1953 - The Things Men Do

by James Hadley Chase

  "Newly everyone looks like a Spiv these days," I said carelessly, and was glad when the waitress brought the first course.

  After the meal, we walked over to the club that was in a street off Tottenham Court Road.

  "When's this big consignment of yours coming off, Bill?" I asked, as we waited on the kerb for the traffic lights to change to green.

  "What consignment?" he asked sharply.

  "Didn't you say you were expecting to escort something big this week?"

  "That's right, but I'm not supposed to talk about it."

  "So they have security even in the Post Office. Seriously, Bill, do you carry a gun? I know you were kidding, Bill, about the grenades, but do they let you have riffles?"

  "Not a hope. I have a club that's about as good as a sick headache, and my wits: that's all."

  "Doesn't it worry you?"

  Bill laughed.

  "Not a scrap. We take precautions. If we've got anything really big, we alter our routes and our times. Anyone planning to rob a van would have to know when we start and that's something they just don't know. We haven't had any trouble in years."

  "You were up and about pretty early this morning."

  He looked a little startled.

  "Did you see me?"

  "I heard the van and I looked out of the window."

  "Between you and me, Harry, that was a rehearsal for the big day: keep it under your hat."

  "When's the big day?"

  Bill shook his head.

  "That's something I can't tell you. I don't know myself. We’ll have it jumped on us without any warning." He abruptly changed the subject and began talking about Middlesex's chances against Surrey. I took the hint and entered into a heated discussion with him. He had always supported Middlesex, but I fancied Surrey had the edge on them this year.

  It was ten minutes past twelve when we came out of the club.

  We stood on the pavement while we lit cigarettes.

  "Well, I'm off home," Bill said, stifling a yawn. "I was up at half-past one this morning. Thank goodness I have a day off tomorrow. Can you see yourself home?"

  "Just about. I was wondering about you."

  Bill grinned.

  "I can manage on my own steam. If I don't get into bed soon I'm going to fall asleep on my feet. See you tomorrow afternoon."

  We parted at the bottom of Greek Street. I caught a bus to Oxford Circus and then walked quickly along Oxford Street to Bond Street.

  I arrived outside Gloria's flat about twenty-five minutes past midnight. The flat was in darkness. I wondered if she had already got back and had gone to bed. It was unlikely, but to be on the safe side, I rang the bell. There was no answer so I decided she hadn't come back yet. I walked over to a dark comer of the mews and, leaning against a wall, settled down to wait.

  I waited for some time. It was close on one o'clock when I heard a car coming. A moment later a taxi slid into the mews and pulled up outside the flat.

  My heart began to hammer against my side as I saw Gloria get out of the car. She was wearing a white strapless evening gown and carried a fur coat on her arm.

  She paid off the taxi, and while she was hunting in her bag for her latch-key and before I could change my mind, I went quickly over to her.

  At the sound of my footfalls she turned sharply.

  "Hello, Gloria," I said, my voice husky.

  "Well, for goodness' sake! What are you doing here at this time of night?"

  "I'm sorry to be so late, but I had to see you. It's important Gloria. Could I come in and talk to you?"

  "But it's nearly half-past one," she returned, her eyes looking at me from under their lashes. "You can't come in now."

  "It's important."

  Suddenly she laughed.

  "Oh, all right Harry. Come in. I bet this is a gag, but I'll fall for it."

  She unlocked the door and together we entered the small hall. She went past me up the stain and I followed her into the big lounge.

  She snapped on the lights and crossed over to the radiogram and turned on some swing music, lowered the sound so it was scarcely above a whisper.

  "Hell! I'm tired," she said, dropping her fur coat on chair. "Get me a drink, Harry. A whisky, and have one yourself."

  "I don't want anything, thanks."

  "Of course you'll have a whisky."

  She went to the bar, poured two large whiskies and pushed one glass towards me. She drank half hers in one thirsty swallow.

  "I don't know why I'm talking to you," she said, setting down the glass. "After the way you stood me up the other night."

