. There is a spare part broken and the engineer tells me the heating won’t be working for at least four days. I think Mr. Rolfe should cancel his flight. He can’t possibly stay in the villa… it’s like an ice box, and you know how he detests staying at an hotel.”
“Yes, indeed, madame. You say four days? Mr. Rolfe will be disappointed.” 105
“As soon as the heating is working, I will telephone.” She hesitated, then went on, “If he decides to come in spite of this will you send me a telex at the Eden?”
“I assure you, madame, he will postpone the flight,” Hinkle said, and she drew in a quick breath of relief. She remembered Hinkle detested staying at an hotel even more than Herman did and from the tone of his voice, she was sure he would persuade Herman not to come.
“How is Mr. Rolfe?”
“Very fair, madame.”
This was Hinkle’s stock answer which could mean anything.
“Then I won’t expect him?
“No, madame.”
“All right, Hinkle… I’ll be telephoning as soon as I have news. She hung up.
“That was smart, ma’am,” Larry said. “You see… a problem is a challenge… Ron’s right.”
She wasn’t listening. She was thinking now of Archer. Here was another problem: suppose he wouldn’t come to the villa? Suppose he became suspicious that she might be up to something? He held the whip hand. He could refuse to come and insist that she should come to the hotel.
As if following her thoughts, Larry said, “How about Archer? Can you get him up here?”
“I’m not sure… let me think.”
She walked to the window and looked down at the lake, her mind busy. The whole plan would be defeated if Archer refused to come and he might well refuse. She would refuse if she were in his place. Why should he come? He had said she was dangerous. She felt suddenly sure that he wouldn’t come, but he would insist she brought the stock list to the hotel… unless she could trick him into coming.
She moved away from the window, picked up a cigarette and lit it. She was aware that Larry was watching her. She looked at her wristwatch. The time was 12.05. There was a chance Archer would have returned to the hotel for a pre-lunch cocktail. He was expecting her to call at 15.00. She decided the only way to trap him was to bustle him into coming so he would have no time for caution nor to suspect this could be a trap.
A fidgeting movement from Larry broke her concentration. She looked impatiently at him.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I could do with something to eat. Is there anything to eat?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead.
“For God’s sake, don’t bother me… I’m trying to think. Go to the kitchen and help yourself!”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
As he left the room she sat down and picked up her drink. She sat still, her mind concentrating on the problem. Finally, after ten minutes of thought, she came up with a possible solution. Considering this solution, she was now fairly satisfied that she could get Archer to come to the villa. But once he was there, would Larry be able to handle him? He seemed certain he could, but suppose Archer refused to sign the letter? He might have more steel in him than he appeared to have. If Larry failed, Archer would take his revenge. Then she remembered the deadly note in Larry’s voice and the remote, cold look in his eyes when he said: He’s soft and fat. That would be no problem.
Sink or swim, Archer had said. Well, she too wasn’t the sinking type.
“It’s all ready, ma’am,” Larry said coming to the door. “Come on… you gotta eat.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Oh, come on, ma’am. We could have a rough afternoon. Have you thought of something?”
“Yes.”
“Fine… let’s eat.”
Shrugging she went with him into the kitchen. He had made a vast bowl of spaghetti, using the peeled tomatoes, the tomato puree and the onions she had bought.
It looked so appetising that she suddenly felt hungry. Together, in silence, they demolished the pasta.
“You’re quite a cook, Larry.”
He gave her his warm, friendly smile. “Yeah… I’m not bad… my Ma taught me.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When are you getting him up here, ma’am?”
She stood up, pushing the kitchen chair away from her.
“If he’s coming… in about half an hour.”
She went into the living-room for a cigarette. Larry followed her.
“Any idea how he will come, ma’am?”
“He has a hired car.”
As Larry stripped the wrapping from a piece of gum, she lit her cigarette.
“Do you think if I opened the garage door, he’d drive in?”
She looked at him, puzzled.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, ma’am, it would be best if we did the talking in the games room downstairs.” He looked around the elegantly furnished room. “This is a nice room. It would be a shame to mess it up.”
Again she felt as if an icy draught had blown around her.
“You’re not going to… hurt him?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I hope not.” He smiled. “But some of these elderly finks think they are younger than they are. I might have to smack him a couple of times. I don’t reckon I’ll have to, but if I did and he fell over, the best place for him to fall over would be in the games room, wouldn’t it?”
Suddenly, she felt slightly sick.
