The Tainted Trust

by Stephen Douglass

  Mike was awakened at four A.M., Toronto time, by the relentless jangle of the rural telephone near his bed.

  “I have a collect call for Mike King from Kerri Pyper in Monaco. Will you accept the charges?” the operator asked.

  “Yes,” Mike said, jerking himself upward in his four poster bed.

  “Dad, I’m sorry to call at this time. It’s the first chance I’ve had.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine… How are you?”

  “Still free and running from the law. I’ve got all the comforts of home here, but no people. I’m starting to talk to myself. I’m getting more fresh air and exercise than I’ve had in years. I must have canoed at least a hundred miles since I’ve been here, I’m sick of reading the same old magazines for the zillionth time, and I’m lonely as hell.

  “How’s Phillip?”

  Mike closed his eyes. “… He’s disappeared. No one’s seen him since late last week. The police found his van on Friday. It was abandoned on the side of a dirt road… It doesn’t look good, Kerri.”

  Kerri was saddened and angered by the news. “It was Louis. I’m going to get him, dad. I don’t care how long it takes, or what I have to do, I’m going to do it.”

  “He’s a dangerous man, Kerri. I think you should come home before you get hurt,or worse.”

  “No way. I don’t care how dangerous he is. It’s our last chance to stop that bastard. I’m not going to let it go.”

  “If anything happened to you, I…”

  “Please don’t say it, Dad. Just understand that I can’t quit now.”

  “Then be careful. Don’t let your emotions take control. Think through every move you make. If you reach a point where you think the risk is too great, run. At least you’ll still be alive.”

  “I stole Louis’s briefcase.”

  Thrilled to have heard the first shred of good news in a very long time, Mike’s heart rate quickened. “Good girl! What was in it?”

  “I don’t know yet. It was locked and I’m not sure how to open it. I put it in a safety deposit box in a bank not far from here.”

  “Does he know it’s gone?”

  “Yes. I trashed the suite to make it look like a robbery.”

  “I’d love to have seen his face. Does he believe it was a robbery?”

  “I think so. He was really upset. He said he had his life support system in it. Now he’s trying to put it all back together. He had to go all the way to Geneva, just to identify himself. He said he’ll be back in twenty-four hours. That gives me time to open his briefcase.”

  “Good. Tell me about the briefcase. Are there three dials under the handle?”

  “Yes. I think they’re brass.”

  “Then here’s what I want you to do. Buy an electric drill and a quarter inch bit. Ask for one with a cobalt tip. It’ll cut through metal like a knife through butter. Make sure you pay cash. Stand the briefcase upright on a hard floor and drill straight down through the dials. If that doesn’t work, turn the briefcase over and drill through the hinges. When you get the briefcase open, write down a description of everything you find inside, then put everything back in the safety deposit box, including the drill, the bit, the wrappings, and the briefcase. Call me and let me know what you found.”

  “I will. I love you, dad.”

  “Love you too.”

  CHAPTER 95

  Kerri stood Visconti’s briefcase upright on the white tiled floor of the suite’s bathroom. She unpacked the Black & Decker electric drill she had purchased, fastened the cobalt bit in the chuck, then connected the device to an electrical outlet. She descended to her knees and began to drill straight down through the center dial. She had almost finished her third hole when the briefcase opened with a loud snap.

  “You should have let me open it for you,” Visconti said.

  Adrenaline shot through Kerri’s body like an electric shock.

  He stood in the doorway, his eyes piercing. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m not on my way to Geneva,” he said, then approached her and closed the briefcase. “I wasn’t completely satisfied with your answers when I showed you that photograph. I wasn’t sure. It might have been the way you spoke, the color of your face or the fact that you owned a photograph of Mike King. So, while you were in the bedroom cleaning up the mess you created to make this little scam look like a robbery, I decided to verify your story. I pulled your wallet out of your bag and found something very interesting.” He reached into the pocket of his shirt and removed Kerri’s birth certificate. “I’m confused. Maybe you can explain to me why Kerri Larkin is carrying Kerri King’s birth certificate.”