  "I'm sorry about that. My wife . . ."

  "For heaven's sake don't start making excuses," she said and laughed. "I guessed your wife found out. It's amazing how wives do find out isn't it? Never mind; it's just one of those things."

  "There's something I must ask you, Gloria."

  "It'll wait, won't it?" She lit a cigarette. "I want to get out of this thing. Come into the bedroom with me while I change, Harry."

  My heart skipped a beat.

  "I—I'll stay here."

  She smiled.

  "Scared of me, Harry?"

  "Maybe. Anyway, I'm not looking for trouble."

  "Aren't you? I wonder

  She gave me a long inquisitive stare, then went into the bedroom, leaving the door open.

  I drank some of the whisky and tried to keep my eyes from straying to the open door, but after a minute or so I looked. I saw her standing before the long wall mirror, clad only in a white brassiere and panties, and the sight of her, like that, set any heart racing and turned my month dry. I watched her slip into a flame-coloured silk wrap. She came out, fastening the wrap and I saw her smooth, naked thighs and long legs before she flicked the wrap into place.

  That glimpse and what I had seen in the bedroom had a devastating impact on my good intentions, and I had to take a grip on myself to stop grabbing her in my arms.

  "How do you happen to be here tonight?" she asked, coming over and sitting on a stool by the bar.

  "My wife's gone to see her mother."

  "So you thought you would come and talk to me."

  "Yes."

  She lifted her glass.

  "You've come at the right time, Harry. I'm just in the mood for you."

  And I was in the mood for her.

  "I—I want to talk to you about Dix."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Gloria, what do you know about Dix? Did you know he's a crook?"

  She finished her drink and set it down on the bar. Her face was expressionless. Then she slid off the stool and came close to me.

  The look in her eyes had me going. Seeing her, the orange wrap accentuating her black hair and eyes, she seemed to me to be the most desirable woman I had ever seen.

  "I must know, Gloria," I said, scarcely knowing what I was saying.

  She took my hand. The feel of her flesh against mine sent a shiver down my spine.

  "Let's go into the other room, Harry."

  I was beyond resisting. I went with her across the room and into her bedroom. She clicked on the lights. Instead of the two shaded lamps coming on that I had seen previously, fights came on everywhere; in the ceiling and around the big wall mirror which reflected down on to the white rug that lay by the enormous bed.

  "I love lights," she said and went over to the mirror and stood before it looking at herself. "Why do people always make love in the dark? I want lights, and lights and more lights. I want you to see me and I want to see you." She turned, looking at me, her eyes glittering, "Do you think I'm beautiful, Harry?"

  "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I said huskily.

  "I believe you mean that. But you haven't seen me yet as I want you to see me."

  She undid the clasp at her waist and slipped out of her wrap, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. Her hands moved quickly, shedding her other garments. In the blaze of light, her skin had the lustre of pearls.

  Fo
r a few seconds she stood motionless, letting me feast my eyes on her, then she held out her arms to me.

  chapter ten

  Okay, okay, you two, break it up."

  Dix's sneering voice sounded as if he were in the room.

  Gloria slid away from me. She snatched up her wrap and slipped into it.

  I lay on the bed, paralysed, and stared around the room, trying to see from where the voice had come.

  "What was that?" I said. The words came out of my mouth in a croak.

  "Oh, shut up!" Gloria said, and went over to the mirror and fluffed up her hair, then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand with such a grimace of disgust that it turned me sick to see.

  "Who was that talking?"

  "Who do you think, you dumb, stupid ox?"

  I was off the bed by now.

  "Was that Dix?"

  She ignored me as she touched up her lips in the mirror.

  My hands were shaking. I could scarcely breathe.

  "Gloria! He's not here, is he?"

  "Oh, shut up!"

  I went across the room and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her round.

  "Is he?"

  She wrenched herself free and hit me three times across my face so quickly and violently I had no change of avoiding the blows.

