1977 - I Hold the Four Aces

by James Hadley Chase

  Reaching for his telephone, he dialled a Paris number.

  * * *

  Archer sat slumped in an armchair, staring bleakly around the shabby little living-room.

  Where was Grenville?

  Surely, Archer asked himself, Grenville couldn’t have been so reckless as to leave the villa and show himself on the streets? No! After Archer’s repeated warnings that Grenville must remain in the villa until the ransom was paid, he was sure Grenville hadn’t wandered out for a walk. Then what had happened to him? Why had he vanished? Where was he?

  Archer thumped his fat knees with his fists. Just when it looked so good! He was certain Helga would pay! And now, Grenville had vanished!

  Then a thought occurred to him. It could be that Grenville had lost his nerve, and as soon as Archer had driven away, he had left the villa, walked down to the bus stop and was already on a train, taking him from Switzerland! That could be the only explanation! This handsome, useless gigolo had lost his nerve and had bolted!

  A surge of bitterness ran through Archer. It was all right for Grenville. He was still reasonably young, handsome, and with this sexual attraction which elderly women couldn’t resist. He could always find some stupid, rich woman who would keep him. He wouldn’t get a million dollars from her, but at least, he would be able to live in luxury.

  Archer closed his eyes as he thought of his own future: back again to the shabby, fringe people with their hopeless plans to make millions, to float impossible loans, to sell land that they didn’t own, with him accepting miserable fees to do their legal work. That was his future: getting shabbier and shabbier, continually hunting for money on which to live. He thought of Joe Patterson. There was no hope of returning to him. He would now have to find another client, but not in Switzerland. Perhaps in England.

  He still had ten thousand francs in his Swiss account, but if he drew on that, he would have nothing left.

  Grenville had seemed so sure of Helga. What could have happened to make him change his mind and bolt?

  Damn him! Archer thought. Damn him!

  There was now no point in remaining in this shabby little villa. Grenville was gone. The sooner he left Lugano and was on his way to England, the better. As he got to his feet, the front door bell rang.

  Archer stiffened and his heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? Had Helga alerted the police? He thought that was unlikely, but he could never be sure of Helga’s reactions. Was this the police? He hesitated, then, as the bell rang again, he forced himself to go to the front door and open it.

  The shock of seeing Bernie, smiling, standing on the doorstep, made Archer’s heart skip again.

  “Ah, Mr. Archer,” Bernie said. “So nice to see you again. How are you?”

  Immediately Archer’s shrewd, quick brain clicked into action. This short, squat, bearded Italian with his oily smile and menacing eyes must be the explanation of Grenville’s disappearance.

  He forced a smile as he stood back.

  “This is a surprise, Bernie,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  Bernie, still smiling, moved forward while Archer gave ground. Bernie stepped into the lobby.

  “We have affairs to discuss, Mr. Archer,” he said.

  “Come in.” Archer led the way into the living-room. “What is it?”

  Bernie looked around, then selecting a chair, he sat down.

  “Mr. Grenville has been kidnapped,” he said.

  As soon as he had seen Bernie standing on the doorstep, Archer knew he was in for trouble, but this statement shook him.

  “Kidnapped? By whom?”

  “By me.” Bernie smiled. “Mr. Archer, you are an amateur. Your faked kidnapping was stupid. I have taken over the operation. To get Grenville back, this Rolfe woman will have to pay ten million dollars. I am prepared to pay you and Grenville five hundred thousand dollars each to cooperate, but the rest of the money comes to me. You are to be my go-between. You will tell this woman the ransom has been increased from two to ten million.”

  “Ten million!” Archer gasped. “She won’t pay!”

  “She will when she gets one of Grenville’s ears which you will deliver to her.”

  Archer’s legs suddenly felt boneless and he dropped into an armchair.

  “Mr. Archer, this is now no longer a game,” Bernie said. “I have Grenville, and I am quite prepared to send her his ear, and if she even hesitates, I will send her one of his fingers. I mean business, Mr. Archer, not like your childish bluff with tomato ketchup.”

