1977 - I Hold the Four Aces (15 page)

Later, Grenville, who was listening intently, heard Hinkle close the kitchen door and walk off to his room at the far end of the villa.

“Let’s look at the film.”

They went into the living-room and Grenville turned on the TV set.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” and he went out into the lobby, closing the living-room door. It took him only a few moments to draw the bolts, undo the safety chain and unlock the front door. Then he went into the toilet and flushed the cistern. He looked at his watch. Another hour!

He returned to Helga’s side, his heart beginning to thump, and stared sightlessly at the lighted screen.

All he could think of was that in an hour, an explosion would occur that would alter his whole way of life.

Fortunately, the film had a grip, and Helga was interested. She was completely relaxed, holding Grenville’s hand, lying back in her chair, only one lamp to light the big room.

On the overmantel was an illuminated clock, and Grenville kept looking at it.

As the hands of the clock moved to 23.00, the door jerked open and two men, wearing hoods, guns in hands, burst into the room.

chapter six

A
rcher looked at his strap watch. The time was exactly 23.00. At this moment, he thought, Segetti and Belmont would be entering Helga’s villa.

The two men had arrived at Archer’s rented villa at 22.15 as arranged. They had shown him the two black leather hoods and two automatic pistols. Archer, who had served in the Army, knew about small arms and he examined both pistols, making sure they were unloaded. He again emphasized there was to be no violence.

“Rather than that drop the plan,” he said. “You will be paid just the same. Do you understand?”

Segetti, grinning, said there would be no problem.

“And bring my friend back here. Don’t speed. We don’t want trouble with the police,” Archer went on.

When they had gone, he paced the small living-room, his eyes continually on his watch. If all went well, they should be back with Grenville by 23.30. If all went w e l l .

Archer’s suitcase was packed. He was ready for a quick take-off if something did go wrong. When dealing with a woman like Helga, one just couldn’t be sure. On the face of it, providing Grenville had really sunk a hook into her, she would pay up, but there was this steel in her that Archer had already encountered that made him wary of her.

He thought back to the time when he had tried to blackmail her and she had trapped him in a cellar of the Castagnola villa. Even when he thought he had had the last laugh on her, she had beaten him, and from that moment, he had become one of the shabby, fringe people, always scratching for money.

His face hardened. When Grenville arrived, and when he had been assured the kidnapping had succeeded, Archer intended to call on Helga. It would be his moment of triumph, and he would take his revenge for what she had done to him.

Again he looked at his watch. 23.20. By now, if all had gone well, they would be on their way back.

He thought of Hinkle. There could be a dangerous man! He had met him from time to time when Hinkle had been Herman Rolfe’s personal servant, and he knew that Hinkle had disliked him, and that in spite of Hinkle’s deceptive appearance he had as much steel in him as Helga had, and that was why Hinkle had come to admire Helga so much. They were two of a kind.

Was that the sound of a car approaching? Archer went quickly to the front door and opened it. The headlights of a car made pools on the road, but the car drove past. It was a warm evening, and the moon rode high. Breathing unevenly, Archer stood on the doorstep, waiting and listening. Several cars passed, then he saw the Mercedes. He drew in a sharp breath as the car pulled up outside the villa.

Grenville was the first to get out of the car. He came quickly up the path.

“All right?” Archer asked, a little breathlessly. “Perfect.” Grenville laughed. “Couldn’t have been better!”

“Go inside. I’ll take care of these two,” Archer said, suddenly feeling ten feet tall.

Segetti and Belmont came slowly up the path. Archer wanted to be rid of them. Hurriedly, he took six one-thousand franc bills from his pocket.

“Any trouble?” he asked as Segetti approached.

“No, sir,” Segetti said. “Jacques gave your message. The lady seemed impressed. No problem.”

“All right. Here’s your money. Forget about this,” Archer said. “Now get off to Geneva.”

Segetti paused to count the bills in the light of the moon, nodded, then said, “Okay, sir. We’ll go.”

Archer watched them climb into the VW and drive away, then going into the living-room, he found Grenville sitting in an armchair, smiling.

“It was a beautiful job,” Grenville said.

Archer opened a bottle of whisky he had bought on the way to the villa and poured drinks.