  Kerri’s charade had ended. She knew it was pointless to say anything. All she could think of was how she could escape from the incredible nightmare into which she had maneuvered herself.

  “You’re King’s daughter,” he said with a cold penetrating stare. “Aren’t you?” he shouted, slapping her face as hard as he could, the force of the blow knocking her sideways to the floor.

  “Yes,” she sobbed as she covered her face with her hands.

  “I underestimated him. All these years I was never quite sure if he trusted me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would stoop so low as to ask his own daughter to share my bed with me.” His evil smile was replaced by a pained expression. “How could you do this to me, Kerri? We had it made. For the first time in my life I was actually in love.”

  Kerri refused to speak.

  “I asked you a question!” Visconti shouted. “Answer me!” he screamed.

  Kerri glared at him defiantly, blood oozing from her mouth. “You’re a sick, pathetic excuse for a human being. Jackie Crawford was right about you. You’re incapable of loving anything but money.”

  “I’ll show you how to love!” he snarled. He grasped her hair with his right hand and jerked her head upward, then smirked. “Let’s do it one last time, just for the record.” He pulled her head toward his and kissed her savagely. “Let’s do it right here on the floor. I’ll show you what’s in the briefcase when we’re finished. Then you can go for a nice long swim, just like Phillip did.” He ripped off her T-shirt and reached for the top of her her jeans. He stopped when he heard a knock on the door to the suite, then stood and hurried to the living room. “Who is it?” he shouted.

  Another knock.

  “Who the hell’s there?”

  Again no answer.

  “What the fuck is this?” Visconti muttered. He marched to the door of the suite and jerked it open. His mouth opened as he froze in shock at the sight of his visitor. “Jesus! What are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Louis. A pleasure to see you again,” Alfred Schnieder said with a golden smile. “It would be appreciated if you would invite me in.”

  Visconti attempted to close the door in Schnieder’s face.

  “Don’t, Louis,” Schnieder warned, pointing the muzzle of his Mauser Parabellum at Visconti. “This pistol is almost as old as I am but it is still extremely effective. It is quite capable of putting a bullet through both the door and you. It was given to me in Oberndorf when I was forced to fight for the Nazis. Using it to kill one more American would be no problem for me… Now, may I come in?”

  Visconti moved aside and allowed his visitor to enter.

  “You may close the door now, Louis. It will be a while before the police get here.”

  “You’ve called the police?” Visconti asked, reminded of the night he rescued Kerri and his ruse with Brian Pyper.

  “No, but soon I will be inviting them here to investigate your death.”

  Visconti raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alfred, you wouldn’t.”

  Schnieder nodded, the cold stare of his glazed hazel eyes confirming his resolve. “First I would like to tell you why I am going to kill you.” He pointed to the chairs near the glass doors leading to the balcony. “Let’s be seated. These old legs need rest.”

  Visconti focused on the muzzle of Schnieder’s gun as
he lowered himself into one of the two comfortable French provincial chairs, richly upholstered in light tan Corinthian leather. “Aren’t you forgetting we had a deal?” he asked, attempting to postpone his execution.

  “Please, no more insults to my intelligence. It is most rude. It is you who has forgotten, my friend. I once told Mike King I would trust you with my life. Now he is extremely displeased with both of us. He placed his trust in us, and we abused it. I am guilty of giving away his secret, and you are guilty of using it to steal his money.”

  “Forget the sentimental crap, Alfred. We’ve got the money now. Let’s enjoy it. King can go to hell.”

  “That is an inaccurate statement, Louis,” Schnieder said, shaking his head. “You have the money now, and clearly you had no intention of sharing it with me. Now I would appreciate if you would tell me where it is.”

  “In Switzerland,” Visconti disclosed. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  “Where in Switzerland?”

  “Go ahead and shoot me? Then you’ll never know where it is.”