  Archer shuddered, then he pulled himself together.

  “You must handle this yourself,” he said. “I am leaving immediately. I will have nothing further to do with it!”

  Bernie laughed.

  “Mr. Archer, you will do what I tell you.” He produced from under his coat the silenced Luger. “I assure you, I will shoot you if you don’t cooperate. This gun makes no noise. You will be found here after some time, dead and rather smelly, and the police will have no idea who shot you. So you will cooperate.”

  Archer stared with horror at the menacing gun.

  “Yes all right,” he said, his voice husky. “Yes, I will do what you say.”

  Bernie nodded and put away the gun.

  “Sensible man.” He paused, then went on, “I understand you have given this woman three days to collect the two million dollars. That is all right. It is good for her to sweat. On the third day, you will go to her and tell her she must now find ten million dollars in two days. Unless she does, you will give her one of Grenville’s ears.”

  At this moment, the telephone bell began to ring.

  Bernie waved to the telephone.

  “Answer it, Mr. Archer.”

  Moving unsteadily, Archer got out of his chair and picked up the receiver.

  As soon as he said, “Hello,” Grenville’s hysterical voice exploded over the line.

  “Jack! I’ve been kidnapped! This is your fault! These men are vicious! You’ve got to do something! I should never have listened to you! You’ve got to get me free! They are threatening to cut my ear off! I…” There was a click and the line went dead.

  Shaken, Archer replaced the receiver.

  “That was Mr. Grenville,” Bernie said. “I arranged the call so you wouldn’t think I was bluffing. Now listen to me, Mr. Archer. The day after tomorrow, you will go to this woman and tell her she is to pay ten million dollars in bearer bonds if she wants her lover back. I will leave it to you to be convincing, and for Mr. Grenville’s sake, you had better be convincing!” Again he smiled. “If I were in your place, Mr. Archer, under this pressure, my thinking would be that my amateur plan had gone sour. I would then think only of myself, and I wouldn’t be bothered about Mr. Grenville. I would decide my best plan would be to leave Switzerland and forget the whole thing.” Bernie grinned evilly. “But that would be wrong thinking. I am not an amateur. I have an organization here. From now on, you will be watched. If you attempt to run away, you will meet with a fatal accident. I don’t want you dead, Mr. Archer, so I want your passport, just in case you are ready to take the risk and run.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me!”

  Slowly and reluctantly, Archer took out his passport and gave it to Bernie.

  “Now we are organized,” Bernie said, getting to his feet. “Then the day after tomorrow, you will see this woman and arrange the affair. Make it convincing, Mr. Archer. You understand?”

  Archer nodded.

  “That is good. Bye now: you will be seeing me.”

  Bernie left the villa and, walking down the path, he got into the VW.

  His heart pounding, his face ashen, Archer watched him drive away.

  * * *

  On the long, slow drive to Bern, Helga, behind the wheel of the Rolls, was haunted by the sad, shocked expression in Hinkle’s eyes. She tried to steel herself. She told herself she could not allow herself to be controlled by this man, although, she knew, without him, there would be an irreplaceable hollow in her life. She w
as furiously ashamed of herself for having spoken to him as she had done.

  Suppose he took her seriously? Suppose he did leave her? It was unthinkable! But Chris now was her life! If she had to choose between Chris and Hinkle, she knew whom she would choose. And yet, life without Hinkle...

  She was half out of her mind with worry when she sat down in the Director’s office in the bank.

  The Director, slim, youngish with a Swiss reserve, had an efficiency that gave her confidence.

  “I need two million dollars in cash,” she said. “I want it by tomorrow.”

  “Certainly, Madame Rolfe. I have studied your portfolio. It is an unfortunate time to sell. To raise two million by selling some of your shares would mean a twenty-five per cent loss. I suggest we lend you the money. The bank charge would be eight-and-a-half per cent. That, I suggest, would be a better way.”

  “Would you lend me the money?”

