You Can Say That Again

by James Hadley Chase

  I glued on my charming smile.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, madam. Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve been following all your movies, Mr. Stevens,’ she went on. ‘You have an outstanding talent.’

  Talent? I could hear Lu’s braying laugh.

  I looked directly at her and received a slight shock.

  This woman wasn’t the usual hotel lobby loner. There was steel in her dark blue eyes and her lips were paper-thin.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, not knowing what else to say.

  She peered at me, smiling.

  ‘I was about to have a late dinner. I wonder if you would join me?’ She paused, then went on, ‘Oh, Mr. Stevens, do be my guest! It would give me so much pleasure!’ Again a pause, then seeing I was floundering, she went on, ‘I would so much like to hear about your work, but perhaps you have already dined?’

  Dined? My last meal had been a greasy hamburger at midday. I was starving hungry.

  All the same, I hesitated. Some forty minutes had dragged by. Mr. Durant had had all the time in the world to hire me. This old woman was obviously loaded. Be my guest. I couldn’t resist such an invitation. The thought of a big, juicy steak and a mass of french fries brought saliva to my mouth.

  ‘Why, that would be nice. Thank you.’

  She patted her hands together.

  ‘I am so pleased! I didn’t think . . .’ She smiled. ‘Let’s go then. I adore Westerns. I am sure you can tell me how they are made. There must be so many interesting tricks.’ She began to move to the exit. I was surprised. I had imagined we would eat in the hotel restaurant, but as she kept moving, I followed her.

  Out on the steps, the doorman lifted his cap and bowed to her, then he whistled. Almost immediately, a dark blue Silver Cloud Rolls Royce appeared out of the darkness. A Japanese, in a grey uniform, wearing a peak cap, had the door open.

  ‘There is a nice little restaurant,’ she said, pausing. ‘You must know it. The Benbow. Would it bore you to eat there?’

  The Benbow! I had never been there, but I knew of it. The best restaurant in the district! Even in my affluent days, I had never dared face their prices. Before I could say anything, she got into the car. A little dazed, but with the black cloud of depression now dispersed, I sat in luxury at her side.

  The chauffeur slid into the driving seat and edged the car into the traffic.

  ‘Madam,’ I said, smiling in her direction. ‘I failed to get your name.’

  ‘How stupid of me.’ She put her hand on my arm.

  The poodle she was nursing shifted off her lap and onto my knees. The little beast began to lick my face. If there is one thing that drives me out of my mind it is to be licked by a dog. I shoved him away with some violence, and as I did so, I felt a sharp prick in my thigh.

  The dog, yelping, fell to the floor. I started upright.

  ‘Madam!’ I exclaimed. ‘Your dog has bitten me!’

  ‘Dear Mr. Stevens. You must be mistaken. I am sure Cookie would never do anything like that. He is the most gentle little gentleman and he adores . . .

  The rest of what she was saying faded into darkness.

  * * *

  The room was large and comfortably furnished and lit by a number of shaded lamps. I found myself lying on a double bed. My head felt heavy and my mouth was dry. I made an effort and half sat up, staring around in bewilderment. Opposite the end of the bed was a big wall mirror. My reflection as I lay on the bed showed me I was not only bewildered, but not a little frightened.

  The luxury of the furnishing did something to reassure me. A lot of money had been spent making this room more than comfortable, and money always reassures me. Heavy window drapes were drawn shut.

  I looked at my watch. The time was 8.45. Was it morning or evening? How long had I been lying on this bed? It had been 23.00 when I had got into the Rolls. I thought of the prick in my thigh I had imagined had been a nip from the poodle. It dawned on me, with a feeling of panic, the little old woman had given me at shot of some quick acting drug.

  Good God! I thought. I’ve been kidnapped!

  I scrambled off the bed and crossed to the window drapes and dragged them back. A solid steel shutter covered the window. I shoved against it, but it was immovable. Turning, I looked around the room to a door. Even as I reached it, I saw there was no handle.