  "Don't touch me, you stinking lout!" she said shrilly, her face white and as hard as granite. Her eyes looked like holes in a sheet.

  I heard the door open and I spun round.

  "Take it easy," Dix said, coming into the room. "Okay, Gloria, beat it. I want to talk to him."

  Gloria pulled her wrap about her and walked out of the room. Dix shut the door behind her.

  He was wearing his black suit with the white pinstripe.

  His hat was thrust to the back of his head, and there were beads of sweat on his face.

  "Well, pally, you seemed to be giving yourself a good time."

  Rage that I had never known before took hold of me. I wanted to maim him, to tear out his throat, to trample and stamp the blood out of his body.

  I moved towards him, my hands thrust out, my fingers hooked.

  "Better not, pally . . ."

  I was within distance now. I sent over a swing to his face that had every ounce of my weight and strength behind it. He moved his head a fraction and my fist shot past, bringing me on to a short punch that landed solidly under my heart. It made my knees buckle. I closed with him, my hands reaching for his throat, but he threw me off with one tremendous shove, and as I came in again, he dug his fist into my body under the heart and I went down on all fours. I felt as if my ribs had been pushed in; as if I had been kicked by a horse.

  I remained like that for several seconds, and then I slowly pushed myself upright He stood waiting, his hands down at his sides, the sneering grin on his face, his eyes watchful and gloating.

  "I'm way out of your class, pally. Take it easy. I want to talk to you."

  Those two awful body punches had sapped most of my strength. I had trouble in keeping upright, but rage drove me towards him. I wanted to smash his sneering face even if he killed me while I did it.

  He let me come on, then as I hit out, he again swayed away, and again his fist that felt like a mahogany hammer buried itself into my body. I went crashing over backwards and measured my length on the floor. I felt as if my body had fallen apart. I squirmed on to my knees, but that was as far as I got. I had no strength left to push myself upright. I remained there on my knees, my head on my chest, my breath coming out of my open mouth in short, wheezy gasps. Three punches to the body had smashed me and reduced me to the feeble helplessness of a child.

  She had warned me not to hit him. Well, at least that hadn't been a lie.

  Dix went over to the bed and sat on it. He took out a cigarette, lit it and flicked the match into the fireplace.

  "Take it easy, pally. There is plenty of time."

  I remained kneeling on the floor. I don't know how long I stayed like that, maybe ten minutes, maybe longer. Then slowly I reached out and grabbed hold of a chair and pulled myself into it. Every movement sent pain through me. I sat forward, bent in half, my arms folded across my belly. I had a horrible idea that if I didn't hold on to myself, my guts would pour out on to the floor.

  "I'll get you a drink." He got up and went out of the room.

  The radiogram continued to play. The whole business was completely unreal: a deadly kind of nightmare. He didn't come back for some time. I vaguely heard a murmur of voices.

  I sat there, holding on to myself, staring down at the white rug, my mind congealed and blank.

  He came in after half an hour or so and shoved a, glass of whisky into my hand. I took it and swallowed the whisky in one long, convulsive gulp. My rage had drained out of me. All at was left now was a sick horror of myself and a sicker fear of him.

  He sat on the bed again.

  "You know, pally. I thought you were going to turn out smarter than you are. When you didn't show up after Gloria had 'phoned you I began to wonder if you had spotted the setup. I don't mind telling you I got a little worried. Up to now the bait has never failed to land a fish. Well, never mind, better late than never. It worked in the end."

  The door opened and Berry came in. He was in his shirt sleeves. He looked hot and his hair was lank with sweat "Here they are, Ed. They're still wet, but my stars! aren't they pippins!"

  He handed Dix a big white enamelled dish, gave me a cold blank stare and went out, shutting the door behind him.

  Dix examined the contents of the dish.

  "They're damned good. Here, pally, take a look. How's that for art?"

  He came over and put the dish on my knees. The dish contained three quarter-plate sized photographs, fresh out of the hypo bath. When I looked at them I nearly threw up. I didn't have to look twice to see who the man was in the photographs: it was me.

