Hell Is Too Crowded (1991)

by Jack Higgins

  The German's face became suffused with passion. He pulled Brady close, produced a .38 revolver with a specially shortened barrel from his pocket, and tapped him in the face. "Now or later, Brady. It makes no difference to me. If you want a few more hours, keep your mouth shut."

  He pushed Brady out into the corridor and through the main steam room past the cubicles. Brady took his time over getting dressed, his mind racing. Unless the German had been trying to frighten him, there was only going to be one end to this business.

  He was more worried about Anne than he was about himself. As they mounted the back stairs, he thought of her alone in this place, helpless, perhaps in Karl's tender care.

  The thought filled him with sudden quick rage and he hesitated, but the German prodded him in the back with the .38. "Keep moving!" he grated.

  Soames was waiting in her office at the end of the corridor. It was beautifully furnished in contemporary style, the walls decorated in pastel shades of blue and hand-made silk wallpaper.

  The desk was a sheet of black glass and she sat on the other side, a cigarette in a long, silver holder jutting out of the side of her mouth, and signing letters.

  She looked up at him calmly. "You look fine, lover. Just fine. Karl, wait outside in the corridor."

  The German went without a murmur and she grinned again. "A good boy, Karl. A trifle psychopathic at times, but the clients love him."

  "You've got quite a place here," Brady said.

  She shrugged. "I give the public what it wants. My girls are all trained masseurs with diplomas to prove it. Nobody can lay a finger on me."

  There was coffee on a side table and she filled two cups. "Cream and sugar?"

  "Both," Brady said.

  She pushed a cup across to him. "Which part of the States do you hail from?"

  He told her and drank some of his coffee. It was good--very good. He swallowed the rest and put the delicate cup down carefully. "Let's cut the polite conversation and get down to business. Why do you want to see me dead?"

  She put down her cup and lit another cigarette. "But I don't. Not even a little bit."

  "Then what about Haras?" Brady said. "You put him in touch with Das, didn't you?"

  She shook her head and said tranquilly, "I never heard of Haras until Das spoke to me on the phone. It was someone else who asked me if I had a reliable contact in Manningham. An old friend."

  "Then Haras must be tied in with this other person?"

  "That's right, lover."

  "And you've no intention of giving me the name?"

  "For the moment, not a chance. I've been in touch and she's asked me to hold you for the time being. You'll have to take it easy and await developments."

  "So it's another woman?"

  "That's right, lover. Surprised?"

  "Nothing could surprise me any more." His head was aching and her eyes seemed suddenly enormous like black holes in her white face. He said slowly, "What about Anne?"

  "Your girl friend?" She shrugged. "Don't worry about her. I've got a friend in Port Said who can always use fresh talent."

  A cold nausea seeped through him. "You'll never get away with it," he said.

  She sounded genuinely surprised. "Oh, but I will. It's surprising how quickly even the most stubborn girls will come to heel--especially when the right methods are applied."

  "You lousy bitch!" he said, but his voice seemed to belong to someone else.

  He tried to get up, but all the strength had drained from his body.

  She smiled. "Just go with the tide, lover. Have a nice, long sleep."

  Her voice seemed to come from the other side of the hill and he slumped forward across the desk.

  (8)

  HE drifted up from a deep well of darkness and agony exploded inside his head as a hand slapped him heavily across the face. He felt no pain--no pain at all. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him. Each sound seemed to come from far away across water and yet he could hear everything with the most extraordinary clarity.

  "How is he?" Soames asked.

  Karl laughed harshly. "Good for another couple of hours at least."

  "I should know what they want doing with him by then," Soames replied.

  Their voices faded and the door closed. Brady opened his eyes slowly. The room was festooned with cobwebs--giant grey cobwebs that stretched from one wall to another and undulated slowly.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, fighting the panic which rose inside him. When he opened them again, the cobwebs had almost disappeared.

