He studied her, then nodded his approval. He reached for his briefcase, opened it and took out an envelope.
“This,” he said and flicked the envelope on to the table. It skidded across and landed in her lap.
Her hands, still steady, took the envelope and lifted the flap. She drew out a glossy photographic print that was still a little damp. She studied it, keeping her expression under control although she felt as if ice water was running down her back.
In the photograph, she was lying on her bed, naked, and exposed, her hand on Larry’s trouser zip, while he appeared to be tearing off his jacket. In spite of her control, she felt the blood draining out of her face. She returned the print to the envelope and put the envelope on the table
“Thief, forger… and now blackmailer,” she said unsteadily. “At last, I’m getting to know you.”
He smiled: a thin smile, but a smile.
“I’ve already called myself all those names, Helga. I have now got beyond shame. I’m just not going to sink, and I have persuaded myself the end justifies any means. After all, you yourself are no saint, are you?”
“How did you get this photograph?”
“Do you really want to know?” He sank lower in his chair. “It was a long term operation and a technical achievement. A week ago I went to the villa… you remember I have a key… and I concealed a camera in one of the window recesses. The camera was focused on the bed. I had an electrician with me. He worked on the sun lamp switch by the bed. Larry had only to touch the switch to set off the camera shutter, the flash light and trip the fuses. It was quite a performance.”
She drew in a long, slow breath, trying to control her rising fury.
“You mean you hired an electrician to make this blackmail trap?”
He lifted his hands.
“My dear girl, you don’t imagine I’m clever enough to do a job like that? But don’t worry. He was very well paid. He just thought I was eccentric… you know the Swiss.”
“And you got someone to process the photograph?”
“Now, come, Helga, I’m not stupid. I hired a dark room of a local photographic store. I did the processing myself. I’m rather good with a camera.”
She sat for a long moment absorbing what he had told her, then she said, “And Larry?”
“He’s quite a character, isn’t he?” Archer drew on his cigar and stared up at the ceiling. “I knew for certain I would have trouble with you. When the money went down the drain, I knew I had to find a means of controlling your first impulse to rush to Herman and tell him what had happened. I also knew Herman would prosecute. Everyone has a weakness that can be exploited in one way or another. We have known each other now for some ten years. I know your weakness.” He looked at her. “You have been married to an impotent cripple for four years… a little more. You will inherit sixty million dollars so long as you behave yourself but I was certain you weren’t living like a nun. I decided to bait a hook for you. Frankly, Helga, with any other woman I wouldn’t have attempted it: the trouble, the money spent, the rushing here and there would have been too long odds, but with you, I felt it was worth a try. I knew you were arriving in Hamburg to pick up the car. Two days before you arrived I flew to Hamburg and began to look around. I wanted to find a virile, presentable young man without scruples. Not an impossible task in Hamburg where the dregs of the world come together. I found Larry. In the Reeperbahn, if you look hard enough, you are certain to find someone to do anything no matter how disreputable so long as the money is right.” He paused, then went on. “Larry was trying to persuade a young whore to take him home for nothing. She slapped his face and spat at him. I followed him into the street and we got talking. He asked me for money. He has beguiling warmth, hasn’t he? I am a man and you are a woman. I saw through this hick act of his whereas you fell for it as I was sun would. I told him I had a job for him. We went to a bar and I told him I wanted him to seduce an attractive woman so I could blackmail her. I offered him one thousand dollars to do the job. I felt quite safe telling him this. I was unknown to him: a man who had picked him up in the street. If he refused, then I could walk out and leave him, but, of course, he didn’t refuse.” He leaned forward to tap his ash into the ashtray. “I wasn’t sure where you would stay the night in Hamburg, but I knew you were seeing Schultz on business in Bonn and I knew where you always stayed there. I hired a car and drove Larry to Bonn. The more I talked with him, the more I was convinced that you would fall for him; but I wasn’t absolutely certain, and I had to be certain. So as a second line of attack, I