  “But, of course.”

  “The money is to be transferred to a numbered account,” Helga said. “I will give you the number and the name of the bank later.”

  “There is no problem, Madame Rolfe.”

  Ten minutes later, Helga was driving back to Lugano. The time now was 16.00. She still felt so bad about Hinkle she couldn’t face spending the rest of the evening at the villa. She stopped at the Eden Hotel and drank a vodka martini on the terrace. She then walked along the lakeside, her mind continually on Grenville, and then on Hinkle.

  Around 19.00 she realized she hadn’t eaten all day, so she walked to her favourite restaurant, Bianchi, on via Pessina.

  Dino, one of the head-waiters, who always looked after her, welcomed her.

  “Madame Rolfe! This is a great pleasure!”

  Seated, she asked what she could eat.

  “Something light, Dino.”

  “Then I suggest Puccini toast and a poussin in mushroom sauce.”

  She nodded.

  While she ate, her thoughts turn to Hinkle. She must win him over! She must convince him that Chris was now part of her life, and she couldn’t live without him. She must convince Hinkle! She must win him over!

  She returned to the villa a little after 20.00. As she drove into the garage, she saw the lights were on, and as she climbed the steps to the front door, it opened.

  Hinkle stood in the doorway, his fat face expressionless and he gave her a stiff little bow.

  “I have arranged everything,” she said, moving by him and going into the living-room.

  After closing and locking the front door, Hinkle joined her.

  “Will you require dinner, madame?”

  “No, thank you. I had dinner in Lugano.” She dropped into a chair. “Hinkle, I want to talk to you.”

  “Certainly, madame.” He moved further into the room, but away from her.

  “I am a woman in love, Hinkle. When a woman loves as I do, she is unreasonable, stupid and hurtful. Chris is my life! I want you to understand. I am asking you to forget what I said to you this morning. You are part of me, Hinkle! Without you, I would be lost.” Tears filled her eyes. “I am so worried and unhappy, but that doesn’t excuse me. I am very, very sorry to have spoken to you as I did. Will you please be kind and forgive me? Will you please understand?”

  Obviously moved, Hinkle said, “As long as you need me, madame, I shall be happy to serve you. While we are speaking frankly, I would also like to say that I have great admiration for you. Ever since you married Mr. Rolfe, I have learned from experience that you are a remarkable lady. You have something I always admire,courage.” He paused, then looked directly at her, “And, madame, you will need your courage.” With a little bow, he went on, “If you will excuse me, there are things I have to attend to,” and he left her.

  Feeling utterly alone, Helga walked out onto the terrace and stared at the moonlit lake. She thought of Chris. The night and the next day stretched interminably before her.

  Courage?

  What did Hinkle mean?

  That night she took three sleeping pills and was mercifully released from her thoughts.

  At 08.30, Hinkle tapped on her door and wheeled the coffee trolley into her bedroom. A little drowsy from her sleeping pills, Helga lifted herself off the pillow.

  “Punctual as usual, Hinkle,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m longing for coffee.”

  “I trust you slept well, madame,” Hinkle said as he poured the coffee.

  “I took three sleeping pills.”

  He handed her a cup of coffee and then stood back.

  “Madame, this is going to be a trying day for you. I understand Mr. Archer won’t be calling until tomorrow morning.”

  Helga nodded.

  “I suggest then that you should seek distraction. Time hangs heavily when you have nothing to do but wait.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Helga said. “I will sit on the terrace. I have things to think about.”

  “That is the worst thing you could do, madame,” Hinkle said firmly. “I suggest a visit to Como to look at the shops and have lunch there. Sitting on the terrace will only increase the tension.”

  He was right, of course. She had a bleak thirty-six hours to wait before Archer arrived. During those hours, there was nothing she could do to help Chris.

  “All right, Hinkle. I’ll go to Como.”

  She wasn’t to know that Hinkle was anxiously awaiting a telephone call from Jean Faucon, and he didn’t want Helga to be in the villa when the call came.