“Tell me about it.”

Grenville sipped his drink.

“I got rid of Hinkle around nine o’clock. Fortunately, there was a good film on television so I suggested Helga and I should watch it. While she was settling herself, I went out into the lobby and unlocked the front door. She thought I was taking a leak. At exactly eleven o’clock, just as the film was finishing, these two burst in. They were impressive.” Grenville laughed. “For a moment, they startled me. You should have seen what they did to Helga. She flipped her lid. One of them told her it was a snatch and she would get a ransom note tomorrow. He was really very convincing. He had a voice that could cut up rusty iron. He just yelled at h e r . frankly, he rather shook me. He was really very convincing.” Grenville laughed again. “He said if she called the police, did anything until she was contacted, she wouldn’t see me again. She just sat there turned to stone. I started protesting, but they shoved me around a little, and then, with a gun stuck in my back, they hustled me out. It was all over in five minutes.” He drew in a long, deep breath. “Now I’m free! You know, Jack, she really was getting too much for me.”

“Never mind that,” Archer said sharply. “Are you sure you really have a hook in her, Chris? This is vitally important. If you haven’t, she could call the police.”

Neither of the men knew nor even suspected that as soon as the VW had rounded the bend in the road, Segetti had slammed on his brakes, and Belmont, acting on Bernie’s orders, raced back to the rented villa. Moving like a shadow, he went around to the back door, forced the flimsy lock with a small jemmy he had with him, and moved, silently, into the kitchen. The door stood ajar and the living-room door was also ajar. He was in time to hear Grenville say, “Hook in her? My dear chap, it’s not a hook, it’s a harpoon. I wish you could have seen her when those two shoved me out of the room. She looked stricken: old, faded. I really did a job on her,” and he laughed. “Believe it or not, we spent a dreary evening discussing our honeymoon plans!”

“Good! Excellent!” Archer rubbed his hands. “We are nearly home. Tomorrow, I will call on her. This is a meeting I have been dreaming of for many months. It will give me the greatest pleasure.”

“There’s one thing I want to talk to you about, Jack,” Grenville said, after a pause. “Two million dollars is a lot of money, and a lot of temptation.” He looked straight at Archer. “The money is going to be paid into your Swiss account. What guarantee have I got that I shall get my share?”

Archer stared at him, shocked. Had he come so low that a worthless gigolo didn’t trust him?

Angrily, he said, “Of course you will get your share! We are in this together: fifty-fifty.”

“That’s what you say,” Grenville returned, “but how can I be certain, and I want to be certain.”

Archer hesitated. He was aware of his shabbiness. He was shrewd enough to understand he made a poor picture of a man who could be trusted.

“What do you suggest, as obviously, you don’t trust me?” His voice was bitter.

“Don’t take this personally, Jack. Frankly, I would never trust anyone when two million is concerned, and I don’t suppose you would either. From now on, after you have seen her and arranged payment, we keep together,” Grenville said. “I’ll come with you to your bank and see you transfer my share to an account I will open with your people. Any objection?”

Archer shrugged.

“None at all. If that’s what you want, I will arrange it.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Consider it done,” Archer said. “To raise the money, Helga will have to sell stock. I will give her three days, but not a day more. While we wait, we will stay here. You must keep out of sight, Chris. I have stocked the refrigerator, and although this place isn’t a palace, it’s not too bad.”

“I’ll survive,” Grenville said and finished his whisky.

“Now there is a little matter I have to attend to.” Archer went to the sideboard and pulled open a drawer. From it, he took a polaroid camera. “I bought this on my way up.”

“What’s that for?” Grenville asked blankly.

“Manufacturing evidence,” Archer said, smiling. “And here is another little item I bought,” and from the drawer he produced a bottle of tomato ketchup.

“Good God! Have you gone crazy?” Grenville exclaimed.

“Not at all, my dear Chris.” Still smiling broadly, Archer waved the bottle before Grenville. “This little bottle of sauce is worth two million dollars.”

Belmont edged forward, moved into the lobby and peered into the living-room.

