So there it was: an impossible task, but, at least, I now knew his blackmail conditions.
My voice husky, I said, 'I made it safe, and it remains safe. There is nothing I can do to make it unsafe. I assure you of that. The electronic devices, protecting the vault, are foolproof. It is no idle boast that this bank is the safest bank in the world. If you have to get even with Brannigan, you will have to dream up some other sick idea.'
Klaus looked down at his small hands.
'Fifteen years is a long time for a young, ambitious man like you, Mr. Lucas, to rot in jail. I know from experience. I assure you that unless you come up with a foolproof plan to break into that vault, I will send all the evidence I have against you to Sheriff Thomson, and you will not only be ruined in Sharnville, but you will most certainly get a life sentence.' He stood up. You have seven days, Mr. Lucas. At nine o'clock next Friday night, you will receive a telephone call. You will either say yes or no. If it is yes, then we will meet again. If it is no, the Sheriff will call on you.' He left the room, and Benny came in.
'Move with the feet, fink,' he said. 'Joe'll cart you home.'
During the drive back, it was impossible to think. The car rocked with strident beat music, going full blast from a cassette. As Joe drove, he kept shouting, ‘Yes, man! Yes, man! Dig-dig-dig!'
He pulled up outside my apartment and switched off the cassette. It was at that moment of silence that the full impact of my talk with Klaus hit me.
As I got out of the car, Joe leaned forward and caught hold of my arm.
'Use your head, Mr. Lucas,' he said earnestly. ‘You go along with the boss, and you'll be in the rich gravy, don't dig your own grave.'
I pulled free, and walked across the sidewalk, into my apartment block and rode up in the elevator.
As I was unlocking my front door, the door of the opposite apartment jerked open.
'Quick!' Glenda said breathlessly, and pushing by me, she ran into my living-room.
I moved inside, closed the door, then turned and faced her.
In black stretch-pants and a red T-shirt, she stood in the middle of the room. Her full breasts rose and fell with her laboured breathing. Her face was chalk white and her eyes were wild.
As we stared at each other, I heard, through the open window, a car start up and drive away.
chapter four
We sat side by side on the settee, my arm around her, her head against my shoulder. The yielding softness of her body against mine told me, as nothing else could do, how much I loved her. Her hands gripped mine. Her red hair was against my fading bruise.
The roar of the traffic, coming through the open window, the sound of Jebson's TV coming up from below, the whine of the elevator as it moved between floors made a background of noise I scarcely registered.
Her hands tightened their grip.
‘I feel so terrible!' she said. 'How was I to know I would find someone like you! Oh, Larry, I am so sorry!' She raised her face and her arm went around my neck. With her lips hard against mine, her tongue darting, Klaus faded from my mind. My fingers found the top of her stretch-pants, hooked in and pulled down. I peeled them off her as she gave a sighing moan.
We rolled off the settee on to the floor. My hands slid under her.
Arching her body, she received me, and my world exploded as she clutched and strained.
After what seemed a long period of time, I became aware of the sound of the church clock chiming ten: Heavy, sonorous strokes.
Then she caressed my face and rolled away from me, got up, leaving me lying there, satiated, aware now only of the smell of dust from the carpet, but utterly relaxed.
I heard water running in the bathroom. Forcing myself to my feet, I pulled on my slacks as she came out from the bathroom and walked slowly to the settee.
'A drink, Larry,' she said. 'A big one.'
I made two outsized whiskeys, and not bothering with ice, I came over and sat beside her. She drank the neat whisky in two gulps, then let the glass drop on the carpet.
'Larry, darling!' She turned to stare at me, her big eyes glittering. 'I love you! Please believe that!' She held up her hand. 'Don't say anything yet . . . just listen to me. I swear to you if I had had any idea what that devil was planning, I wouldn't have done what I did! I swear it to you! Please listen! Let me explain.'
I put my hand on hers.