  Her face drawn and white, Helga finally drove away at 11.00, and Hinkle sighed with relief. He paced uneasily up and down the terrace, every now and then, looking at his watch.

  The anxiously awaited telephone call didn’t come until 13.30. Hinkle had done the housework and had given himself a sandwich lunch. When he heard the telephone bell ring, he half ran into the living-room and snatched up the receiver.

  Helga fought her way through the heavy Como traffic, and finally, found parking for the Rolls. She wandered around the town, staring sightlessly at the shop windows, her thoughts on Chris. What was he doing at this moment? Were those awful thugs giving him anything to eat? The money would be ready tomorrow, and when that swine Archer came, she would give it to him, and by the evening, Chris would be back with her! She felt a surge of sexual excitement run through her as she thought of tomorrow night. He and she together again! What was two million! Nothing to her! She loved him.God! how she loved him! As soon as she got him back, they would fly to Paradise City, and they would get married.

  She now felt confident that she had made her peace with Hinkle. Villa Helios must be sold. It now had too many painful memories. She could never live there again. After lunch, she drove back to Lugano, and seeing an estate agent’s sign, and for something to pass the time, she parked the Rolls and went into the agent’s office. She talked to a smooth-looking Swiss who said he would be able to sell the villa without trouble. He had a rich client who was looking for just such a place and her asking price was reasonable. Without regret, she told him she would give vacant possession in two weeks.

  Feeling more relaxed, she had a grilled steak at the Eden Hotel, then drove back to the villa.

  As she was approaching the entrance to the villa, she was surprised to see a policeman in brown uniform on a motorcycle come down the drive. He swept by her, his white helmet glittering in the moonlight.

  She garaged the car, and then walked up the steps as Hinkle opened the front door.

  “What was that policeman doing here?” she asked sharply.

  Hinkle’s face was expressionless as he said, “I forgot to register at the Commune, madame. It is now in order. Did you have a satisfactory day?”

  “All right.” She walked into the living-room. “I have put the villa on the market. As soon as Mr. Grenville has returned, we will leave for Paradise City. I want you to stay on here, to get rid of the furniture, and to see the sale through. Will you do that?”

  “Certainly, madame.”

  She smiled at him.<
br />
  “You are so reliable, Hinkle. Once this place is sold, I want you to come back and arrange everything for the wedding.”

  “I am at your service, madame.” There was a sad look in Hinkle’s eyes that disturbed her.

  “It will be all right, won’t it, Hinkle?”

  “Let us hope so, madame. Is there anything I can get you?”

  She looked at the clock on the overmantel. It was now at 21.15. She had fourteen more hours to wait before Archer arrived.

  “No. I’ll go to bed.” She looked at him. “Be patient with me, Hinkle. I keep thinking of him; what he is doing, how those awful people are treating him.”

  “I understand, madame.”

  She put her hand on his arm.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you, Hinkle.”

  Leaving him, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. Hinkle locked up, secured the shutters, and then went to his quarters. On his bed lay a bulky envelope that the policeman had delivered.

  Putting on his glasses, and tearing open the envelope, Hinkle sat down to read what Jean Faucon had sent him.

  * * *

  Helga was awake when Hinkle wheeled in the coffee trolley. She had come awake soon after 07.30.

  The three sleeping pills had seen her through the night, and now awake, she was no longer apprehensive.

  Archer would arrive. She would telephone her bank, instructing them to pay two million dollars into Archer’s account. Presumably, sometime in the afternoon, he would check his bank to make certain the money had arrived, then she would have Chris back! She lay dreaming for an hour, thinking of Chris, feeling his hands on her body, thinking of the moment when they would fly off together to Paradise City and this horrible nightmare would be over.

  As Hinkle poured the coffee, he said, “I trust you slept well, madame?”

  She smiled.

  “Pills, Hinkle.” She drew in a deep breath. “Some time tonight he will be back! I want you to pack my things. Tomorrow, he and I will fly to Paradise City.”