  The door was as immovable as the window shutter. I went into the bathroom: deluxe fitments, but no window. I peered into the wall cabinet. It contained two toothbrushes in cellophane wrapping, an electric shaver, a bottle of aftershave, a bath sponge also in cellophane wrapping and toilet soaps. I looked at myself in the shaving mirror. From the stubble on my face, I had only been drugged a few hours.

  I made use of the bathroom facilities while I tried to control my panic. It was a good move. After shaving and washing, I felt a lot better when I returned to the room. I also became aware I was hungry.

  Crossing to the bed, I saw a bell push by the shaded bedside lamp. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button. I kept my finger on it for several seconds before releasing it.

  Then I sat in a big lounging chair and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. The door without a handle slid aside and a man, pushing a trolley, entered. The door snapped shut behind him.

  This man was a giant. He was a good six inches taller than myself and I am six foot one. He had shoulders a weight lifter would envy and huge muscular hands. His head was completely shaved and his face was something out of a horror comic: thick nose, lipless mouth and small glittering eyes. Working in Westerns, I had come across a lot of rough-toughs, playing baddies, but off the set, they had been as gentle as kittens: but not this man: he would be as unpredictable as a gorilla and as dangerous as a wounded tiger.

  He pushed the trolley into the center of the room, then looked at me. His savage little eyes chilled me. I began to say something, but stopped. He frankly scared the hell out of me. I just sat there and watched him stalk to the door which slid open and snapped shut behind him.

  I took out my handkerchief and wiped off my hands and face, but the aroma of cooked food brought me to my feet. I went to the trolley. What a feast! A thick, juicy steak, a bowl of sizzling french fries, a pile of pancakes oozing maple syrup, toast, butter, marmalade and a pint sized pot of coffee.

  I pulled up a chair and gorged myself. Food gives strength, I told myself, as I cut into the steak. Okay, I had been kidnapped, but at least, I wasn’t going to starve.

  When I had finished eating, making sure there was nothing left, I found a pack of Chesterfields and a lighter on the trolley. I lit up and went back to the lounging chair and sat down.

  I was now much more relaxed. I thought about last night and the little old woman. It seemed to me she must be connected with Mr. Durant. This could only be the explanation of my kidnapping. I hopefully reasoned that Mr. Durant had decided I was the type he was looking for, and for reasons best known to himself, had brought me to this room, to extend the audition. Then I thought about the Ape who had brought in the trolley and I began to sweat again. I told myself not to start heroics with him. Tangling with him would be like tangling with a buzz saw, and that I was not going to do.

  So I waited and sweated.

  A half hour crept by. I kept looking at my watch, wondering when the action would begin. I had smoked four cigarettes and was beginning to fidget when the door snapped open and the ape man came in. He was followed by a short, swarthy complexioned man I immediately recognized by his lizard skin shoes as Joseph Durant.

  As I made a move to get to my feet, he said in a hard metallic voice, ‘Stay seated, Mr. Stevens.’

  He walked to a lounging chair and sat down. I studied him. Lu’s description had been accurate, but Lu hadn’t added that this man not only gave off the aroma of wealth, but he also gave off an unmistakable aroma of sinister menace.

  I glanced at the Ape, standing by the door. He was staring at me the way a tiger stares at a prospective meal. I decided to wait for
Durant to make the opening move.

  He took his time. His hard black eyes studied me, then he inclined his head in what I hoped was a nod of approval.

  ‘Mr. Stevens,’ he said finally, ‘you are naturally wondering what this is all about. There is no need for you to be alarmed. It was necessary to bring you here the way you were brought here.’

  ‘Kidnapping is a Federal offence,’ I said, annoyed that my voice sounded so husky.

  ‘So I believe.’ He looked at his fingernails. ‘This isn’t the moment, Mr. Stevens, to discuss the legal aspects of bringing you here. Later, perhaps, but not now.’ He crossed one solid leg over the other and swung a lizard skin shoe in my direction. ‘There are facts about you, I need to confirm.’ He paused, then went on, ‘You are a bit-part actor with some success in Western movies. You have been unemployed for some six months. You are looking for work.’ He eyed me. ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘Well, yes. I am looking for work,’ I said defensively. ‘Westerns are not the in-thing at the moment. They . . .’