“It’s a little messy, Chris,” Archer went on, “but you must expect to make an effort for so much money. Let me dab some of this sauce on your face, then you will lie on the floor and I will take photographs. I assure you, when I show these photographs to Helga, she won’t hesitate to pay up. I know Helga. She loathes any kind of violence.”

Grenville threw back his head and laughed.

“What a wonderful idea! Go ahead.”

Feeling he had heard enough, Belmont silently left the villa and raced back to the VW. As he scrambled in, Segetti sent the little car fast down the hill.

* * *

Lucky Bellini owned a small shop, specializing in all kinds of Italian goods, in a back street off the Piazza Grande, Lugano. He lived above the shop with his fat wife, Maria. His eight children, all earning good livings, had long left home, and Lucky missed them, for he was a family man. Before the last of them left, Lucky had built, at the end of a small plot of land behind his store, a warehouse, and above, a big room which he had furnished with a bed, a table and some armchairs and had installed a shower and a toilet. This was used by his son who had ambitions to be a drummer in a Pop group, and the sound of drums was something that drove Lucky crazy.

It was in this room that he and Bernie talked. Some fifteen years ago, Lucky was a Mafia Don in Naples. He was now seventy-four and had been glad to retire, but once a Don always a Don. He knew Bernie to have solid connections with the Naples people, and anything he could do for Bernie was all right with him.

“Tell me about this Rolfe woman,” Bernie said, glancing at his watch. The time was 23.00: Segetti and Belmont should be going into action. “She interests me.”

Lucky, who always kept his ear to the ground, became informative. He said Helga Rolfe had inherited Rolfe’s millions, and was now the top shot of the Rolfe Electronic Corporation. In her own right, she was worth around sixty to eighty million dollars, give or take. She had hot pants, and had it off from time to time with hotel waiters, barmen, and especially Italians.

“Since Rolfe died,” Lucky went on, “she’s quietened down as far as I know. She has now taken up with a fancy man who calls himself Christopher Grenville. They are staying together at the Helios villa.”

“Who is this fink?”

“Grenville? He’s English, looks loaded, but that’s probably a front. I’ve no information about him except I hear he has been living in Germany for some time.”

“Know anything about Jack Archer?” Bernie asked.

Lucky nodded.

“He used to look after Rolfe’s money. He was once a big shot with a tax consultant firm in Lausanne and used to come here quite often when Rolfe lived at Helios. Then suddenly, he didn’t come any more. I heard he got into trouble, dipping his fingers into Rolfe’s money, but I don’t know for sure. There was also talk he used to screw Rolfe’s wife, but that could also be talk.”

Bernie considered this information, then nodded.

“Okay, Lucky. Go to bed. I’ll be fine here.” He patted Lucky’s shoulder. “I’ve got a pot on the stove. When it comes to the boil, I’ll see you get a cut.”

Lucky grinned.

“With all my kids, I need a little extra, Bernie. Stay here as long as you like. When you want something to eat - coffee, whisky, anything - use the telephone. I’ll bring it to you.” He was under the impression that Bernie was in trouble with the police and needed a hide-out. Bernie, reading his thoughts, didn’t disillusion him.

“Fine, Lucky. I could have a couple of friends here too. That be okay?”

“Everything is okay with you, Bernie, as long as they don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“They won’t.”

The two men shook hands, and Lucky descended the stairs and walked heavily back to his apartment.

He told his wife that maybe Bernie was in trouble, and she would have to supply him with food. His wife, five years younger than her husband, threw up her hands, but didn’t protest. For fifty years now, anything Lucky said to her had to be all right with her. She obeyed, and didn’t ask questions.

Bernie lay on the truckle bed and thought. Just before midnight, Segetti and Belmont climbed the stairs and joined him. They gave him a blow-by-blow account of the kidnapping, and then Belmont went on to describe what he had heard at the rented villa between Archer and Grenville.

“They are taking this broad for two million dollars!” Belmont said, his little black eyes glistening.

“Imagine!”

Bernie sneered.

“They are amateurs. This broad is worth sixty million if not more. In Rome, the other day, our people ransomed some fink for seven million dollars. Now here’s what we do.”

For the next half hour he talked, stabbing the air with a thick finger to emphasize every point he was making. When he had finished, he said, “Get the idea?”