  “That is precisely what I shall do. My primary purpose in coming here was to kill you. I had hoped I might also succeed in returning the money to the custody of Mike King and his wife, but if that is not to be, then there is nothing left to do but pull the trigger.” He lifted his gun and pointed it at Visconti’s head.

  Visconti held up both hands and jerked backward. “Alfred, wait! It’s in Geneva. It’s in a numbered account in the Banco Privata Svissera. The control and access numbers in my briefcase.”

  “Where is the briefcase?”

  “In the bathroom. I’ll get it for you.”

  “Lead the way. I would like to make sure you get only the briefcase.” Schnieder followed Visconti to the bathroom, but stopped at the door when he saw Kerri, leaning against the sink and washing blood from her mouth. “My goodness, Louis! What have we here?” he asked, frowning as he glanced at the briefcase, the drill and droplets of blood on the floor. “Is there no end to your treachery?” Schnieder gave Kerri a golden smile. “Please don’t be frightened by the gun, my dear. I intend only to use it on Louis.”

  “Give it to me,” Kerri demanded, glaring with passionate hatred at Visconti. “I’ll do it for you.”

  Gesturing with his hands, Visconti again attempted to delay his execution. “Alfred, this is Kerri… Kerri, this is Alfred Schnieder.”

  Schnieder shook his head. “It would be a pleasure to watch you kill him, my dear, but it is one that I have reserved for myself.” He turned to Visconti. “I see you have alienated her as well, Louis. It would seem you have no friends left in this world.” He pointed to the briefcase. “Give me the banking documents, Louis. I would like to make certain they are in order before I kill you.”

  Visconti lifted the briefcase from the floor, pretended to try to open it, then looked up at Schnieder. “It won’t open. The dials are stuck.”

  “He’s lying !” Kerri shouted. “I just broke the lock with the drill!”

  Visconti held the briefcase in front of him while continuing to work at moving the shattered dials. He moved closer to Schneider. “I’m not fooling. They really are stuck. Try it yourself.”

  With cat quickness, he hurled the briefcase at Schnieder’s face, distracting him long enough to allow him to lunge and grasp Schnieder’s right wrist. He smashed the back of Schnieder’s hand against the door jamb repeatedly until his bleeding hand released its grip, allowing the pistol to fall to the tile floor with a loud clatter.

  Visconti picked it up and pointed it at Schnieder’s forehead. “Now you old fart, the pleasure is mine, but maybe this old Luger makes too much noise.” He lowered the gun and placed it in his pocket. “I think we’ll do it more quietly.” He placed his hands around Schnieder’s wrinkled neck and squeezed hard. Schnieder’s eyes bulged as Visconti’s thumbs dug into his Adam’s apple. He gasped for air and struggled vainly, his strength no match for Visconti’s. When the struggling stopped and Visconti was certain Schnieder was dead, he released his grip, allowing the lifeless body to slump to the floor.

  Kerri watched in horror as Visconti dragged the body toward the shower stall. She darted toward the doorway, but Visconti dropped the body and reached the doorway before her. He grabbed both of her arms and pulled her toward him. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. We’re going to finish what we started before that fat fart interrupted us.”

  Kerri realized she faced certain death. She fought ferociously, kicking, scratching and screaming until Visconti clenched his fist and hit her mouth as hard as he could. While she covered her face and moaned in pain, he dragged her to the point on the floor where he had begun to attack her, then pulled her down with him. He removed her jeans and panties, then unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper and lowered his pants. With a firm grip on both of her wrists, he pinned them to the floor on either side of her head, then separated her legs with both of his knees.

  She screamed at the excruciating pain of his entry. The warm saline taste of blood on her tongue nauseated her as she helplessly allowed her body to go limp. A loathing fury grew inside her as she watched him revel in his sadistic pleasure. She turned her head sideways in revulsion when he lowered his body to the point where his lips were within inches of hers. As he approached orgasm, he moved his body faster, thrusting harder and moaning with each stroke.