‘You are in the same trap as I am. That's right, isn't it?'
'Oh, yes, but it is a different kind of trap.' She leaned back and closed her eyes. 'Larry, I am nothing. I have never ever been anything but nothing. I won't tell you about my background. God! It was sleazy. That's the only word. I ran away from my parents. For ten years, I had dozens of jobs, and they all finished up in some sordid bedroom with me fighting off the man who was employing me. A year ago, I got a job at a motel. What a job! There I met Alex. He had money. He ran a Caddy. When he offered marriage, I jumped at it . . . anything to get away from fumbling hands and slinging hash. In his crazy, vicious way he was madly in love with me. To me, he was a meal ticket, and nothing more. He had a big business, handling hot cars. I didn't care. I had kicked around long enough not to bother about which side of the law I was on. All I wanted was a shelter. Alex was crazy about golf. He taught me. We played every day. We had a nice bungalow. When he was working, I just slopped around. We had a coloured woman to clean. Then one day, he came back early, looking as if he had been run over by a truck. He was in a terrible state. His face was swollen, his eyes black, caked blood on his coat. He had been worked over. All his guts, and he had lots of guts, had drained out of him. He told me he and I had to work for Klaus. I didn't know what he was talking about, but the sight of him scared me. He said Klaus had visited him in his garage, and had said he wanted Alex and me to do a job for him. Alex told him to go to hell. Then three men walked in and nearly killed Alex. They beat him silly. They took Alex's guts from him like a surgeon takes out an appendix. He was now a fat, slobbering creature who horrified me. I said no one was going to tell me what to do, and I was leaving him. Then Benny and Joe walked in. While Alex sat crying, they gagged me and took the guts out of me with a strap. By the time they had finished, I was as craven as Alex.' She paused to pick up her fallen glass. 'I'll have another drink, Larry.'
Feeling cold and sick, I made her another whisky.
'That's how it was, Larry,' she said, and drank. 'Klaus has told you about his plan to break into the Sharnville bank?'
'He's told me.'
'He's a devil. Make no mistake about that. He found out you and Brannigan played golf together. He sent Joe to put water in Brannigan's gas tank so you and I could meet. His idea was for me to come to Sharnville with his phony reporting setup. He thought I could persuade you to tell me about the security of the bank.' She ran her fingers through her red hair. 'If only you had, Larry! Alex could be alive now.'
'He should have known,' I said.
She lifted her hands in despair.
'It was a long shot which didn't work. Then he told me he would blackmail you into giving him the information, and he told me what I had to do. With the threat of another beating, I hadn't the guts to refuse. I thought they would just take photographs of us making love, and that would be enough. I swear I had no idea that Alex would be involved, and they would murder him.' She looked directly at me.
‘You must hate me for what I have done to you, but if you had been beaten as I have, maybe you would understand.'
'Of course I don't hate you! I could never do that,' I said.
‘This is something we have to work out together. You are the one woman who has ever meant anything to me.' I took her hands in mine. 'I have seven days to say either yes or no. This has dropped on me like an avalanche. My mind isn't working properly, but let us look at the situation we are both faced with. Klaus plans to rob the bank, using me to tell him how to do it. He has enough evidence against me to send me to jail for life. That is his ace card, but I also have an ace card. I could go to B
rannigan, and tell him the whole story. He is, as Klaus has said, a righteous man, but he wouldn't stand for blackmail. I'm sure of that. He knows Klaus is a liar and a thief. He could use his power to nail Klaus, and get me off the hook. I would be finished in Sharnville, but at least, I wouldn't go to jail. We two could go somewhere, and I could begin again. As I see it right now, I must talk to Brannigan.'
Glenda closed her eyes and shivered.
'Have you forgotten you are dealing with a devil, Larry? A devil who didn't hesitate to kill Alex so he could blackmail you? We two won't go away together. How I wish it was as easy as that.' She paused, then went on, 'If you don't do what he wants, he is going to have me murdered as he had Alex murdered.'