“He’s no fool, Larry. I couldn’t persuade him to go down to the games room. He would immediately suspect something.”
Larry chewed and thought about this.
“Yeah… well, that’s okay. I won’t smack him so hard then. If I have to soften him, I’ll take him down to the games room. So maybe we’d better not waste any more time, ma’am. Will you get him up here?”
She hesitated for a few moments. Should she do this? Was she bringing further disaster on herself? Then she remembered Archer’s merciless eyes as he had said: Decision? You have no choice! I have you where I want you!
She went to the telephone and dialled the number of the Eden hotel.
“Is Mr. Archer in the hotel, please?”
“A moment, madame.”
She waited several moments.
“Hello, yes? Who’s that?” Archer’s voice boomed over the line. She could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was on his third cocktail.
“Jack! I have to see you! Something’s happened!” She put urgency in her voice.
“Is that you, Helga?”
“Yes… of course! Will you come to the villa at once?”
“What do you mean? I’m about to have lunch.” All the charm had gone from his voice now. “We have an appointment at three and I’m expecting you here.”
“I’m catching a train to Milan in two hours, Jack. I’m flying back to New York tonight.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She caught an uncertain note in his voice.
“Don’t ask questions, Jack. We’re on an open line. Hinkle has just telephoned. There is an emergency. It’s bad. I’m flying back tonight.”
“Good God! Is it…?”
“Jack!” Her scream cut him short. “Not on an open line. Hinkle says it is touch and go. Not a word, Jack! This could upset the market… it could plunge… will you come?”
“You damn well bet I’m coming! Be with you in ten minutes,” and the line went dead.
Slowly she replaced the receiver: a surge of triumph running through her. It had been an inspired thought and it had worked. She had conveyed to Archer that Herman was either dying or dead. She had mentioned the Stock Market. That would stop him trying to check if it was a lie or not. She knew even the slightest rumour that Herman was ill would send prices plunging. For Archer, this would be the time to sell before the news hit the headlines, men when the market had absorbed the shock, to buy back. He would also realize as he came storming up the St. Moritz highway that with Herman dead, he would lose his power over Helga. He would be in the mood to try to make a bargain.
She looked at Larry.
“It worked,” she said breathlessly. “He’s coming.”
Alone, Helga stood by the window that overlooked the private road leading to the villa, a cigarette burning in her fingers. Her heart was thumping and she felt cold in spite of the heating. She was committed now: there was no turning back. She hated violence. She could never bear to see violence on the movies or the TV screen and yet she knew there would be violence here this afternoon. She knew once Archer realized he had been tricked he would be like a raging, vicious bull. She had no doubt that Larry, a much younger and fitter man could cope with him, but the thought of what was to come sickened her.
Larry had said he would stay out of sight until Archer was in the living-room.
“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.”
Archer glared at him, then at Helga.
“By God! I’ll make you two pay for this,” he mumbled. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood from his mouth. The spite and viciousness in his eyes chilled Helga.
“Sure… sure,” Larry said softly. “We know all about that. Go ahead… get in mere!”
Unsteadily and moving like a cripple, Archer walked into the sitting-room. He picked up his denture and put it in his mouth.
“Maybe, ma’am, you’d better write the letter. I don’t reckon he’s up to it,” Larry said, eyeing Archer.
“Yes,” Helga said.
“Sit down,” Larry said to Archer. “Take it easy.”
Archer sank into a chair and held his face in his hands. His breathing was very laboured and alarmed Helga.
“Is he all right?”
“Oh, sure, ma’am… he’s fine. Don’t worry about him,” Larry said. “You get that letter written.”
Helga went to the desk, took a portable Olivetti from one of the bottom drawers and put it on the desk. Her hands were shaking a little, and the paper rattled as she threaded it into the typewriter. She hesitated for a long moment, breathing deeply until she regained some composure, then she began to type.
The only sound in the big room was the clacking of the typewriter and Archer’s laboured breathing.
Larry stripped a stick of chewing gum and put it in his mouth.
It took Helga only a few minutes to complete the letter. She ripped the sheet out of the typewriter and checked what she had written.
Villa Helios Castagnola 6976 The Manager, Central Bank of Vaud. Lausanne. 1003.
Dear Sir,
Yesterday, I mailed to you an envelope marked “To be opened in the event of my death.”
I now find I need to make additions to the document contained in the second sealed envelope. Will you please return this envelope, unopened, to me by registered and express mail at the above address. Your immediate action will oblige.
Yours truly,
John Lee Archer
She put the letter on the desk and looked at Archer who still sat motionless, his face in his hands.