  Kerri slowly moved her right hand to the cord of the electric drill, then pulled it until she could reach the drill. She tightened her grip on the handle and waited until Visconti closed his eyes at the moment of his maximum pleasure. With all of her strength she rammed the cobalt tipped bit into the left side of his head and pulled the trigger. Visconti’s eyes and mouth popped open and his body rigidified as the bit ground deeply into his brain. Even though the spinning bit caused blood from the wound to splatter her face and hair, she continued to hold the trigger and press until the chuck hit Visconti’s outer skull, preventing further entry.

  When his body finally fell limp, she felt its full weight on hers. With almost supernatural strength, born of fright and revulsion, she managed to move from beneath him. She rolled onto her stomach, then tried to lift herself to her knees. Her vision blurred as she slumped to the floor, exhausted. Seconds later, she fell into unconsciousness.

  When Kerri’s eyes opened thirty minutes later, her pain reminded her of what had happened. She managed to crawl to the sink and hoist herself to a semi erect position. When she looked in the mirror, she was horrified by the sight of heavy bruising and dried blood on her face and hair. She washed off the blood with a warm washcloth, then glanced toward the shower stall through the mirror. The sight of Schnieder’s body induced a quick dismissal of her desire to shower. She gagged at the sight of Visconti’s bloodied head, the drill still lodged in its left temporal region. She shifted her focus to the briefcase, its contents strewn on the floor.

  Suppressing an overwhelming urge to run, she lowered herself to her knees and crawled to the briefcase and examined the contents. She found a hundred thousand dollars in cash, documents relating to a numbered account in the Banco Privata Svissera, the deeds to Visconti’s Manhattan apartment and his Connecticut estate, the corporate seal and share certificates of Forta Equitas, S.A., an itemized list of Visconti’s personal investments, and a copy of the agreement he had made with her before leaving for Europe.

  She forced herself to wash her finger prints from the drill, and to replace them with those of Visconti. She stuffed the cash, the banking documents and corporate seal and share certificates of Forta Equitas into her bag, then escaped from the bathroom. After dressing in clean clothing, she left the hotel, took a taxi to the Banque de Monte Carlo and returned the stolen items to her safety deposit box. As soon as she returned to the hotel, she called the police.

  CHAPTER 96

  Horst Ullman, the detective in charge of the investigation, subjected Kerri to an intense interrogation. A tall muscular Arian with deep blue eyes and close c
ropped blond hair, he spoke reasonably good English, accented with what Kerri thought was a German dialect. He stopped his questioning as soon as she told him of the rape. “You should be taken to the hospital immediately. Please don’t worry. Monaco’s medical facilities are among the finest in the world. As soon as I finish with my investigation here, I will join you at the hospital. There are a number of questions I would like you to answer.” He took her by the arm and led her to the door of the suite, then asked one of his assistants to take her to the Princess Grace Hospital Center.

  After a thorough examination, semen samples taken and facial cuts treated, Kerri was allowed to take a shower. She was invited to watch television in the doctors’ lounge while she waited for Ullman to join her.

  When Ullman arrived an hour and a half later, he led her to a private room to continue the interrogation. “May I call you Kerri?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I have found it necessary to quarantine your hotel suite pending further investigation. I assume you would prefer not to return to that suite in any event. We have made arrangements with the hotel to have you moved to a different suite. The transfer of all of your belongings not critical to the investigation will be completed by the time you return to the hotel. Of course we will provide you with a complete list of everything we confiscate.”

  “Thank you,” she said, attempting to smile.

  “Now I must ask you an extremely personal question. I am curious to know why Mister Visconti raped you. It seems a rather odd way to treat a woman who was living with him voluntarily.”

  “I really wasn’t living with him voluntarily,” she said, then proceeded to tell Ullman the entire story of her father, Alfred Schnieder, the trust, and finally, her relationship with Visconti. “Shortly after we arrived in Monte Carlo, Louis discovered that I’m Mike King’s daughter. It didn’t take him long to figure out that I was a serious threat to his retirement plans.”