  He was lying on a narrow, single bed against one wall of a small room. A shaded light hung down from the ceiling and curtains were drawn across the window.

  He swung his legs down to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed for a while before trying to stand. There was a bad taste in his mouth and his tongue was dry and swollen. Whatever had gone into that coffee had been good--very good.

  He got to his feet and lurched across the room, steadied himself against the opposite wall, then turned and moved back to the bed. After a while, the cobwebs disappeared completely and suddenly and everything clicked back into normality.

  The door was securely locked and there was no transom. He sat on the edge of the bed and considered the situation. He didn't have a great deal of time to spare.

  By now, the police search had probably extended to London. He had to get out of here. And then he remembered what Soames had said about Anne. Something about a friend in Port Said who could always use fresh talent.

  He had spent too much time working in the Middle East himself to consider the remark merely an idle threat and he crossed to the window quickly and pulled back the curtain. The sash lifted easily and he looked out.

  He was on the top floor of the house and the gardens lay forty feet below in the darkness. The nearest window was a good ten feet away to the left and impossible to reach.

  He closed the window and moved back to the bed and considered the situation for a moment and then he crossed to the door and hammered on it with his bare fists.

  After a while, steps hurried along the corridor and Karl said angrily. "Stop that row, Brady, or I'll come in and make you."

  Brady renewed his attack on the door and the German swore fluently. "All right, you asked for it."

  As the key clicked in the lock and the handle turned, Brady leaned against the door with all his weight. Karl cursed and shoved hard from the other side. Brady held him for a moment and then jumped back.

  The door swung open with a crash and Karl staggered into the room and fell flat on his face, the .38 skidding across the floor.

  He started to get up and Brady moved in fast and kicked him in the stomach. Karl subsided with a groan and Brady picked up the .38 and left the room, locking the door behind him.

  He descended a flight of stairs to the next landing and recognized it at once. The office was at the far end and he stood outside and listened for a moment before turning the handle slowly.

  She was reading some papers and a lamp cast a pool of light across the desk. Brady walked forward quietly and stood watching her from the shadows.

  Some sixth sense must have warned her and she looked up sharply, looking oddly prim in hornrimmed spectacles.

  "Surprise, surprise!" he said softly.

  She laid down her pen and said calmly, "What have you done with Karl?"

  "He felt tired," Brady said. "So I left him to have a nice, long sleep."

  She reached casually towards a drawer and he raised the .38 threateningly. "You do, and I'll put one right through your hand."

  When she spoke, her voice was still calm, but a couple of deep lines had appeared between her eyes. "What do you want?"

  "The girl will do for a start."

  She lit a cigarette calmly and shook her head. "You're too late, lover. She's on board the S.S. Kontoro in the Pool of London and they go down-river in an hour."

  "What game are you playing?" he said.

  She shrugged.
"No game. I told you I had to get rid of her, Brady. She knew too much."

  "And this way you could make something on the transaction?"

  "That's right, and there's nothing you can do about it--not a thing."

  "Isn't there?" His voice was ice-cold and infinitely menacing. He reached forward and held the .38 six inches from her stomach. "If that boat goes before we can get her off, I'll put a bullet in your guts, I promise you. You're a big woman and you'll take a long time to go."

  For the first time her composure broke. "You wouldn't dare."

  "I've got nothing to lose," he said.

  She got to her feet slowly. "I don't think I can get her back. I've already been paid my end by Captain Skiros and he expects to make something on the deal when he reaches Port Said."

  "How much did you get?"

  "Five hundred."

  "You'd better get it and fast," he told her. "Time's running out."

  She lifted a painting down from the wall and opened a small wall safe. After a moment she returned to the desk with a wad of five-pound notes held together by a rubber band.

  He took the money from her and stuffed it into his pocket. "Now we go for a little drive. I've got a car outside. You can take the wheel."

  "What happens when we reach the ship?"

  He shrugged. "We'll play it as it comes."