“Jack…”
He didn’t move and Larry, frowning, gave him a hard poke in his back with his finger.
“The lady’s speaking to you, buster,” he said.
Archer looked up slowly and her heart sank when she saw the expression in his eyes. She saw then he had more steel in him than she had imagined. He had absorbed the first shock, and now his bruised face was set and his eyes glittered with the viciousness of a cornered animal.
“I’ll read the letter to you,” she said.
He pressed his hand to his aching face and continued to glare at her.
Her voice a little husky, she read the letter aloud. He just sat there, now staring down at the carpet and mopping at his bleeding mouth.
“Will you sign it?” she asked.
He looked up.
“I forged your signature… go ahead and forge mine.” The hate in his eyes sickened her. “Go ahead and see how far it’ll get you.”
Larry made a slight movement towards him, but Helga gestured to him to stay where he was.
“Jack… I told you I hold four aces. You’ll sign sooner or later. I must have those photographs,” she said, her hands into fists on the desk. “I hate this. I want to spare you although you don’t deserve any consideration, but I do want to spare you. Please sign this letter.”
“You and your pimp can go to hell!” Archer snarled. “As long as I have those photographs I’m safe… without them, I’m not.”
“If you sign this letter Jack, and I get the photos, I give you my solemn promise that Herman won’t prosecute, but you’ll have to lose the account. I promise you won’t go to prison.”
“What’s your promise worth to me? It’s stalemate, you bitch. I’m not signing.”
“Larry promised me he would make you sign,” Helga said, trying desperately to quell the panic and despair rising in her. “That means he will ill-treat you. For God’s sake, Jack! I don’t want you hurt. Please sign this letter!”
Archer stared at her, his eyes narrowing.
“I told you… it’s stalemate! If this ape starts knocking me about, he could kill me. “In the event of my death”… remember? I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone. I have a bad heart. My quack warned me on no account was I to over-exert myself. So go ahead if you want me dead. Tell your ape to start knocking me about.”
Larry, chewing gum, was listening to all this, his eyes shifting from Helga to Archer and back to Helga again. He saw the dismay growing in Helga’s eyes and he moved into action.
He went up to Archer.
“Up on your feet!” he said. “You and me are going downstairs. Come on.”
“No!” Helga’s voice was shrill. “Don’t touch him!”
“It’s okay, ma’am. I’m not touching him unless I have to. I want to talk to him. On your feet, buster.”
Archer stood up.
“Keep away from me! I’m walking out of here and I’m daring either of you to stop me! Now, get out of my way!”
With a movement like a striking snake, Larry’s big hand closed over Archer’s wrist, twisted, had Archer spinning around and then bending his arm he had him in a paralysing grip. Helga jumped to her feet.
“Larry! No!”
“It’s okay,” Larry said quietly. “He doesn’t want to drop dead, do you, Fatso? Move with the legs.”
Her heart hammering, Helga watched Larry march Archer out of the room. She heard them going down the stairs and she walked unsteadily to an armchair and sank into it and put her hands to her face.
Her bluff had been called. From the moment she had agreed to let Larry help her, she had a feeling it would end in disaster. She dare not risk Archer dying. It would be better to submit to his blackmail. Jumping to her feet, she ran into the hall and paused as she saw Larry coming up the stairs from the cellars.
“What have you done with him?”
“He’s okay, ma’am. I’ve locked him in one of the cellars… the one at the far end… the empty one. He can’t get out. I thought maybe you and me ought to have a talk before we do anything more.”
She went back into the sitting-room. 119
“We must let him go, Larry.”
“Do you think he’s bluffing about his bad heart, ma’am?”
She lifted her hands helplessly.
“How do I know? He looks like a man with heart trouble. I don’t know, but if you try to force him to sign and he the dies… no, Larry, we can’t do it.”
Larry rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mind if I have a beer, ma’am?”
“No… help yourself… have anything!”
He went over to the bar, opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of beer.
“This is pretty handy, isn’t it, ma’am? You’ve certainly got it all laid on. Do you want something?”
“No.”
She sat in despair, trying to think of a way out and finding none.
I’ll make you two pay for this!
He would, of course. He knew Larry was an Army deserter. He would inform against him. Herself? He would be merciless, bleeding the account with impunity, making her cover up his embezzlement.
“Look, ma’am, take it easy,” Larry said. He carried his glass of beer from the bar and sat down opposite her. “We can still fix this. Have you got a copy of his signature?”
