I checked my watch before I began to climb. The time was 22.40. I looked across at the distant Imperial Hotel. It was ablaze with lights. Savanto’s suite, on the top floor, also showed lights. It was a hot night. The chances were he would be on the balcony, but if he was in his bedroom or his sitting-room, I was sure I could still nail him with the telescopic sight to help me. But luck had to fall my way. He might not be in the suite, but if he wasn’t, why the lights?
I hauled myself up into the steel structure of the crane. I found it was an easy climb. It was now a matter of endurance. I told myself I had to pace myself like a runner in a marathon. The golf bag didn’t help. Every so often it got caught between the cross bars and pulled me up short. I had to pause while I disentangled it. When I was level with the fifth floor of the building, I stopped to look down into the darkness.
Storm clouds were rolling across the sky. Sometime during the night it would rain. I knew the signs and welcomed them. With the clouds moving before the gentle wind, the moon was being continually obscured. I was sure anyone looking up the crane wouldn’t see me.
I wedged myself between the cross bars to rest. If I rushed this climb and reached the roof exhausted and ran into one of Savanto’s killers, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
I sat there, relaxing, looking across at the Imperial Hotel. There were a number of people on the five balconies on Savanto’s floor. From this level and from this distance I became uncertain which was his suite. Each balcony had a frosted glass partition, giving privacy. I counted from the far end and decided the third balcony suite must be Savanto’s. Lights showed there, but there was no one on the balcony.
After resting for five minutes or so, I began to climb again. When I reached the tenth floor, I rested. Far below, I could see headlights as cars crawled along the traffic-congested boulevard. Away to my right I had an uninterrupted view of the beach and the sea. There were a lot of people swimming. Most of the beach was floodlit. Night bathing is one of the main attractions of Paradise City.
I went up to the fifteenth floor. I was glad I was wearing gloves. Even with gloves, my hands were getting sore. The con stant gripping on the steel girders as I pulled myself up was turning into hard work. By taking it slowly, although sweating in the heat, I was still breathing easily and that was the important thing. I rested again. I saw the lights go out in two of the top suites of the hotel, but the suite I was now sure belonged to Savanto remained lit.
The next stage of the climb took me to the overhanging arm of the crane which brought me level with the penthouse and its flat roof. Black clouds now crawled across the face of the moon and blotted out the penthouse just below me.
When I reached the arm of the crane I rested again. I saw a streak of distant lightning break the darkness of the clouds. There came a faint rumble of thunder. I had lived long enough in this district to know that it wouldn’t be for another hour before the storm broke.
I looked down into the darkness. Very faintly, I could make out the roof of the penthouse. I wedged the golf bag securely between two girders. My next move was to get rid of the guards if they were up on the roof. I waited for some moments, watching and listening, but I heard nothing and saw no movement on the roof just below me. Leaving the golf bag, I climbed along the arm of the crane until I reached the hanging hook. Here, I remained for some minutes. I looked across at the Imperial Hotel. The suite I was sure belonged to Savanto still showed lights, but the other suites were now in darkness. I couldn’t see anyone on the balcony. Maybe, I thought, my luck was beginning to run out.
I reached forward and caught hold of the cable from which the big hook was hanging and slid down the cable on to the roof. I took off my gloves and tucked them into my belt, then my hand closed around the sponge-covered handle of my knife. I pulled the knife from its sheath.
I moved around the roof of the penthouse, surveying the terrace below. Then it slowly dawned on me that there were no guards on the terrace. Every so often the storm clouds uncovered the moon and I could
see the terrace below me clearly.
Had I walked into a trap? No one guarding the crane and now, no one on the roof.
I paused to think, remembering the geography of the apartment block. It had three entrances and four elevators. None of the elevators operated after 18.00 when the agent closed down for the night. I put myself in the place of Savanto’s button men. Why walk up twenty flights of stairs to guard the roof when they could seal off the building by guarding the entrances, elevators and staircases? It was slack security, but it made sense.