I stared at her, not believing what I had heard.
‘Murdered? What do you mean?'
‘Klaus has already anticipated that you would go to Brannigan. Why do you think I am here, Larry? Why do you think he has allowed me to see you again? He told me to spell out the message. He will have me murdered so it will look as if you killed me as he made it look as if you killed Alex.'
Again, I felt as if a Siberian wind was blowing over me.
I was once again a mouse darting here and there to avoid the cat's claws.
'If we are going to escape from this trap, Larry,' Glenda went on, 'you must tell Klaus how to break into the bank, but this is up to you.' She got up and began to move around the room. 'He is a devil! I'm so frightened! I don't want to die, Larry! I want to share my life with you. I don't give a damn if we have no money . . . just so long as we are together. Do you really care if this bank is robbed? Every day banks are being robbed, and who cares? You have only to tell him how to do it, and we are free!'
I hesitated, staring at her.
'But, Glenda, I made it safe! You must understand! If Klaus breaks into that bank, everything I have worked for, my position in Sharnville, the years and years of grinding study goes into a puddle of mud.'
She put her hands to her eyes.
'All right, Larry. Yes, I understand, then my life takes second place.'
As if on cue, the front door burst open, and Benny and Joe came in. Joe caught hold of Glenda and jerked her to the open door. Benny moved up to me and gave me a shove with his open hand, sending me reeling.
'Okay, fink,' he said. 'You now know the photo. The next time you see this babe, she'll be a bloody mess unless you do what you're told,' and they left, hustling Glenda between them, and the door slammed behind them.
Unsteadily, I went to the window and watched them push Glenda into the Chevy, then watched them drive away.
I sat down. It was still a nightmare, and I longed for the moment when I woke up to find this hadn't happened: that this was only a terrifying dream.
The church clock struck eleven. Jebson's TV set suddenly snapped off. There was silence, except for the distant roar of the traffic and sitting still, I had to face the fact that this was no nightmare.
I heard Glenda's voice, shaking with panic: Do you really care if the bank is robbed?
I thought of Farrell Brannigan, and what he had done for me. I remembered what Dixon had said. Brannigan had no mercy for anyone who stepped out of turn. He was a righteous man. He would have no mercy for me if I went to him and told him this blackmail story. My immediate reaction had been to go to him, but now, thinking about it, I realized he would treat me as he had treated Klaus forty years ago.
It was hard for me to believe that Klaus would have Glenda murdered, but, I told myself, he had ruthlessly arranged her husband's murder. His threat could become a reality, and this was unthinkable.
You have only to tell him how to do it, and we're free!
I could submit to Klaus's blackmail and tell him how to break into the bank. I considered this. Only Brannigan, Manson and I knew of the soft underbelly of the bank's security. If Klaus succeeded in robbing the bank, Brannigan, Manson and I would come under the police searchlight Brannigan would be immediately discounted. The searchlight would then concentrate on Manson and myself. Brannigan would never have chosen Manson to manage the safest bank in the world unless he was sure Manson was above reproach. The police would probe into Manson's background. They would find, as I knew, he lived simply, and he was a dedicated banker, so the searchlight would concentrate on me. I was the one who had made the bank safe. I knew far better than Manson how the electronic gimmicks worked. These gimmicks were so safe, no thief could get into the bank without inside information. This information was held by Brannigan, Manson and myself.
When they had discounted Brannigan and Manson, they would select me as suspect No. 1.
I was being threatened by Klaus with a life sentence for murdering Marsh. According to Glenda, he would have her murdered, and make it seem I was her killer if I didn't cooperate with him. Yet if I did, and I broke down under police interrogation, I could still face a long jail sentence.
There must be a way out of this trap!
I had seven days.
In seven days, I had to come up with a solution to save myself!
Another Monday!
