Not My Thing

by James Hadley Chase

  Lucan jumped to his feet, his face the colour of tallow, his eyes bugging out.

  ‘No! I won’t have anything to do with this! I don’t give a damn about the money! You’re out of your mind, Ernie! It’ll be mass murder! No! No!’

  Kling burst out laughing. He lolled back, laughing, while Lucan stared at him in horror. When the laughing fit ceased, Kling straightened, then finished his drink and set the glass down.

  ‘Lucky, you have a brain even a chicken wouldn’t envy,’ he said, the expression on his face now hard. ‘Sit down and listen.’

  Lucan was so shaken, he was glad to sit down.

  ‘I said no!’ he managed to get out. ‘I mean it!’

  ‘Oh, pipe down!’ Kling snarled. ‘Do you imagine for a moment I intend to kill some twenty people to get rid of a woman who stands in the way of a bastard like Jamison?’ He leaned forward. ‘But Jamison thinks so. I’ve sold him on the idea. He couldn’t give a damn so long as he is rid of his wife.’

  Lucan wiped his sweating face with his handkerchief.

  ‘So you’re not going to do it?’

  ‘Of course I’m not going to do it! I’ve got a hundred thousand bucks out of him. How’s that for starters?’

  Lucan finished his drink.

  ‘You had me scared. Jesus. I really thought…’

  ‘Lucky, you’re so stupid it’s not true,’ Kling said with a snarl in his voice. ‘No wonder you chase old, randy women for a living. Do you imagine I would settle for three hundred thousand to knock off the wife of a bastard worth billions? I’ve checked him out. He’s worth at least five billion and has unlimited credit. This deal, Lucky, is worth at least five million to me, and ten per cent to you works out at half a million.’

  Lucan stiffened. He felt his mouth turn dry.

  A half a million dollars!

  ‘He’ll never pay it,’ he said, his voice quavering. ‘He’ll find someone else. You’re crazy, Ernie.’

  ‘He’ll have to pay it,’ Kling said and grinned. ‘This is not going to be a murder job: it’s going to be a kidnap job.’

  Lucan felt a tremor of fear run through him.

  ‘Kidnap? That’ll bring in the FBI. No, I don’t go along with that!’

  ‘This is a chance in a life-time, Lucky,’ Kling said. ‘I’ve got it all worked out. It’s now up to you. If you want to earn a half a million, then you’re in, but if you want to chicken out, say so. I can always find someone else for that kind of money.’

  Half a million dollars! Lucan’s mind reeled at the thought.

  ‘How do I earn it?’ he asked, sitting forward and staring at Kling.

  ‘When Mrs Jamison is snatched,’ Kling said, ‘I want a safe-house somewhere in this city to hide her. Now you know the district. Can you find me a safe-house? That’s how you earn the money.’

  ‘I don’t have a thing to do with the snatch? I don’t have anything further to do with Jamison? All I have to do is to find a safe-house for Mrs Jamison?’ Lucas was gaining confidence.

  ‘You read me, Lucky,’ Kling said smoothly. ‘Maybe some odds and ends for you to help clear up, but that’s your big job.’

  ‘What odds and ends?’ Lucan demanded suspiciously.

  ‘How do I know? No one earns a half a million without working for it, but you’ll have nothing to do with the snatch nor anything to do with Jamison.’

  The thought of owning half a million dollars reduced Lucan’s fears.

  ‘How do I get the money?’

  ‘As soon as I get the ransom from Jamison, I’ll fix it you get your cut. You can have it in cash.’

  ‘Not cash!’ Lucan shuddered. ‘That’s too easily traced. How the hell can I pay all that money into my bank without starting a stink?’

  ‘Have you got a Swiss banking account?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s the answer,’ Kling said. ‘That’s how Jamison is going to pay me. He has big assets all over the world. I have an account in a small, private bank in Zurich. I did the Big-shot there a great favour.’ He grinned. ‘He had been having it off with his secretary and she turned ugly when he found some other piece of tail. So, for free, I got rid of her. A nice little job. She fell off the balcony of her apartment. This guy will do anything for me. Suppose I get him to open an account for you, Lucky? It’s secret banking. You have a number. You can transfer money to any country in the world except, of course, USA. How about it?’

