Bargain with Death

by Hugh Pentecost

  “What can he do? All he has to do is blink his eyes and Treadway will mow us down. He doesn’t make idle threats.”

  “I’ve seen Pierre up against insoluble problems many times,” she said. “I’ve come to believe that he always comes up with an answer.”

  I gave her a sickly grin. “There has to be a first time for everything,” I said.

  She handed me the rolled-up floor plans and reminded me there was also the suitcase to take. Olin and Clarke joined us where we stood.

  “I’m sorry, Mark,” Clarke said. “I would have been glad to go. I think I wanted to go—to be with Valerie.”

  Olin’s green glasses glittered at me. “You are a prize sucker, friend,” he said. “You’re dreaming there may be some way to get him before the exodus starts, aren’t you?”

  “You have to dream, I guess,” I said.

  “I always look for an edge when it comes to a showdown,” he said. “Some very small thing sometimes gives you a crucial edge. I’ve been trying to think of something that would help you. I have a book on Treadway—in my head. Your only chance is just about hopeless.”

  “What’s my only chance?”

  “What you’ve been thinking,” Olin said. “To catch him off guard, close with him, and fight it out. Are you any good?”

  “I was a Marine commando—a long time ago,” I said.

  “Treadway eats Marine commandos for breakfast,” Olin said. “He knows all the tricks, all the dirty tricks. He’s a karate expert. He fights to kill, friend, not just to protect himself. I can only think of one edge for you. It’s not enough, but it’s all I know to tell you. He searched you when you went in, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you can’t carry in a knife or a gun. He’ll search you again.”

  “And the edge you mentioned?”

  “It’s really nothing. It’s hardly worth mentioning,” Olin said. “For what it’s worth, he’s left-handed. If he swings at you, it will be with his left. He will reach for a gun with his left hand. If you know karate moves, his will be the opposite of normal. It isn’t much of an edge, friend, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  Ruysdale was holding out the suitcase to me. It was time to go. “Watch for the smallest thing,” she said. “Pierre will try something.”

  “Good luck,” Clarke said.

  God knows I wanted to stall, but there was no point. I had a date with a killer and I had to keep it.

  4

  CARRYING THE SUITCASE AND the rolled-up floor plans, I walked down to the lobby once more. Things had really quieted down. I flagged Mike Maggio and once more he got the operator off the roof car for me, and I started my trip up, alone and about as scared as I’ve ever been in my life. I learned something in the Marines about being scared. I thought I was the only one at first and I was ashamed of it. After a while I found out that the few who weren’t scared were the dumdums of the outfit. Any man with any imagination at all is scared when the danger is real. The ones who don’t run away are the brave guys. The dumdums aren’t brave, they’re just stupid.

  Drowning men, they say, see their whole lives go by them as they’re going down for the last time. I was seeing a lot of mine—going up!

  I arrived at the penthouse level much sooner than I wanted to. I got out of the elevator and stood looking at the indicator, watching the car go down. I never felt so goddamned alone in my whole life.

  I turned and faced the door to the penthouse. I thought of ringing the bell, and then I decided Treadway would expect me to use the key again. I fumbled for it in my pocket, inserted it in the lock, and let myself in.

  “Treadway! It’s me,” I called out.

  “Who else? Come in, Haskell.”

  Valerie was still sitting on the couch and I saw that there was a drink on the coffee table in front of her. Treadway was standing at the stretcher table that backed up on the couch. His machine pistol was resting on the table, right by his left hand, I saw.

  “Put down your luggage, Haskell,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’d have been foolish enough to arm yourself, but turn around so I can make sure.”

  I put down the suitcase and turned around. He came up behind me, soundless on the thick rug, and went over me once more with his rough hands.

  “All right, you can turn around,” he said. He’d taken the suitcase, I saw, and had it in front of him on the table. He opened it and threw up the lid. “What a magnificent sight. Have you ever seen half a million dollars in cold cash, Haskell?”

  I hadn’t. I didn’t much care. I was looking at Valerie, hoping she might see something reassuring in me. I thought the tension had brought her very near some kind of breaking point.

  “Chambrun and the police have agreed,” I told her. “There won’t be any trouble.” I hoped it hadn’t occurred to her that Treadway meant to kill her anyway, once they were out of the hotel.

  “You shouldn’t have come back for me, Mark,” she said, her voice husky. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

  “Let’s get down to business,” Treadway said, closing the suitcase. “I take it that roll you’re carrying is a floor plan.”

  “Yes. Chambrun has suggested three ways out. You can follow them on the plan if you want.”

  “Toss it over,” he said.

  It clearly wasn’t his intention to let me get very close to him. I tossed the roll of floor plans over the end of the couch. He caught them, with his left hand, I noticed. He spread them out on the table.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  I started to walk toward him with the idea of pointing the routes out to him on the plans—and getting close to him.

  “Tell me from where you are,” he said, smiling at me.

  The sonofabitch knew. He knew what I had in mind and he was laughing at me.

