Not My Thing

by James Hadley Chase

  Ng gulped.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You and I are going far, kid,’ Kling said. ‘I’ve got five million beautiful dollars! I’ll hire a yacht, and we’ll go together around the world. You’ll like that, won’t you?’

  Ng leaned forward and poured coffee into Kling’s cup.

  ‘Kid, you have a job to do,’ Kling went on. ‘This evening, I want you to knock off a car with a big trunk. A Caddy would be fine.’ He munched the ham. ‘This is good, kid. You’re a great cook.’

  Ng found he couldn’t speak. He sat motionless, horror in his heart.

  ‘You know, kid, I get the idea you’ve gone soft on this woman,’ Kling went on, cutting into the second egg. ‘Okay. It happens. So, all you have to do is to knock off a big car, and I’ll do the rest.’

  ‘You are not going to kill her, sir?’ Ng asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

  Kling pushed aside his finished meal and began to butter toast.

  ‘Kid, you’re getting your lines crossed. You haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve already told you, so I’ll tell you again. I am a professional killer. I make a contract with some guy to knock off some guy or some woman. When I get paid, I do the job. So, okay, Jamison has paid me five million bucks. It is in my Swiss bank right now, so I carry out the contract. All I’m asking you to do is to knock off a car. I’ll do the rest. Got it?’

  Watching Kling spread marmalade on his toast, Ng shivered.

  No! This must not happen! A thought flashed through his mind. By casually getting up to begin to clear the table, he could kill Kling, but that was an impossible thought after what Kling had done for him and for his mother. There must be some other way to save this lovely woman.

  His face expressionless, he said, ‘I understand, sir. When do you want the car?’

  ‘Tonight, around ten o’clock. I want you to put the car in Loveheart’s garage and leave the ignition key in the lock. That’s all. You leave the rest to me.’ Kling munched his toast. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Ng got to his feet and cleared the table and went into the kitchen.

  The telephone bell rang. Frowning, Kling picked up the receiver.

  ‘Kling?’

  Kling recognized Jamison’s barking voice.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘The money is now in your bank,’ Jamison said. ‘You will now carry out our agreement?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tonight. How about the money to be left?’

  ‘I’ve arranged that. It will be in a briefcase at the American Express in the name of Hugh Pilby. They have been given instructions to give the briefcase to you without question.’

  ‘That’s fine. Around eleven tonight, I’ll call you and give you the number of the car. It’ll be parked in the Casino parking lot. Then it’s all yours.’

  ‘Right. I am relying on you,’ and Jamison hung up.

  Getting to his feet, Kling went into the kitchen.

  ‘It’s all set, kid,’ he said. ‘When you knock off this car, park it by the elevator in Loveheart’s garage and leave the trunk lid open so I can spot it. As soon as the job’s done, we get out fast.’

  Ng shuddered.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Okay. I’ve a little business to fix down town. You pack our stuff and be ready to leave late tonight. I’ll see you sometime this afternoon.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Kling suddenly frowned.

  ‘Hey! I haven’t seen that creep Lucan for a couple of days. Have you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Kling paused for a long moment, thinking, then going to the telephone, he called the reception desk and asked to be connected to Lucan’s cabin.

  ‘Mr Lucan checked out two days ago,’ the girl told him. ‘He left no forwarding address.’

  Kling replaced the receiver and stared thoughtfully out of the window.

  Why? he wondered. What had caused Lucan to panic? Or maybe he hadn’t panicked, but had dropped out of sight until the Jamison woman had been fixed. That would be typical of a spineless creep like Lucan. Too bad for him! When the job was done, he would come whining for his money. By that time, Kling and Ng would be in Zurich, and Lucan would never see the money.

  Leaving the cabin, Kling drove down to the American Express offices.

  * * *

  Ng, tormented, spent the day in the cabin. He kept thinking of Shannon. He thought of going to the Whipping room and forcing the lock, then getting her out, but he remembered the lock. It was one of those efficient locks such that when you turned the key, a steel bar shifted into slots, and the only way to get into the room would be to batter down the door with an axe. That could only be done with a great deal of noise. No! That wasn’t the solution! But he was determined to rescue Shannon.