  Lucan lost all his fears. Man! he thought, I could buy an apartment in Monte Carlo, play at the Casino, not bother ever again with fat, randy old women.

  ‘Okay, Ernie. That sounds great.’

  ‘Yeah, now the safe-house. Any ideas?’

  Lucan sat back and thought while Kling watched him. Finally, Lucan nodded.

  ‘I think so. I’ll have to talk, but, Ernie, this will cost money.’

  ‘The sky’s the limit, if it’s really safe for two weeks.’

  ‘It could cost a hundred thousand.’

  ‘So what? We’re going to make five million. What’s a hundred thousand, and this won’t come out of your share. I’ll take care of the cost.’

  ‘My prospect is tough, Ernie. She will want an advance.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘I’m thinking of Lucy Loveheart. She runs a top-class, very discreet brothel. She and I have done business. Whenever I lift a bit of jewellery or something of value, I take it to Lucy and she gives me a fair price. How she gets rid of the stuff I sell to her is not my business. She has around twelve apartments in her house, all fitted to take care of rich lechers, plus girls. At the top of the house is the Whipping room. I just might persuade her to rent it to me for a couple of weeks if the price is right.’

  ‘Whipping room?’ Kling said, staring. ‘What the hell’s that?’

  ‘Lucy deals with all kinds of perverts. There are guys who like to thrash girls, and the more they scream, the better these punks like it, so Lucy has a sound-proof apartment on the top floor. I’ve seen it. A decent living-room, a bedroom, bath and even a kitchenette. You could let a gun off in there and no one would hear it. What’s more there are no windows. Could be your ideal safe-house if Lucy will play.’

  ‘That’s a great idea, Lucky. Go, talk to her. I don’t give a damn what it costs, but try to get it as cheap as you can. I’ll pay ten thousand deposit.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Ernie. I’ll go talk to her now.’ Lucan got to his feet. ‘About my ten thousand. When do I get that?’

  ‘A week, Lucky. It depends on what deal you do with this woman. I’ll be running myself short.’

  ‘You’ll fix a Swiss account for me?’

  ‘Sure. No problem.’

  Lucan relaxed and smiled his charming smile.

  ‘I’ll fix it, Ernie,’ and he left the cabin almost at a run.

  Ng Vee who had been listening to all this from the kitchen came into the living-room.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘it seems a lot of money to give a disgusting gigolo like that. A half a million dollars!’

  Kling stretched his long arms and yawned.

  ‘Who said that creep will ever get the money, kid? What’s for lunch?’

  * * *

  After lunch at Chong Wing’s restaurant of sweet-sour prawns and side dishes, Lucan, feeling buoyant and fortified, walked up the steps to Lucy Loveheart’s residence.

  The time was 15.00. With luck, Lucy wouldn’t be too busy to see him, he thought, as he rang the bell.

  Sam opened the door. Recognizing Lucan, whom he despised, he gave a slight nod.

  ‘Mrs Loveheart,’ Lucan snapped. ‘It’s urgent.’

  ‘I will inquire if she is free,’ Sam said, and stood aside. He showed Lucan into the ante-room and Lucan prowled around as Lepski had done some three hours ago. After an irritating wait of fifteen minutes, Sam appeared.

  ‘Mrs Loveheart can spare you a few minutes,’ he said and conducted Lucan to the elevator.

  Lucy was at her desk which was covered with papers. She looked
up, her violet-coloured eyes unfriendly as Lucan entered her office.

  ‘Hello, Lucky. Have you got something for me? We must make it short. I’m busy.’

  ‘When aren’t you, dear Lucy?’ Lucan said with his charming smile. ‘It depends on you how long this will take, but I assure you I’m not going to waste your time.’ He sat down in the visitor’s chair, crossed his long legs and took out his gold cigarette-case.

  ‘What is it?’ Lucy snapped. ‘Come on, Lucky! What have you got for me?’

  ‘A lot of money, dear Lucy. Around fifty thousand dollars. Like the sound of it?’

  Lucy regarded him.

  ‘You mean you have something you think is worth that kind of money?’