  I described the first way: the elevator outside the door here to the subbasement. A walk along the corridor to the garbage lifts. Up onto the sidewalk. You’ve seen those garbage elevators outside big city buildings. There are iron doors at the sidewalk level and the elevator lifts them up as it surfaces. I told him about the two other ways, both of which required walking along a corridor on the thirtieth floor to the freight elevator.

  “The freight elevator doesn’t come up to the roof?” he asked.

  “No. But the corridor on thirty will have been cleared.”

  I went on to describe the mezzanine fire stair out, and the ballroom side exit out. “These are the only ways that won’t involve a lot of people.” I hesitated. “The number one way seems the best to all of us. You take the elevator right outside the door here. It takes you right to the subbasement with no stops—no chance of anyone accidentally walking into the picture. The one or two employees on the engineering staff who might be in that subbasement will have been removed. I lead you to the garbage elevator and you’re up on the street in thirty seconds. You can see on those plans where the garbage lift comes up on the street. You can have your car waiting there. A few feet across the sidewalk and you have it made.”

  He looked down at the plan, tracing the course with his finger. Then he looked up at me and smiled his brightest smile.

  “It looks perfect,” he said. “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You want me to choose it,” he said.

  I’d done it. I’d been too eager to point out the advantages.

  “It appears to me that there would be all kinds of places in that subbasement for Chambrun and the police to hide people. No, Haskell, you’ll have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to get me to walk into such a transparent trap.”

  I had the sick feeling that if I hadn’t said anything, he might have fallen for it.

  “I think I like the way down to the mezzanine on the freight elevator and then down the fire stairs to the street,” Treadway said.

  I didn’t tell him that would have been Chambrun’s choice. The safest way, the surest way.

  Treadway l
aughed. “I read you like a child’s primer, Haskell. That’s the way you hoped I wouldn’t choose, therefore the best way. So let’s get into motion. First, you call your people on the house phone and tell them the choice I’ve made. I will call Carlson on the private line and tell him where to send the car.” He gestured toward the house phone which was on a small table just to my right. “I think we need half an hour to be sure of the car.” He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes past two. Tell your people we will walk out of here at exactly ten minutes to three.”

  He watched me go to the house phone, and the minute I picked it up, he began dialing a number on the private phone which rested right beside him on the stretcher table. I heard him ask for Carlson, and then Miss Ruysdale was on my line and I didn’t hear the rest of what he said.

  “It’s Mark,” I said. “The man has made his choice. Freight elevator to the mezzanine and then the fire stairs.”

  “Chambrun thought he would,” she said.

  “We walk out of here at exactly ten minutes to three.”

  “You’re all right, Mark?”

  “So far.”

  “Mrs. Brent?”

  “So far.”

  “Is he listening?”

  “No, he’s on the private line.”

  “Don’t try anything, Mark. Leave it to Chambrun.”

  I heard myself give out with an inane giggle. “You’re just a woman in love,” I said.

  “Which means complete trust,” she said quite seriously. “Don’t try anything at all until there’s absolutely no chance of help.”

  “Too bad I didn’t bring my needlepoint with me,” I said. “It would have helped pass the time. Remember, we move in—twenty-eight minutes.”

  I put down the phone and found Treadway watching me. “Cooperation?” he asked.

  “Do they have a choice?” I asked.

  “Not if they care for your precious skins,” he said. “Care for some whiskey? It may be a long time between drinks.” He gestured toward the portable bar.

  I wanted a drink quite badly. I looked at Valerie’s empty glass. “For you?” I asked.

  “Scotch on the rocks,” she said.

  I took her glass and went over to the little bar. While I fumbled around with ice cubes, bottles, and glasses I thought about Ruysdale’s advice. It was obvious that Treadway knew exactly what was on my mind. He wasn’t going to let me get close enough to him to make any sudden move. Perhaps in the elevators, or in the narrow confines of the fire stairs—

  He never took his eyes off me as I carried Valerie’s glass back to the coffee table. He was not a man who would let down his guard for a moment. I took a swallow of the bourbon I’d poured myself.

  “Let’s talk about what happens when the time comes,” Treadway said.

  “Which time? The time when we leave or the time when you kill us?” When it looks like you can’t win, you get a little reckless.

  “Now, now, Mr. Haskell, don’t be bitter,” he said, smiling. “First let’s talk about the time when we leave. We’ll go out of here in single file to the elevator. You will go first, Haskell, carrying all that green money. Mrs. Brent will follow you. I will be directly behind her with my gun pressed against the back of her head firmly enough so that she’ll be quite aware of it. You will ring for the elevator, Haskell. When the door opens, you will walk into the far left-hand corner, as you face it. Clear?”

  “Quite clear,” I said, and took another swallow of my drink. Dutch courage, my father used to call it.

  “Mrs. Brent will walk right back into the center of the car. I will deploy to her right. Then we will all face the door. We go down one flight to the thirtieth floor. The door opens, you go out first, Haskell. We follow in the same order. You lead us directly to the freight elevator which I trust will be there, ready for us. I loathe waiting.”

  “It’ll be there,” I said.

  “We go into the freight elevator in the same fashion, you to the left, Mrs. Brent between us in the center. Same procedure on the way out at the mezzanine. You lead us to the fire stairs and out onto the street, where the car will be waiting.”