  He cut me short.

  ‘You have no money. In fact, Mr. Stevens, you not only have no money, but you are in debt and you owe rent. Is that correct?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Correct.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I believe I can offer you employment,’ he said. ‘The financial return to you will be more than adequate. I am prepared to pay you one thousand dollars a day for at least thirty days, possibly longer, providing you are prepared to conform to certain conditions.’

  For a long moment, I sat still, stunned.

  One thousand dollars a day for at least thirty days, possibly longer!

  This can’t be true, I thought. Where’s the catch?

  Yet looking at this man, I realized that one thousand dollars a day to him would be chick-feed. As Lu had said this man stank of money.

  But I wasn’t so bemused as to grab at such an offer. There was something about this man that warned me I could be walking into trouble. Again, I glanced at the Ape, standing motionless, glaring at me.

  ‘That sounds interesting, Mr. Durant,’ I said in my nonchalant voice. ‘What are the conditions?’

  ‘I want to buy your full hearted cooperation,’ he returned. ‘I understand that you have a placid temperament. Is that correct?’

  ‘That depends. I’ve never had trouble with my directors. I’ve . . .’

  He cut me off with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Whole hearted cooperation. Let me spell it out. I will only hire you at one thousand dollars a day if you will do exactly what I tell you to do without any query or hesitation. That is what I mean by wholehearted cooperation. What I will ask you to do will not be dangerous, won’t be breaking the law and won’t be beyond your powers. You either give me your wholehearted cooperation or you don’t get hired.’

  There must be a catch in this, I thought, but my mind was already browsing over the thought of one thousand dollars a day.

  ‘Just what is it, you want me to do?’

  He studied me for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  ‘So you are not prepared to give me your wholehearted cooperation without further details? Be sure about this.’

  Was there a warning in his voice? I began to sweat again. To be paid one thousand dollars a day would be marvelous, but I felt in my bones there must be a catch in it. The kidnapping, the Ape, this big money bait and Durant, looking like someone connected with the Mafia, made up a scene that scared me. It won’t be dangerous, won’t be breaking the law, won’t be beyond your powers. This was too glib. In spite of being desperate to earn money, I wasn’t going to walk into anything, blind.

  ‘No,’ I said firmly, ‘I’m not prepared to give you my wholehearted cooperation unless you tell me just what it is you want me to do.’

  I heard a low growling noise from the Ape: a sound like distant thunder. Durant scratched his forehead, frowned, then shrugged.

  ‘Very well, Mr. Stevens. I had hoped that this offer of money would be enough for you to agree to any work offered to you.’

  ‘Then you are mistaken. So what do you want me to do?’

  His thin lips parted in a wintry smile.

  ‘As you insist, I will give you some idea of what will be required of you.’ He paused, then taking out a lizard skin cigar case, he selected a cigar, rolled the cigar between his lips, then nipped off the end with a gold cigar cutter. He glanced over his shoulder at the Ape, who moved forward, struck a match and held the flame while Durant puffed.

  While this was going on, I shook out a cigarette from the pack of Chesterfields and lit up.

  ‘I need you to impersonate a man who resembles you,’ Durant said, behind a cloud of rich smelling smoke.

  This was the last thing I expected to hear.

  ‘Impersonate? Who is this man?’

  ‘For the moment, that is something you needn’t know.’

  ‘Why is it necessary for me to impersonate this man?’

  Durant made a movement as if a fly was irritating him.

  ‘The man you will be impersonating needs freedom of movement,’ he said, a sudden rasp of impatience in his voice. ‘He is being constantly watched by a group of people. His freedom of movement is essential for promoting an important business deal. As he is being harassed by his business rivals and the press, we have decided to hire a standin — that is the word, I believe, you use in the movie world: a man who will draw off this group and the press who are becoming a nuisance, while the man you will be impersonating will be able to leave the country, travel in Europe and complete this deal without the constant worry of being followed and spied on. Once the deal has been completed, you will be able to return to your normal way of life with some thirty thousand dollars in your bank.’