  "Skiros is a pretty hard apple, lover," she said. "He doesn't take kindly to people who try to lean on him."

  "All you need to worry about is getting us on board," he said. "I'll handle the rest."

  The house was quiet as they went downstairs. She got a coat from the cloakroom and Brady helped himself to a raincoat. They left by the side entrance.

  The rain was falling heavily and slanting through the lamplight as they went down the drive and turned into the street. The car was still there. Brady unlocked the door quickly and she squeezed her massive bulk behind the wheel.

  As he got in beside her, she said calmly, "What happens if the law stops us?"

  "You'd better pray it doesn't," he said. "If they get me, they get you. That's a firm promise."

  She shrugged, and moved into gear without replying. The roads were jammed with traffic and conditions were bad due to the early darkness and heavy rain, but she handled the wheel expertly and they made good time.

  As they approached the docks, the streets became quieter until they were moving through dark canyons flanked by great warehouses, shuttered and barred for the night.

  She braked to a halt underneath a lamp in a narrow alley beside a gate. Through the iron bars, he could see out into the river and somewhere, an anchor-chain rattled and a ship's hooter sounded faintly down-river.

  "We'll have to walk from here," she said.

  He got out and moved round to join her. The main gates were locked, but a small Judas gate at one side opened to her touch and they passed through.

  The watchman's hut was dark and empty. "Where is he?" Brady demanded.

  She shrugged. "Where he always is, I suppose. In the pub at the end of the street. He won't bother us."

  As they rounded the corner of the first cargo shed, rain drifted in a cloud across the river, driven by the wind. Brady lowered his head to avoid the worst of it and followed her across the black shining cobbles to the ship which was moored at the far end of the wharf.

  The Kontoro was brilliantly lit and hummed with the pulse-beat of her hidden machinery. The watchman who leaned over the rail and stared morosely out into the heavy rain, smoked a clay pipe and carried a pick helve.

  Soames mounted the slippery gangplank and Brady followed her. "And who the hell might you be?" the watchman demanded ungraciously.

  "I'm a friend of the captain's," she said. "I must see him before you sail. It's very urgent."

  "No skin off my nose." The watchman shrugged. "He's in his cabin. You'd better hurry, though. We're casting-off in twenty minutes."

  The decks bustled with activity as men worked busily, battening down hatch-covers and making ready to sail. Soames threaded her way through them, ignoring the ribald comments and coarse laughter, and mounted a companionway to the next deck.

  At the entrance to the captain's cabin, she hesitated and turned to Brady. "What now?"

  "Tell him you've changed your mind," Brady said. "I'll handle it from there."

  When she opened the door, Skiros was sitting at a desk in one corner and he swivelled to face them, a pen in one hand. He was large and fat, the great pendulous stomach straining against the buttons of his shabby uniform. His face with its multiple chins gave an impression of jollity and good-humour that was belied by the sharp cunning in the little pig eyes.

  He looked surprised and when he spoke, his English was good with just the hint of accent. "My dear professor, what brings you back so soon?"

  Soames managed a smile. "Something came up, Skiros," she said. "Something important. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call our little deal off."

  The smile remained fixed firmly in position, but his eyes became cold and hard. "But that is impossible, my friend. The bargain has been made. You have my money, I have the girl, so everybody should be satisfied."

  "Not quite," Brady interrupted calmly. "The professor made a mistake. The merchandise wasn't hers to sell." He took the bundle of banknotes from his pocket and tossed them on to the desk.

  Skiros laughed until his eyes almost disappeared between folds of flesh. "Your friend is really very funny," he said to Soames. "Does he expect me to give up the girl in exchange for what I paid for her? That would leave me with no profit on the transaction. In my country we do not do business in such a way."

  "In my country we're not used to this kind of transaction so you'll have to excuse my bad manners." Brady produced the .38 from his raincoat pocket and thumbed back the hammer. "This thing has a hair trigger, fat man," he said. "I could easily have an accident. I probably will if you don't produce that girl in about ten seconds flat."