dreamed up this passport gimmick. In any case, Larry had to have a new passport. He had deserted from the Army and had got mixed up in some riot. The German police and the U.S. Army police were hunting for him. I felt, if played on your generosity, you would fix him up. It was all a gamble, of course, but I knew you well enough to make the odds acceptable. Before I left Bonn I bugged your car. There is a new electronic eavesdropper on the market now that is fantastically efficient. The bug is the size of a thimble and has an impressive range. I then pointed you out to Larry as you arrived at the Konigshof hotel. Once I knew Larry had made contact with you and when he told me you wanted to take him to Switzerland, I knew you had swallowed the bait. It remained to be seen if the hook caught hold. I knew your hour of departure and I went on ahead. I was about a half a kilometre ahead of you all the time and I overheard your conversation. I speeded up and called on Friedlander who Larry had told me about. It was easy to bribe him. He promised that his assistant would take photographs of you and Larry when you arrived at his apartment. I have a good photograph of you passing Friedlander three thousand francs. Herman might well ask you why you paid such a sum unless the boy involved, was your lover. Not a strong card, but something. I really pinned my hopes on you taking Larry to the villa. I was driving ahead of you when you left Basle and I heard you telling Larry you wanted him to see your home. I knew my gamble had come off.” He smiled. “Larry nearly broke my ear drums with his whoop of triumph. He had assured me you would take him to your home and I had betted him another five hundred dollars he wouldn’t pull it off.”
Helga stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. She remembered Larry’s exuberant cry: “Boy! Am I lucky! Boy! Boy! Boy!” She remembered she had wondered about that: so this was the explanation.
“Of course it was still a gamble,” Archer went on. “You could have raped him in the sitting-room, but I know your style. When there is a bed handy, you use a bed. Anyway, I have a photograph and so we are partners.”
“You certainly value your skin, don’t you?” she said.
“I told you: I’m not the sinking type. Well, Helga, you now know the situation. Are you running to Herman?”
“I get nothing in return?”
“If you mean you don’t get the negatives… you don’t. But you can forget them. They’ll be completely safe. After all, Helga, if you fall, I fall too: we’re partners for as long as Herman lives.”
“Where are the negatives?”
He smiled.
“Winging their way safely to my bank in an envelope marked to be opened only in the event of my death. You are a dangerous woman, Helga. I’m taking no chances. I don’t say you would try to murder me, but I don’t want you to have the slightest temptation to do so. I must admit you nearly gave me a heart attack when you let off that gun.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So it was you I heard?”
“That’s right. While you were hunting for Larry I was getting the camera. You very nearly caught me at it. Incidentally, you had better get an electrician to re-fix the sun ray lamp if you intend to use it.”
“So the negatives will be lodged in your bank,” Helga said. “The envelope is to be opened in the event of your death. If you die what do you imagine the manager of the bank will do when he sees the contents?” She was probing for information and she regarded him with a contemptuous smile. “He will destroy the photographs.”
“No, he won’t. When he opens the
envelope he will find inside another sealed envelope with instructions to send this envelope to Herman. I don’t trust you, Helga. I repeat you are a dangerous woman.”
“You’re not being fair to me, are you? You live too well. You have become fat and soft. You could drop dead: men of your age are continually dropping dead through overindulgence. You fly a lot in these little planes. They are not oversafe. You could he killed in a crash. You could have a motoring accident. You could cease to live any time from tonight. You are striking a hard bargain.”
“Put like that I suppose I am, but I would rather be safe than murdered, Helga. You must hope that I keep alive.” He looked at his watch. “I have a busy day tomorrow. It’s my bedtime. Will you please initial the stock list?”
“When are you leaving?”
“Sometime tomorrow afternoon… why the interest?”
“I want to think about all this,” she said and got to her feet “I’ll give you my decision at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
He sat upright and his heavy face became set. For the first time since she had known him she saw him without his smooth charm.