My desk was piled with work. The telephone bell constantly rang. Bill Dixon, calling from 'Frisco, came through with the final details of our new building.
'This is going to be a big one, Larry,’ he said excitedly. ‘They have approved the extra extension. We have really got to get off the pad.'
I listened, made notes, assured him I could handle my end of it and hung up. The pressure was such I couldn't even think of Klaus, but he was at the back of my mind, pushed into my subconscious, but ready to appear the moment I could pause to think.
Mary Oldham, my secretary, a plump, middle-aged woman who was efficiency itself, looked around my door.
'Sheriff Thomson, Mr. Lucas, asking for you.'
I stiffened, my heart skipping a beat as Thomson stalked into my office.
'Hi, citizen,' he said. 'Police business. You're busy. I'm busy, but police business is more than busy.'
'Okay, Joe, make it fast. What is it?'
The telephone bell rang, and I picked up the receiver. It was the builder's contractor. We talked costs for a couple of minutes, then I told him to talk to Bill Dixon, and hung up, 'What is it, Joe?' I asked impatiently.
'Glenda Marsh,' Thomson said. 'She's quit town. She's a phony.'
'What does that mean, and what has that to do with me?'
I forced myself to meet his probing eyes.
'This woman came here to do a reportage for The Investor . . . right?'
'So she told me,' I said.
‘Yeah. So she told me. She poked around, took photographs, had a date with me to photograph the jail, then didn't show, and has left town.' He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit up. 'The Investor is an important paper. So I asked myself why this woman should suddenly quit town. I contacted The Investor, and they tell me they don't know her and they don't employ freelance photographers. What do you make of that?'
I had to play this cool, and with an effort, I shrugged, waving my hand impatiently.
'Look, Joe, I'm up to my eyes in work. For all I know, and frankly, I don't give a damn, she was an opportunist. Lots of freelance journalists do the same thing - claiming they work for an important magazine to get interviews. Then they write up articles and try to sell them. It happens all the time.'
Thomson leaned forward to tap off his ash into my ash bowl.
‘Yeah, could be.' He sucked at his cigarette, then went on, 'I am the Sheriff of Sharnville. It is my job to protect this town. Sharnville has the safest bank in the world, and lots of wealthy citizens. It's my job to watch over them, and the bank. That's what I get paid for. When a woman like Marsh arrives on the scene, takes photographs, chats up our more wealthy citizens who, thinking she is representing The Investor, talk their fat heads off, because getting coverage in a magazine of that standing is a status symbol, and then when I find out she is a phony, I start looking for trouble. I've talked to a num
ber of our wealthy citizens, and learn they have been boasting to this woman about the money they stash away in the Californian National Bank.' He made a grimace. 'When you get a guy making big money, get him to drink a few martinis, let a pretty woman soft-talk him, he runs at the mouth.' His little cop eyes were like granite.
‘When she talked to you, did she ask you anything about the security of our bank?'
Keeping my face expressionless, I said, 'No, but she did ask me to give her an introduction to Manson, which I did.'
'I know that. I've already talked to Manson.' He kept staring at me. 'So she didn't ask you about the security of the bank? You know more about the security setup than Manson does, don't you?'
‘You can say that.' Then the telephone bell rang This gave me time to get my second wind. It was Bill Dixon asking about a computer I had ordered. I spent longer than necessary telling him the exact measurements and where the electric feed should be.
Thomson continued to sit, staring at me, but by the time I had finished talking to Bill I had steadied down.
‘Look, Joe, you can see I'm working under pressure,' I said. 'Mrs. Marsh didn't ask about the security of the bank. Is that all you want to know?'
'Just how safe is the security of the bank?' He showed no sign of going.
'As safe as could be.'
'Now, suppose a smart bunch of thieves decided to break into the bank. Do you think they could do it?'
This was now moving on to very thin ice. I must not commit myself. Klaus could force me to tell him how to make a breakin.
1977 - My Laugh Comes Last Page 6