  The Greek's eyes became round pieces of stone. "You are on my ship, surrounded by my crew," he said. "And they usually do as I tell them."

  "In case you haven't noticed it, you've put on weight lately," Brady said calmly. "I'd find it difficult to miss."

  "If I were you, I'd do as he says," Soames put in quickly. "He means every word, believe me."

  Skiros sighed, put down his pen and took a bunch of keys from the drawer of his desk. "As always, I bow to your perspicacity, my friend. You will find, however, that the terms of our next little transaction will require some adjusting, if only to recompense me for the loss of profit and considerable annoyance I have suffered over this affair."

  He crossed to the door to the inner cabin and unlocked it. "Come out!" he said sharply and stood to one side.

  Anne Dunning appeared in the doorway and stood there, her shoulders bowed in defeat. Her face was shadowed so that the bones stood out in relief, the eyes deep-set in their sockets and the hand that pushed back a tendril of dark hair, trembled slightly.

  Then she saw Brady, the shock was almost physical. She gave a long shuddering sigh and lurched forward into his arms.

  Her slender body started to shake uncontrollably and he held her close with one hand and said, "Hang on, Anne. There's nothing to worry about any more. I'm going to get you out of here."

  She nodded several times, unable to answer him and he glared coldly at Skiros. "What have you done to her?"

  For the first time Skiros looked worried. "But nothing, I assure you, my friend. No one has laid a finger on her."

  "I gave her an injection to keep her quiet earlier on this afternoon," Soames interrupted. "With some people it has side effects. Nothing serious. All she needs is a good night's sleep."

  "Is that true, Anne?" Brady said. "This pig hasn't harmed you in any way?"

  She nodded briefly and Brady turned to Soames, satisfied. "Okay, this is what we do. You go first with the girl. Skiros and I bring up the rear. If either of you makes a wrong move, he gets it. Is that underst
ood?"

  Skiros shrugged and reached for his cap. "How far do we go?"

  "To the main gate," Brady said. "We've got a car there."

  "I think you are a very careful man," Skiros said, and there was a reluctant smile on his face.

  "If we parted at the gangplank, I'd have your crew on my tail before we'd gone halfway along the wharf. You know it and I know it," Brady said. "Now let's cut the small talk and move out."

  Soames went first, supporting Anne easily with one massive arm and Skiros followed, Brady bringing up the rear. He had the .38 ready in his raincoat pocket, finger on the trigger, but there was no need--no need at all. As they negotiated the companionway and moved amongst the crew, heads lifted curiously, but Skiros made no sign. At the head of the gangplank he slapped the watchman on the shoulder and grinned. "Don't worry, I'm only going as far as the gate with my friends. Make ready to sail. We cast off as soon as I return."

  No one spoke again until they reached the gates. Brady gave Soames the keys and she unlocked the door and put Anne into the rear seat. When this was accomplished, she got back behind the wheel and waited.

  "May I go now?" the Greek said.

  Brady nodded. "I don't see why not."

  Skiros smiled and in the light of the lamp, his face looked quite genial. "Life is a circle, turning upon itself endlessly, my friend. We will meet again, and when we do ..."

  "It's hardly likely," Brady said. "We inhabit different worlds. I'd chalk it up to experience, if I were you, and leave it at that."

  He climbed in beside Soames and she moved into gear and drove away. As she slowed to turn the corner at the end of the alley, Brady turned and looked through the rear window. The Greek was still standing there under the lamp, staring after them.

  "You certainly know some lovely people," he said, lighting a cigarette.

  They were moving along Aldgate and she braked to a halt on the opposite side of the road to the tube station. "Look, lover, you wanted your girl friend back and you've got her," she said. "If it's all the same to you, I'll drop off here and we'll call it square."

  "Not quite," Brady said. "If I remember correctly, there was some question of a name, wasn't there?"