  I threw the dish from me, struggled to my feet and let fly a punch at his race.

  He blocked the punch with his forearm, then gave me a shove that slammed me back into the chair.

  "Relax, pally, or I'll have to hurt you again."

  I looked at him. If I had had a gun I would have killed him.

  "Take it easy. I want to talk to you." He sat on the bed again. "See that little black disc in the middle of that mirror?

  Didn't you ever ask yourself why it was there? I bet you didn't.

  No one ever does. It conceals the lens of a sixteen millimetre movie camera. The film in it is worth a couple of thousand to me. Copies of it will go all over the world. You're going to be a well-known and much appreciated movie star, pally." He flicked ash on the white rug, and grinned. "Believe it or not, this room cost me a thousand to equip, but it certainly has paid dividends. I'm telling you all this, pally, because you're one of us now. If you think different, say so, and I'll send some of these pictures to your nice little wife. They should surprise her, and I don't reckon you'd want her to be all that surprised."

  I knew he had me. There wasn't a thing I wouldn't do to keep those pictures away from Ann: not a thing.

  "That's the set-up, pally," he went on. "You've had a good time, now you've got to pay for it. One false move out of you and I start handing those pictures around. I'll have a job for you in a little while, and you'll do it or else." He leaned forward, his small bright eyes on my face. "I have an idea you have already guessed what I'm up to. Just in case you haven't, I'll tell you. Towards the end of the week, maybe on Saturday or Sunday, a big consignment of industrial diamonds are being sent to the Continent. The consignment will arrive at Eagle Street sorting-office. From there it will be taken to Northolt Airfield by van. I want these diamonds, pally. Everything's laid on, and I expect to get them. Your garage is our operations headquarters. The Jaguar Gloria left with you is one of our get-away cars. We have tapped your phone and Joe is ready to phone a message to me as soon as he sees the van leave. But there's just one little job we haven't take care of. It needs technical knowledge, and tha
t's something you have got. On Friday night you're going to get into the sorting-office and you're going to put the alarm bell that's inside the van out of action. How you do it is up to you, but you'll do it. If you don't I'll call on your wife and give her the pictures. If there's a leak; if you don't pull out the job, I'll know who's been talking out of turn, and I'll fix you and I'll fix your wife. You mightn't think so to look at him, but Louis is one of the best acid throwers in town. Ever seen a girl who's had acid thrown in her face? That's what will happen to your wife if you talk, but I'll give her the pictures first."

  He got to his feet.

  "Well, I guess that's all, pally. Today's Wednesday. You've got until Friday morning to work out an idea how to put that alarm bell out of action. I'll be in Friday afternoon to hear how you are going to do it. I'll bring one of the pictures with me just in case your brain hasn't worked." He walked over to the door and threw it open. "On your way, pally."

  I got up slowly and painfully. I had nothing to say: there was nothing to say. I had walked into a trap with my eyes wide open and the trap had snapped shut. This wasn't the time to look for a way out.

  Each step I took to cross the room sent a jar of pain through me. I went slowly into the lounge.

  Berry and Louis were sitting up at the bar, whiskies before them. Gloria was lying on the sofa, smoking. Her flame-coloured wrap had fallen open, and her long legs sprawled, one on the settee, and the other dangling to the floor. She didn't look at me as I moved like a cripple across the room to the door.

  "See the gent out, Berry," Dix said, following me into the lounge. "Treat him nice. He's a partner in the business now."

  Berry slid off his stool and opened the door.

  "On your way, sucker," he said, his thin mouth twisting into a sneering grin. "Mind how you fall downstairs."

  I groped my way down the stairs to the front door and opened it.

  "Just a minute," Berry said, "there's something I want to say to you."

  I turned.

  I saw his fist coming, but my reflexes were too slow to avoid it. I took a bang in the mouth that sent me reefing into the mews, and before I could regain my balance I went sprawling.