I slid off the roof down on to the terrace, still moving silently, still holding the knife ready for action. It took me only a few minutes to convince myself that I was alone on the terrace.
I walked to the parapet surrounding the terrace and looked across at the Imperial Hotel. I could see the lights in Savanto’s sitting-room. There was no movement. No one seemed to be in the room or on the balcony.
There was time, I told myself. Now I was sure I was alone, I could fetch the Weston & Lees.
I put on my gloves and climbed back on to the penthouse roof. It was a struggle to climb the cable and get back on to the arm of the crane, but I did it. I went along the arm of the crane, collected the golf bag and made the return journey. As I began to move from cross bar to cross bar I began to wonder if it wasn’t all too easy. Was it possible Savanto had already gone back to Caracas? Was this the answer why the crane wasn’t guarded and there was no one on the roof? Could this be the answer?
It wouldn’t be until I looked through the telescopic sight into the distant room that I could tell. Maybe I would find some wealthy tourist installed in there instead of Savanto.
I took the golf bag down on to the terrace, slid out the rifle and lay flat, resting the rifle barrel on the parapet. I clipped on the telescopic sight, screwed on the silencer, then putting the rifle butt to my shoulder, I looked through the sight. A quick turn of the focusing screw brought the room into sharp focus. On the far wall of the room I saw the silver trout which I had noticed when I had first visited Savanto and I knew I was looking into the right room. I shifted the sight to take in the dark balcony. I picked up two lounging chairs: neither of them was occupied.
So I had to wait. Well, I had learned to wait. If luck was still running my way, Savanto would eventually come out on to the balcony. I was certain, from this range, once I had his head lined up in the cross wires of the sight, I could kill him.
Aware that the storm clouds were building up, feeling the heat of the night, I lay there, sweating, but relaxed. Every so often I looked through the sight, but I didn’t keep my eye glued to it. I wanted my eye to be relaxed when I took in the slack of the trigger.
Then suddenly I saw a movement in the sitting-room : a figure crossed before one of the standard lamps. I shifted the butt of the rifle into my shoulder and my eye went to the rubber eyecup of the sight.
In the sight, I picked up a blonde woman as she came out on to the balcony. I felt a surge of bitter disappointment run through me. So Savanto had gone! My suspicions had been right. Someone else had taken the suite.
Then I felt a creepy sensation crawl up my spine and my mouth turned dry. I was sweating badly and my body heat was so great that the eye-piece of the sight misted over.
Frantically I took out my handkerchief and wiped the eyepiece and then my face. I again looked through the sight.
The woman, standing on the balcony, the light from the sitting-room lighting her hair, looking exactly like Lucy !
I looked again. My heart skipped a beat and then began to race. It was Lucy ! Lucy whom I had thought dead! Lucy whom I had mourned and buried! It was Lucy !
Then I saw a movement and I slightly shifted the sight. A tall, lean man was now standing by her side. It was Timoteo. There could be no mistake. Lucy and Timoteo were standing together on the balcony looking towards me!
“They make a handsome couple, don’t they, Mr. Benson?” Savanto said quietly from out of the darkness.
I dropped the rifle and rolled over. I could just see his square- shaped figure outlined against the white wall of the penthouse. He was standing some fifteen feet away from me.
I was too shocked to move or say anything. I just lay there, supported by my elbows, staring up at him.
“I am alone and unarmed,” Savanto said. “I wish to talk to you. Will you listen to what I have to say?”
My hand closed around the sponge-covered grip of the hunting knife. I half drew the knife from its sheath.
“I have some cigarettes,” he said. “It is against my doctor’s orders, but I find I can’t resist them. Will you smoke, Mr. Benson?”
I looked across at the distant balcony. Lucy and Timoteo were no longer there. Had I imagined I had seen them? Although I had the urge to kill this man I knew I couldn’t kill him with the knife. My years of training had made a rifle an impersonal weapon, but a knife to me was very personal.