  ‘Nothing like that. I’m offering you fifty thousand for a little service. It’ll be in cash,’ Lucan said, lighting his cigarette.

  Lucy couldn’t conceal her surprise.

  ‘You are offering me money? You must be drunk!’

  ‘Lucy, don’t let’s waste time. I want to rent the Whipping room for two weeks. I’m offering fifty thousand for the two weeks’ rent. How about it?’

  Lucy, whose shrewd mind worked quicker than fork lightning, immediately shook her head.

  ‘The Whipping room for fifty? Run away, Lucky. I’m busy.’

  Lucan had expected this reaction. He knew Lucy to be very tough.

  ‘Look, Lucy dear, let me explain the setup. A rich client of mine wants to put his wife out of the way for two weeks. She is a little scatty in the head and has caused him a lot of trouble. He just wants to lose her for two weeks so he can do a business deal. He consulted me and I thought of the Whipping room. It’s an ideal place to keep this woman. It’s only for two weeks. No problem. How about it?’

  ‘Why doesn’t he send her to a clinic if she’s scatty?’

  ‘Because she isn’t scatty enough and wouldn’t go. She’ll have to be kidnapped, dear Lucy. Now don’t get excited. She’ll be brought here under sedation. She won’t know where she is. You won’t be involved. When the time comes for her to be released, she will again be sedated. You won’t be implicated, and it will be an easy fifty thousand in your pocket.’

  Lucy smelt money. That was something she couldn’t resist.

  ‘What you are telling me is a woman is to be kidnapped and hidden in the Whipping room… right?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘And you’re offering twenty-five thousand a week to house her here?’

  ‘Dead easy money, Lucy,’ Lucan said, flashing on his charming smile. ‘We’ll fix it someone will take care of her. You don’t have to bother. Just shut off the Whipping room and pick up a nice fifty grand.’

  ‘Kidnapping is a Federal offence,’ Lucy said. ‘No! Go elsewhere. Run away, Lucky. You’re wasting my time.’

  ‘There’ll be no blow-back. This woman is scatty. The husband will say she’s in a clinic. The cops nor the Feds won’t come into it. Come on, Lucy! What’s your price?’

  ‘Who is this woman?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t know, nor do I care. I’m acting as a go-between. What’s your price?’

  Lucy thought. There was a long pause.

  ‘Two weeks only?’ she asked, staring at Lucan, her eyes hard.

  ‘No more and utterly safe, Lucy. What’s your price?’

  ‘For a risky job like this, two hundred thousand,’ Lucy said. ‘For that I’ll rent you the Whipping room for two weeks.’

  ‘That’s crazy!’ Lucan exclaimed. ‘I could easily find some place else, but I wanted to do you a favour. Look, let’s say sixty a week. How’s that?’

  Then began the haggling. After twenty minutes, Lucan, now sweating, agreed the sum should be one hundred thousand a week with a ten thousand cash down-payment. As it wasn’t his money, he didn’t really care. He promised to let Lucy have the down-payment by tomorrow and she agreed the Whipping room would be closed to clients as soon as she had the deposit.

  Feeling a little limp, but triumphant, Lucan got in his car and drove fast to the Star Motel.

  It so happened that Lepski, sitting in his car, brooding about Carroll, had spotted Lucan as he drove past in his rented Mercedes. Because he hated Lucan, Lepski decided to follow him. He was surprised to see Lucan enter Lucy Loveheart’s residence. He had waited and saw Lucan leave. He wondered what a gigolo like Lucan was up to in Lucy’s brothel.

  6

  When Jamison had left Kling, he drove up to the highway and headed towards the city. The heavy traffic irritated him. He wanted a long pause to think, so, at the next layby, he pulled in and cut the car engine. He leaned back in the car and lit a cigarette.

  A shrapnel bomb!

  This man Kling was a true professional! Who would have thought of such a perfect solution but a true professional?

  He nodded to himself. An ingenious idea! No one would suspect him. At that early hour of 08.30, when the service would be over, there would be few, if anyone, passing the church. Kling was a professional. He was sure either to disguise himself or to make certain not to be seen when he threw the bomb.

  Not for one moment did Jamison consider those people who would be wiped out as they stood in the church doorway, shaking hands and listening to the priest’s blessing.