She stiffened and looked quickly at him.
“Yes, but I could never forge it.”
“Could I see it, ma’am?”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“Could I see it, ma’am?”
She went to the desk, found a file containing the dozens of letters Archer had written to her concerning business transactions. She looked at the almost indecipherable signature. No… to forge that wasn’t possible.
She handed one of the letters to Larry who looked at it.
“A real mean signature, isn’t it, ma’am?”
“Yes, but his bank knows it. It is impossible to forge.”
“Maxie could do it with his eyes shut.”
She stiffened.
“Who?”
“Maxie Friedlander… the guy who fixed my passport. He could do it.”
The feeling of utter defeat and despair that was crushing her lifted.
“Would he?”
Larry smiled his warm, friendly smile.
“From what Ron tells me, ma’am, Maxie would cut his own throat if the money was right. Yeah… he’d do it.”
“He wouldn’t ask questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But he would have to see the letter, Larry. It gives my address. He could blackmail me.”
“He needn’t see the letter. You could cover it up. Anyway, Maxie wouldn’t 121
want trouble. You pay him enough and there’ll be no kick-back.”
“How much would he want?”
“I don’t know that, ma’am. Maybe what you paid him for my passport. I’ll get it as cheap as I can.”
She leaned forward, clasping her hands.
“Will you do it?”
“Why, sure, ma’am. Ron told me I was to help you and that’s what I’m going to do. Give me the money and I’ll go now if you’ll let me have your car. I reckon it’ll take me a little over five hours to get to Basle.” He looked at the ornate clock on the overmantel. “It’s now nearly two o’clock. I’ll be with Maxie around seven o’clock. Maybe he’ll take an hour for the job. I’ll be back here by two in the morning. How’s that?”
Again she had the feeling of pending disaster, but she could think of no other alternative.
“Thank you, Larry. Take the car. What about… him?”
“I’ll fix him up before I go. He’ll want something to eat and a bucket to pee in. You leave all this to me. I’ll be off in half an hour.”
He went briskly into the kitchen.
She sat mere for some moments, trying to convince herself that this new plan could save her, but she was too shaken and uneasy to think coherently. She got up and went into the kitchen to find Larry boiling four eggs and defrosting bread in the oven.
“This will keep him going, ma’am, until I get back. Keep away from him. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Don’t take risks, Larry. For God’s sake, don’t have an accident.”
“I’ll watch it, ma’am. Will you get the letter ready?”
“Yes.”
She went back to the sitting-room, found two sheets of typing paper and put the letter between them, leaving room for the signature space to protrude. She taped the two sheets together, completely concealing the letter. She folded it carefully and put it in a large envelope.
It would mean another day’s delay, she thought. She had to see the letter before she posted it to the Bank. She had to be sure the signature would be acceptable.
Then she went into the room. Herman used as a study, pushed back one of the oak panels to reveal a small safe. She spun the dial, opened the safe and took from it a leather folder. From the folder, she counted our forty one hundred franc notes. Returning the folder and relocking the safe, she went back to the sitting-room.
“Larry?”
As he didn’t reply, she went to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. She went to the top of the stairs leading to the cellar. She could hear him talking. Moving quietly, she went down a few of the stairs to hear better.
She heard him say, “Make yourself at home, Fatso. You’ve got food now and it won’t be long before we let you go. Just take it easy.”
She heard a door slam, then Larry came running along the passage, pausing when he saw her. He grinned.
“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Just keep clear of him. He can’t get out. I’ll get going. You got the letter?”
They climbed the stairs together and went into the sitting-room.
“Here’s four thousand francs, Larry. Do you think it’ll be enough?”
“Yeah, ma’am. I’ll talk him into it. Sure, it’s more than enough.”
“And here’s the letter.”
She took the letter from the envelope and showed him how she had concealed the letter.
“Stay with him while he does it, Larry. Make sure he doesn’t see what’s written here.”
“You bet, ma’am.”
She put her hand on his arm.
“And thank you, Larry, for all you’re doing for me.”
He smiled.
“Thank you, ma’am for giving me the chance to put things right. Don’t you worry… I’ll fix it. See you around two tonight.”
“Don’t take risks.”
“I won’t. Well, so long, ma’am… be seeing you,” and he went out of the living-room, out into the hall, snatched up his baseball cap, then opening the front door, he ran down the steps to the garage.
Standing by the big window, Helga watched him drive down the grit strewn road until the car disappeared from sight.
She suddenly felt very alone.