  “And then?” I asked.

  His smile widened. “If all has gone well, Mrs. Brent and I will get into the car and wave goodbye. You will, of course, open the car door for us. I want you close enough to deal with you in case there is any last-minute betrayal.”

  “What happens to Mrs. Brent then?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see, old man.” He glanced at his watch. “A little less than twenty minutes. If you two would like a few intimate words together, I have no objection. I don’t drink when I’m working, so I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee. Bear in mind that, with the door open, I can see you quite clearly from the kitchenette. I once shot a man right between the eyes from a window across the street. The range here is laughably shorter.”

  He picked up his machine pistol and walked straight back into the kitchenette. I know I thought of grabbing Valerie and trying to race out of there while he reached for a jar of instant coffee in the cupboard. At the same moment I knew how hopeless it was. The elevator wouldn’t be waiting there, and there’d be no place to go except out onto the roof. We’d be sitting ducks for him out there. This wasn’t the moment for heroics.

  “I can’t think of anything to say to you, Val, except cliches—like where there’s life there’s hope.”

  “Poor Mark,” she said. “Dear Mark.”

  “How did he get hold of you?”

  “He came to my room, knocked on the door. I thought it was you—I hoped it was you. I opened the door and he whisked me up here.”

  “Do you know who he’s working for?”

  She shook her head. “Long, long ago—like last night at dinner—Emory pointed him out to me. A very dangerous man who works for Middle East power groups. He wondered if he might have had something to do with J.W.’s death and the theft of Mr. Gamayel’s documents. Emory said he was a professional killer.”

  “He is,” I said.

  She looked at me, her lips parted. “We don’t have any chance, do we, Mark? He’ll use us and then do away with us?”

  “I think that’s his plan. It just may not work.”

  “What’s to stop him?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “I believe in miracles,” I said. “I have a friend who can sometimes walk on water.”

  “Mr. Chambrun?”

  “He’s been known to do the impossible.”

  She was silent for a moment, looking down at the drink she was holding in her hand. “I don’t think you can imagine what it’s like to live under the threat of violence every day of your life,” she said finally. “It’s been that way with me ever since the day Michael was murdered, two years ago. The police bungled it. I was determined to find the killer myself. I knew they wouldn’t do anything to me unless I came on the truth. I’d made so much noise about J.W. that if anything happened to me the police would head directly to him. But I knew if I stumbled on the truth they’d have to act. The man Olin, who works for J.W., is just as cold-blooded as this one. Can you understand, Mark, that I have been prepared to die every day of my life for the last two years? Now that it’s here, I’m ready to face it. But it shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “Olin was watching you,” I said. “He was watching you when you bought those things at Charlene’s Boutique. He says you never went into the park, that no one stole them from you.”

  “He lies, of course,” she said. “J.W. was flattered when I changed my attitude toward him. He was flattered and he felt safe from me. Olin never believed my act. He knew exactly what I was trying to do. He’d like to get me, even now. Well, he isn’t going to have to try.”

  There wasn’t time for any more. Treadway came out of the kitchenette balancing a coffee cup in his right hand, holding his gun in his left. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, that I was prepared to go the limit for her—and would make a try, once, before it
was too late. Somewhere between here and the escape car I would try. What did I have to lose? Treadway gave me the feeling he was looking forward to the moment when he’d wipe me out.

  “About six minutes to go,” he said cheerfully. “Do we need to go over the game plan again?”

  I could feel my stomach muscles tightening. I told myself I was going to have to stay loose if I was to give it any kind of a try. My mouth was dry, and I swallowed the last of my drink. It seemed to burn, unnaturally, going down.

  Treadway put down his coffee cup on the stretcher table. He played with his machine pistol, as if to get it comfortable. He stood looking at his watch, like an officer waiting to give the command to attack.

  “Here we go,” he said at last. “You pick up the bag and face the front door, Mr. Haskell.”

  He was halfway across the room. If I was ever to have a chance, it was going to come in close quarters. I should have made it clear to Valerie that when I made a move, she should run for it. I might keep him busy for just long enough. So it couldn’t be in the elevators. The corridors, the fire stairs, or even out on the sidewalk. It would have to come in one of those places.

  I picked up the suitcase, marveling at how light a half million dollars felt. I faced the door.

  “Now, Mrs. Brent,” I heard Treadway say. Then: “Mrs. Brent is right behind you, Haskell, and I have my gun pressed against the back of her head. So march.”

  I didn’t look back. I didn’t doubt it was just as he said it was. I moved forward to the front door and went out into the foyer.

  “Press the elevator button,” Treadway said, “and pray to God they’ve left this car on automatic for us.”

  I looked up at the indicator. The car was starting up from the lobby. Floor after floor it came up, the indicator making a little clicking noise as it passed each level. I used to be impatient, waiting for that rise. Now it seemed to be happening all too quickly.

  The elevator door opened.

  “Into the left-hand corner, facing the rear wall, Haskell,” Treadway said.

  I went in and stood where I was told. I heard the door close.