  As he began packing Kling’s clothes, he thought of him. He owed him so much! But the thought of Kling going into that room and murdering Shannon was more than he could bear. He would have to be disloyal! He knew he couldn’t persuade Kling not to do this dreadful thing, so he had to stop him!

  He spent the rest of the afternoon, praying, asking for guidance. He was still praying when he heard Kling come into the cabin.

  Hurriedly getting off his knees, he went into the living-room.

  ‘All fixed, kid,’ Kling said, putting a briefcase on the table. ‘Packing done?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Fine. Here’s the programme. We leave here around ten o’clock. I’ve checked us out. I’ve got flight tickets on the one A.M. to New York. We’ll spend the night there, and then fly on to Zurich. We can get something to eat on the plane. I’m going for a last swim. Coming?’

  ‘No, thank you, sir,’ Ng said. ‘I haven’t quite finished my own packing.’

  ‘Okay,’ and, going into his bedroom, Kling stripped off and put on a pair of swim-shorts that Ng had left out.

  That kid thinks of everything, Kling thought. Then taking a towel, he walked down to the sea.

  Three hours later it was dark.

  ‘I guess we’ll move,’ Kling said. He had been watching TV while Ng had remained in the kitchen.

  Ng came into the living-room.

  ‘We’ll drive down to a car park. I’ll leave you there,’ Kling said, getting to his feet. ‘You may have a little trouble knocking off the right car. There’s a big car park near Loveheart’s joint. When I’ve dropped you, I’ll go to the car park and wait. I’ll give you half an hour, then I’ll leave our car in the park, and walk the rest of the way. You know what to do. Don’t forget to leave the lid of the trunk half open and park close to the elevator, then you return to our car and wait for me.’

  Ng drew in a shuddering breath.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Put our cases in our car now, kid,’ Kling said, ‘and we’ll go.’

  He waited until Ng, carrying the suitcases, had gone out into the darkness, then he took from his pocket a short length of electric cable. At the ends of the cable were small wood handles: the favourite killing weapon used by the Mafia. He tested the handles, then, satisfied, he returned the garotte to his pocket.

  Leaving the lights on in the living-room, he went out to join Ng who was already sitting in the car.

  It so happened that Howard Jackson and Beryl were seated at the table, eating sandwiches. They didn’t see Ng place the bags in the car’s trunk, but they heard the car start up.

  Jackson kicked back his chair and went to the window in time to see the red rear lights of Kling’s car shoot away down the sandy road. He stepped out into the hot, humid night, moved to where he could see Kling’s cabin. He saw the sitting-room window, curtains drawn, was showing lights.

  He returned to where Beryl was finishing her sandwich.

  ‘He’s gone out for the evening, leaving the Viet,’ he said, and sitting down, picked up another sandwich.

  * * *

  Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski sat in his car outside the Casino in the
dreary hope there would be some action. The time was 22.15.

  Lepski had had an unexpectedly good chicken-on-the-spit dinner that, more by luck than judgement, Carroll had cooked to perfection. The apple pie wasn’t all it should be, but after cutting away most of the burnt crust Lepski had enjoyed it.

  As he sat in his seat, relaxed, he thought of Shannon Jamison’s kidnapping. The biggest sensation ever in Paradise City, and yet Chief of Police Terrell refused to make a move.

  Lepski was certain that Shannon Jamison was holed up in Lucy Loveheart’s flesh emporium, and yet, because all the top-shots of the city patronized the place, the police were prohibited to raid it!

  As soon as the ransom is paid, then we move in fast.

  Lepski snorted. When the hell was the ransom going to be paid? Jamison had said he would alert Terrell once he had his wife back, then, possibly, it would be too late to catch the kidnappers.

  Bored with staring bleakly at the Casino entrance, watching the rich get out of their cars and enter, eager to lose their money, Lepski decided to drive down to the harbour where there just might be some action.

  He started his car and drove slowly through the dense traffic down to where the rich moored their luxury yachts.