“Decision?” There was a harsh note in his voice she had never heard before. “What do you mean? You have no choice! I have you where I want you! Initial those pages at once!”
Her lips moved into a stiff smile.
“I agree, Jack… you have me where you want me, but I too have you where I want you. I am facing the loss of sixty million dollars: you are facing at least ten years in a Swiss prison. From what I hear the Establissement de l’Orbe isn’t a convalescent home.”
His eyes turned vicious.
“You are in no position to threaten me! I know what money means to you! Now, cut this out! Initial those pages!”
She shook her head.
“I have a decision to make. I have to convince myself that all that money is worth being landed with a partner who is a thief, a forger and a blackmailer. I’m not convinced. If I give up sixty million dollars, I will still have my freedom, but you won’t. You’ll be in jail… and God! how you will hate that.” She picked up the stock list. “I’ll let you know my decision at three o’clock tomorrow. Give me a telephone call at the villa,” and she went out of the room.
Back in her bedroom, Helga walked over to the window and drew back the drapes. She stood for several minutes looking at the lights of Cassarate, the red sign that spelt out B-R-E, the outline of the mountain and the headlights of the cars coming down from Castagnoia. Snow was beginning to fall: something unusual in Lugano. The lake, glittering in the moonlight, looked like a black mirror.
She was surprised at her calmness and how evenly her heart was beating. She had absorbed the shock. She had been manoeuvred into a trap, and now, she had to consider what she was to do.
Turning away from the window, she undressed and put on pale blue pyjamas. With a pack of cigarettes and her lighter in her hand, she got into bed. She settled herself, turned on the reading light and the room lights off. She lit a cigarette, then relaxed. It was in bed with a cigarette that she always did her best thinking.
First, she asked herself how important was it to her to remain the wife of one of the richest men in the world? To make a comparison, she thought back and considered how she had lived while acting as her father’s personal assistant and then later, as Archer’s. She had earned reasonable money; she had had a lot of fun, freedom and sex. Against this, she had lived in a tiny, rather dreary apartment She had always had snatched meals and no car of her own. She liked clothes but could never afford the clothes she wanted. When on vacation she had to stay at the less grand hotels and she remembered envying those who could afford the best hotels. She had to queue for a cinema or a theatre seat, not being able to afford the best seats. She ate at a good restaurant only when dated. She never had any jewellery until she married and she liked top class jewellery: especially diamonds. She didn’t know until she married the joys of skiing, of tearing through the water in her own high speed motorboat nor owning a Mercedes 300SEL. She thought of her various homes and the servants who gave her constant attention. She thought of the flattering V.I.P. treatment she received at the airports, hotels and luxury restaurants of the world as soon as the name of Rolfe was mentioned.
She finally came to the conclusion that she must cling to her position even if it meant accepting Archer as a partner.
But did she have to accept him?
I would rather be safe than murdered, he had said.
She shook her head.
No! This was stupid and untidy thinking. She knew she could never take a life: even the life of a creature like Archer.
So what was the solution… if any?
She thought about this for some time. For her, she finally decided, the ideal solution would be if her husband dropped dead. Men of his age - he must be nearly seventy - were always dropping dead. What a marvellous and fantastic solution to her problem it would be if the telephone bell rang at this moment and Hinkle broke the news to her that Herman had suffered a heart attack. By dying, Herman would free her from this blackmail threat. She would automatically inherit the estate: no doubt, he would leave his daughter something, but if he didn’t, she could afford to be generous with all that money. But that wasn’t the real magic of Herman’s death. The magic of his death would mean she would have Archer in her power as he now had her in his power. She imagined letting him wait until three o’clock the following day, then she would ask him to come to the villa. “Something I want to discuss with you, Jack,” she would say. “No, not over an open line. Besides, you want the stock sheets, don’t you?” He would come, cautiously perhaps, but triumphant, knowing she had surrendered. She would play with him as a cat plays with a mouse until it would dawn on him he was not going to get the stock list. Then she would listen to his threats and bluster and she would laugh at him.