  He thought about Kling. That lean, evil face! Jamison was sure that, given the money, Kling would rid him of Shannon.

  On Friday morning, he would be free! He would telephone Tarnia in Rome and gently break the news that Shannon was no more. He would tell her of what a terrible shock it had been to him that this brutal assassination had happened, involving Shannon.

  Thinking, looking back, he now regretted not calling in a professional killer long before this. Next month, he would be fifty years of age, which was not the best time in a man’s life to raise a family, but, he thought, better late than never.

  Friday!

  He then thought he would be faced with forty-eight hours before Kling went into action.

  The thought of spending these long, tense hours under the same roof as Shannon, knowing she would be dead on Friday, became unthinkable.

  No!

  He decided he would fly to NYC on the excuse of urgent business. That was the solution, he told himself. He would be in his New York office when the bomb exploded. He would rush back to Paradise City, but during the inevitable delay the police would have cleared up the remains. He hoped he wouldn’t have to identify Shannon, shattered by shrapnel. He would return as the stricken husband.

  He looked at his watch. The time was just after 13.00. There was a flight from Miami to New York at 15.30. He set the car in motion and drove fast to his villa.

  As he pulled up, he saw Conklin dusting the Rolls.

  ‘You are to drive me to the airport in half an hour,’ he barked. ‘Then return this car to the Hertz people.’

  As he entered the lobby of the villa, he found Smyth waiting.

  ‘Pack me a bag: no tuxedo,’ he snapped. ‘I am leaving for New York. I will be away until Friday afternoon,’ and he walked into his study.

  ‘Perhaps lunch, sir?’ Smyth asked.

  ‘Nothing! I am leaving for New York in half an hour!’ and Jamison slammed the door.

  There happened to be some unimportant business that he could discuss with his directors. It would provide an excuse to break his vacation. He got the files from his drawer and put them in his briefcase. His mind was now only on Tarnia, far away in Rome. The mother of his future son! He longed to telephone her, to tell her, that by Friday he would be free to marry her, but he knew this would be too dangerous. He must contain his impatience. When Shannon was dead… then was the time!

  A tap on the door made him look up, scowling. Then Shannon entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  The last person he wanted to see! Staring at her, he had to admit she was beautiful, and he felt an odd sick qualm run through him to think this beautiful woman, by Friday morning, would be blown to pieces.

  ‘Ah, Shannon…’ he
said, forcing a smile.

  ‘I want to talk to you,’ she said. ‘Am I interrupting something?’

  He lifted his hands in a gesture of bogus despair.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I have this merger coming up, and I am leaving for New York immediately.’ He was irritated to hear how husky his voice sounded. ‘I’m sorry, Shannon. I have a lot on my mind.’

  ‘I too have a lot on my mind,’ Shannon said quietly. She didn’t come further into the room, but stood, looking directly at him. ‘I want to discuss it with you. I have decided we can’t go on living like this. I want a legal separation.’

  He regarded her, his eyes cold. A separation? Well, yes, they would be separated forever on Friday morning, but not the way she was thinking.

  By Friday, this wife of his, asking for a legal separation, would be dead!

  ‘I must go,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘We will discuss this Friday night. I’ll keep Friday night clear. Let’s have dinner together here, and we’ll talk about the future. You will want to know how you stand if you leave me, won’t you?’

  She studied him for a long, uncomfortable moment and Jamison was dismayed how his heart fluttered and his hands turned clammy.

  He was thinking: there will be no dinner and no discussion. By Friday morning, you will have no future to discuss with me.

  ‘Very well, Sherman, then Friday night,’ she said. ‘I won’t keep you,’ and, turning, she left the room.

  Jamison took out his handkerchief and wiped his damp hands.

  Smyth tapped and entered.

  ‘The Rolls is waiting, sir. I have your bag.’

  Jamison found he had to make an effort to get to his feet. He found he lurched slightly as he walked by Smyth. He hoped he wasn’t going to have further trouble with his heart condition which his doctors had assured him was only due to overwork. This last and forever meeting with Shannon, knowing she would be dead very soon, appeared to have made a bigger impact on his ruthless nerves than he had bargained for.