  I sat back and thought about this while Durant smoked and stared away from me. I had read enough about industrial spies. Once, I had played an industrial spy in a low grade movie. The machinations of the big wheelers to put through a deal had long ceased to surprise me. If this big wheel was being spied on, it seemed to me to be a smart move to hire a standin. It wouldn’t bother me to be spied on, and there was this bait of one thousand dollars a day.

  ‘But why the kidnapping?’ I asked to gain time.

  Durant let out an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Now you have been told what you are required to do,’ he said impatiently, ‘you must see the utmost secrecy was necessary. No one knows you are here. You don’t know where you are. Should you decline to cooperate, you will again be drugged and returned to your apartment.’

  Again I thought, then said, ‘How do I know I will be paid when I have completed the job?’

  The wintry smile returned. He took from his wallet a slip of paper. The Ape moved forward, took it from him and handed it to me. It was a credit note on the Chase National Bank for one thousand dollars in my name.

  ‘Every day you are here and working for me, you will be given a similar credit note,’ Durant said. ‘You don’t have to worry about money.’

  I no longer hesitated.

  It won’t be dangerous, won’t be breaking the law, won’t be beyond your powers.

  So why not?

  ‘Okay, Mr. Durant,’ I said. ‘You have yourself a deal.’

  ‘It is understood then, Mr. Stevens,’ he said, his black eyes like the points of an icepick, ‘I am buying your wholehearted cooperation? You will do exactly what you will be told to do?’

  Just for a moment I wavered, then made my decision.

  ‘You have yourself a deal,’ I repeated.

  chapter two

  I sat in the lounging chair and waited.

  I was committed. I had said I would give Durant my wholehearted cooperation. I had a credit note in my wallet for one thousand dollars. According to him, tomorrow, I would be given another credit note for another one thousand dollars.

  I was to impersonate some unknown big wheeler dealer while he went off to fix a deal his rivals either wanted t
o stop or wanted to know about. In return for impersonating him, I would, after thirty days, find in the Chase National Bank thirty thousand dollars to my credit.

  When I had said it was a deal, Durant had nodded, got to his feet and moved to the door. He had paused, stared at me with his hard black eyes and said, ‘Wait, Mr. Stevens,’ then he left, followed by the Ape and the door slid shut.

  So I lit a cigarette and waited.

  I was far from feeling easy. There was something about Durant and the Ape that scared me, but I needed this kind of money. I had been assured there was no danger and I wouldn’t be breaking the law, so it seemed to me, I would need to have my head examined to turn down an offer like this.

  I waited uneasily for some thirty minutes, then the door slid back and the little old woman, plus her poodle, came in. The door must have been controlled by an electronic beam for she had taken only a couple of steps forward before the door snapped shut.

  She was wearing a fawn, turtle neck cashmere sweater and black slacks: a rope of pearls with a sheen on them that told me they were genuine, completed this chic outfit. She paused and gave me a friendly smile. The poodle made a whining sound and struggled in her arms as if anxious to give me a lick of death.

  ‘Mr. Stevens,’ she said gently. ‘May I intrude?’

  I regarded her sourly, then got to my feet.

  ‘Well, you’re here, aren’t you?’ I said.

  She moved further into the room, still smiling and sat down in the chair recently occupied by Durant.

  ‘I have come to apologize, Mr. Stevens. I can quite understand how you are feeling. This must be so strange to you.’

  Remaining standing, I said, ‘Mr. Durant has explained.’

  ‘Of course, but I don’t want you to have any bad feelings, Mr. Stevens. Do sit down. I feel I must explain further.’

  So I sat down.

  ‘How nice of you,’ she said, staring at me with her dark blue, hard eyes. ‘Tell me, Mr. Stevens, is your mother alive?’

  ‘She’s been dead for the past five years,’ I said curtly.

  ‘Sad. Mr. Stevens, I am quite sure, if she were living, she would have done what I did. The man we are asking you to impersonate is my son.’