She paused in her thinking, her eyes narrowing.
I would rather be safe than murdered.
Archer had said that and Archer was also dangerous.
No, before she had her showdown with him, she would have to alert Spencer, Grove amp; Manly. She had already met Edwin Grove, a tall, dried up looking man at a cocktail party in Lausanne. She would telephone him before Archer arrived, telling him the facts and asking him to take all the necessary action; that Archer would be at her villa in two or three hours, and would he alert the police?
Then when she had finished her tongue-lashing, the police would arrive and take him away.
All this… but only if Herman dropped dead.
She stubbed out her cigarette and stared up at the ceiling. She knew instinctively that Herman was going to live for at least another ten years. He had a daily visit from his doctor. He took the greatest care of himself. She remembered the doctor telling her that Herman had a heart of a young man.
She moved restlessly under the sheet.
Dreams!
She forced her mind to become realistic. She was trapped and she might as well admit it. At any rate she would make that fat swine sweat until three o’clock tomorrow, then she would tell him to come to the villa and she would hand him the initialled stock list.
She had been asking for trouble these past four years and now it had arrived. Accept the inevitable, the Dean of the School of Law had once said in one of his dry lectures.
She would have to do that, but that wouldn’t stop her hating Archer and hoping something horrible would happen to him… but he mustn’t the.
She reached for her sleeping pills, took three of them, swallowing them 97
without water with practised ease, then with a little shiver of self-disgust, she1 reached up and turned off the light.
At 10.00 the following morning, Helga telephoned down to the concierge’s desk.
“Is Mr. Archer still in the hotel?”
“No, madame: he left about twenty minutes ago.”
“Thank you… it’s not important.”
She felt sure Archer would hav
e gone out by now, but she wanted to check. She couldn’t have borne running into him in the lobby to see his smirking, fat face and his questioning eyes.
She slipped on her mink coat, glanced in the mirror, adjusted her hat, then picking up the briefcase holding the stock list, she left her suite.
She had the stock lists for the previous month at the villa and she wanted to check the prices against the prices Archer had given her. She wanted to be certain just how much money he had stolen. He had said glibly two million dollars, but she wanted to know the exact sum.
The doorman opened her car door with a flourish. She nodded to him, started the engine, then joined the traffic crawl along the lake.
Drugged by the pills, she had slept heavily and she still felt heavy headed and irritable. The day after tomorrow, she thought, she would have to drive to Agno to meet Herman’s plane. She wondered in what mood she would find him. Usually, after a plane trip, he was testy and difficult. She would have to get something out of the deep freeze ready for Hinkle to cook. Herman was faddy about his food. One of his favourite dishes was breaded veal with spaghetti: this Helga never ate. She had the middle-aged woman’s horror of getting fat. There would be filets of veal in the freezer. She would get them out tomorrow.
She stopped at the Migros store at Cassarate and bought onions, a tin of peeled tomatoes and a tin of tomato puree. She knew there would be packets of spaghetti in the store cupboard. She bought a dozen eggs and a litre of milk. Hinkle was a genius at making an omelette which she could always eat. She paused for a moment thinking, but could think of nothing else to buy. With her purchases in a paper bag, she got into the car and drove up the twisting road to Castagnola. She stopped at the Post Office and collected some dozen letters. The girl behind the counter gave her a friendly smile.
“Will you be staying long, madame?”
“Till the end of the month. Please have the letters delivered tomorrow.”
She drove up to the villa. The snow plough had been at work and the road was clear but there were high banks of snow either side of the road and once when she pressed too hard on the gas pedal, the back wheels of the car slipped, a slip she quickly corrected. The private drive to the villa had also been cleared and the roadman had put down grit. The fifty francs she gave him each February was an investment that produced dividends when snow and ice made the drive difficult.
An Ace up my Sleeve Page 9