  He parked in the shadows, sat back, lit a cigarette and surveyed the scene. At this time, there was a lot of activity: tourists gaping at the yachts and motor cruisers, parties going on deck with men in tuxedos and women flashing their diamonds, eating, drinking and talking at the top of their voices.

  He switched on his two-way radio.

  ‘Charlie? Tom. I’m down by the harbour. Any action?’

  ‘Not your kind, Tom,’ Tanner replied. ‘We’ve just had an alert that a car belonging to Mr van Roberts was stolen twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘Cars!’ Lepski moaned. ‘Some goddamn kid! Okay, let’s have it. I’ll watch for it.’

  ‘Dark red Caddy. No. PC5544.’

  ‘Okay.’ Lepski scribbled the number down on a pad. ‘I’ll watch out.’

  ‘All patrols have been alerted. Mr van Roberts is VIP and he’s hopping mad.’

  ‘Yeah, who isn’t VIP except you and me?’ Lepski snorted and switched off.

  He went back to staring at the crowds on the waterfront.

  * * *

  For the past twenty minutes, Kling had been sitting in his car in the parking lot near Lucy Loveheart’s residence, smoking and waiting. His eyes constantly went to his watch.

  While he waited, he thought of what he would do with five million dollars. He grinned to himself. For the first time in his dangerous life, he would be worth real money. He wondered how the kid was getting on. He would get a car and deliver it according to Kling’s instructions. Kling had no doubt about that. Not once had the kid taken a wrong step. It was odd that he seemed to have turned a bit soft about the woman, but that didn’t matter. The kid was young. When they reached Zurich and had collected the money, Kling would see if he could fix the kid up with some chick. That’s what the kid needed: to screw and be screwed. It would make all the difference to the kid’s outlook.

  Kling again looked at his watch. Time to go! He slid out of his car. He paused to check that he had the key to the Whipping room, then he put his hand inside his other pocket and fingered the garotte. It would be quick, and no mess, he thought, as he set off along the sidewalk, keeping in the shadows.

  Checking that no one was observing him, he walked quickly down the ramp to the underground garage that was lit by one overhead lamp.

  Parked a few yards from the elevator was a glittering red Cadillac with the lid of the trunk half open.

  Kling nodded to himself. Nice work, kid, he thought. Very nice work.

  He pressed the down button of the elevator and when the cage arrived, he stepped in and thumbed the top floor button.

  When the elevator came to a stop, Kling took out the garotte. He stepped into the passage and looked up and down the dimly lit corridor, listened, then moved over to the door of the Whipping room.

  Silently he inserted the key and turned it gently, then eased open the door.

  The sound of a Mozart concerto from the radio greeted him. He slid forward, leaving the door ajar, the garotte dangling in his fingers.

  He saw her, sitting with her back to him, intent on the music, and his evil smile lit up.

  Too easy! he thought, and moved like a phantom towards her. The garotte now a loop, ready to drop over her head.

  Then steel-like fingers closed around the back of his neck. He felt a rush of blood to his head. He made an effort to claw away the fingers, then blackness descended, and he fell forward with a thump on the carpet.

  With a scream, Shannon sprang to her feet and turned. She saw the Vietnamese youth staring down at a man who lay face down.

  She began to back away, suppressing another scream.

  ‘Quick, ma’am!’ Ng gasped. ‘I am getting you out of here! Please come with me! We have only a few minutes before he recovers. Quick!’

  Shannon, seeing the tragic expression on Ng’s face, immediately realizing he had come to rescue her, went to him.

  Taking her by the wrist, he hurried her to the elevator. In the garage, he got her into the stolen Cadillac, slid under the steering-wheel and started the engine. He swept around and drove fast up the ramp onto the street.

  ‘Don’t say anything, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Listen, please. This is a stolen car. By now they will be looking for it. I haven’t much time.’

  ‘Oh, Kim!’ Shannon gasped. ‘I knew you would help me!’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ng said. ‘I had to help you.’ He swung the car onto a side street that led down to the water-front.