I got to my feet and walked away from him. I sat on the parapet. He struck a match. He lit a cigarette and the flame of the match showed me he had aged and his black, snake’s eyes no longer glittered.
“In a few hours, Mr. Benson,” he said, “your wife and my son will be in Mexico City. From there, they will go somewhere else. I don’t know where, but it is necessary for their safety to disappear. You have lost a wife and I have lost a son. I regret what has happened. I regret that you were involved. We have a saying in my country : a man can get struck by a thunderbolt. This means that a man can meet a woman and a thunderbolt hits him. When Timoteo met your wife this happened. It also happened to her. It doesn’t often happen, but when it does, my people respect it, and I am forced to respect it too. Please think carefully, Mr. Benson. You are intelligent enough to know that your wife isn’t the woman for you. If you can accept this truth then the loss of your wife will be less sad to you than the loss of my son is to me. They are going to be happy together. You and I will be unhappy, but this is the way of life. I came here to explain all this to you. Raimundo, who is very loyal to me, arranged this meeting. I know you want to kill me.” He lifted his heavy shoulders. “That is understandable. I am an old man and I don’t fear death. But, first let me explain. Raimundo has already explained about Diaz Savanto. I now admit I made a grave mistake. I misjudged my son and I now know he hasn’t the qualifications to take my place. I must have funds if I am to improve the lot of my people. You know all about that. I couldn’t foresee the thunderbolt would strike my son. When he ran away with your wife, the situation became dangerous. I love my son and I couldn’t have ordered his death although the traditions of my people demand it. I am necessary to my people. The man who would take my place has no spine.” He dropped the butt of his cigarette on to the terrace and put his foot on it. “So, something had to be arranged. When one has money and influence as I have, Mr. Benson, it is easy to make arrangements. I had to convince Lopez that my son had been executed. Since my son ran away with a woman, Lopez had also to be convinced she too had died. Hartley, the bird watcher, was easy to bribe. Money buys most things. Lopez heard Hartley’s broadcast, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. I reckoned on that. I have learned to be thorough. It is the only way to succeed. Lopez was shown the bodies. I have a good man who is an expert mortician. He arranged everything. Your wife and my son were heavily drugged. The mortician arranged realistic-looking head wounds which could be wiped away with a sponge. Lopez was convinced. Now they are safe to go to Mexico City and to go from there somewhere else to begin a new life. I have lost a son. You have lost a wife. I am sorry for both of us.”
I thought of Lucy. I remembered her cry: I love him! I had lost her anyway and the whole thing suddenly became a bore.
“I am sorry about the brand, Mr. Benson,” Savanto went on. “I was forced to do it. There are spies everywhere who report back to Lopez what I am doing. I had to convince Lopez that I meant business if I was to
My hatred of him was so great that I found I was shaking.
“Okay, old man,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You have talked me out of killing you. But I am sorry for these peasants you say you are trying to help. A man like you who has such a dangerous mind can never help anyone but himself. But why should I care?” I stood up. “So my wife and your spineless son have a happy future. That’s fine. So you remain the boss of an organisation that will use vice and drugs to better the lives of a quarter of a million peasants. But I think these peasants would rather starve if they knew the filth of your money. You are just another gangster enjoying power. You are just another dirty thug hiding behind a screen of goodwill. Men like you aren’t fit to live, and men like you make me want to vomit.”
I started across the terrace towards the crane.
“Mr. Benson…”
I paused.
“I understand your anger and your bitterness,” Savanto said. “I wish to make reparations. Take these bonds. They will compensate you for losing your wife and for the brand. Please take them.”
I saw he was holding out an envelope.
Then I realised how I could really hurt him as I wanted to hurt him.
“Okay, I’ll take them,” I said.
I took the envelope from his hand. I checked to see that the envelope contained the two twenty-five thousand dollar bonds.
“Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Benson… it is a large sum of money,” Savanto said. “You can now begin to make a new life.”
“Why are you giving me this money?” I asked. “Is it a bribe to keep my mouth shut? So that when you get around to killing your nephew you will know I won’t squeal to the police?”
“No, Mr. Benson. I think you deserve compensation. I regret very much what has happened.”
I moved away from him. My hand went into my trousers’ pocket and I took out my cigarette lighter. I flicked it alight and held the flame to the envelope.
It gave me immense satisfaction to watch fifty thousand dollars catch fire and become smoking ash which I dropped at my feet.
I heard Savanto catch his breath. He started to his feet, making hissing sound through his teeth.
“How could you do such a thing!” he screamed. His voice was shaking with rage. “Goddam you! That money could have started a school for my people! It could have fed thousands of them for weeks!”
“Then why didn’t you give it to them?” I said. “You gave it to me. You gave it to me because your stinking, rotten conscience troubles you. If your peasants had the guts they would treat your money as I treat it.”
As I started towards the arm of the crane, I saw a movement out of the darkness. I stopped, my hand dropping on the handle of the knife.
“You can go down by the elevator, soldier,” Raimundo said as he moved out of the shadows. “It’s quicker and easier.”
He came into the moonlight, then he opened the french windows that led into the penthouse apartment.
I turned to Savanto.
“Screw you… and screw your peasants,” I said.
Then I walked through the luxuriously furnished room, lit by the moon.
Raimundo moved ahead of me and led me into the lobby and to the elevator.
He thumbed the button and the door slid open.
We looked at each other.
“That was a mistake, soldier,” he said. “He won’t forgive that.”
“I’m even with him,” I said. “That hurt him more than a bullet.”
Raimundo looked sadly at me, then shrugged.
“Well, you did it. So long, soldier.”
I entered the elevator cage.
“Screw you too,” I said, and thumbed the button to close the doors.
I rode down the twenty floors. As I walked across the lobby I saw two men sitting on the stairs, smoking. They didn’t move and I didn’t give a damn about them. As I walked into the hot night air, rain began to fall.
Lightning lit up the sky and thunder crashed overhead. As
I began to walk towards where I had left my car, rain poured down. I kept walking. I was quickly soaked, with rain dripping down my face, by the time I reached the Volkswagen. I got in, started the engine and headed back home: an empty home that would be lonely without Lucy, but at least a home.
I rode down the twenty floors. As I started across the lobby to the street, I saw two men sitting on the stairs, smoking : little men in dark suits, straw hats with brown flat faces and eyes like black olives. They stared at me as if they wanted to remember me again. Savanto’s button men. Savanto… the saviour of peasants!
I didn’t give a damn about them.
As I walked out into the hot night, rain began to fall. Lightlning lit up the sky and thunder crashed overhead. I kept walking to where I had left the car. I was quickly soaked. With rain dripping down my face, I reached
the Volkswagen.
I got in, started the engine and turned on the wipers. For a long moment I stared into the darkness, thinking. I was glad I had done what I had done.
I had spat in the face of an animal.
Then I shoved the gear stick forward and headed back home: an empty home that would be lonely without Lucy, but at least a home.
Extract from: Paradise City Herald
STOP PRESS
Latest
Late this evening, Detective Tom Lepski, Paradise City Police, found the dead body of Jay Benson lying on the verandah of Mr. Benson’s lonely bungalow at Western Bay.
Mr. Benson had been shot in the head.
"This is gang murder,” Chief of Police Frank Terrell stated. “Benson had been branded with the symbol of the Red Dragon, a known organisation dealing in drugs and vice."
Jay Benson, one-time top Army marksman, had recently bought the Nick Lewis School of Shooting.
The police are trying to find Mrs. Lucy Benson who is missing.
Detective Tom Lepski told our reporter: “Benson was a nice guy. I meet his wife; she was nice too."
The End