  ‘Was that man your master?’ Shannon asked.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ng caught his breath in a sob. ‘I have been disloyal. It’s something I can’t live with. I must tell you, ma’am. Don’t go home. Go to a true friend, but don’t go home.’

  He found himself on the water-front. He had only a vague idea of the geography of the city and, seeing the crowded quay, he slowed the car to a crawl.

  ‘I don’t understand what you are saying, Kim.’

  ‘We must talk.’ ‘Ng saw a parking space and edged the big car between two other cars and cut the engine. He turned to look at her, his face showing suffering and tear marks. ‘Ma’am, please believe me. It was your husband who wanted to get rid of you. He hired my master to murder you. He paid five million dollars.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Shannon gasped.

  ‘Please, believe me,’ Ng said and gripped her wrist. ‘You must keep away from him! He wants a child! Go to some friend who you can trust, but don’t go home. You understand?’

  Shannon felt an icy chill run through her. Thinking of the last time she had talked to her husband, seeing his ruthless face, she realized this wasn’t fantasy.

  Somewhere safe? Meg Clayton!

  While they were talking, Lepski shifted his eyes to a newly parked car, then stiffened.

  Red Caddy. No. PC 5544.

  Goddamn it! he thought. Here’s the stolen car! He leaned forward and peered through his windshield. He saw there was a man and a woman, sitting side by side in the front seat.

  Action at last!

  He reached for his two-way radio.

  ‘Charlie! That Caddy is parked on quay eight. Man and woman in it. Block all exits to the quay. I’m investigating.’

  ‘Will do,’ Tanner said and switched off.

  Lepski eased his gun in its holster, then, leaving his jacket hanging open, he slid out of his car and threaded his way through the tourists to the Cadillac. He arrived at the driver’s open window and immediately recognized Ng. His gun jumped into his hand.

  ‘Police,’ he growled in his cop voice. ‘Come on out, both of you, and come carefully.’

  Ng looked at Shannon.

  ‘Ma’am, please remember what I said. Don’t go home,’ and, opening the car door, he got out.

  ‘You too!’ Lepski snapped.

&n
bsp; Shannon got out of the car and, moving swiftly, came around to join Ng.

  There came the sound of police sirens as patrol cars converged on the quay.

  Moving between Ng and Lepski, Shannon said quietly, ‘I am Mrs Sherman Jamison. I have been kidnapped. This young man has rescued me.’

  Lepski gaped at her.

  ‘You’re Mrs Jamison?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He stared at her, and then recognized her. He had often seen photographs of her in the press.

  Two police cars, their blue lamps flashing, came from either end of the quay and men spilled out.

  Lepski suddenly realized the Vietnamese was no longer there. With a movement as quick as a lizard, Ng had jumped towards the harbour wall, and with another jump, as Lepski raised his gun, there was a splash of water.

  Ng swam under water until he was clear of the yachts, then he surfaced and trod water, looking for the last time at Shannon who was standing motionless, her hands covering her face.

  God bless you, ma’am, he thought, then let himself sink into the oily water. The debris from the yachts closed over him.

  * * *

  Kling recovered consciousness to find himself lying on the plush carpet of the Whipping room. His brain immediately became alive. Staggering to his feet, he looked around, but he knew Shannon Jamison had gone and the kid had gone with her. He stood still for some moments until he felt himself again, then, snarling, he searched the apartment, not expecting to find the two there, but he looked.

  Again he paused to think. So the little bastard, after serving him like a slave with his ‘No problem, sir’ had double-crossed him because he had fallen for a woman!

  Snatching up the garotte from the floor, Kling left the Whipping room, shutting the door, but leaving the key in the lock.

  He rode down in the elevator to the garage and saw the stolen Cadillac had gone. Ng wouldn’t get far. The cops would spot the car, and he’d go away in the slammer for at least ten years. Serve the little bastard right!

  Kling’s one thought now was to get out. To hell with Jamison! He told himself that he had to get to Zurich. He had his flight reservations, his clothes and two hundred thousand dollars from Jamison in his car.