1978 - Consider Yourself Dead (3 page)

Near the villa was the car park. A cream and brown Rolls Camargue sneered at a sky blue Lamborghini that, in its turn, sneered at a silver Benz.

As Frost parked the VW in bay 10, a tall, thin man, wearing a grey suit, dark blue slacks tucked into Mexican boots, came out of the shade and advanced towards him.

On his hip was a .38 police special. He wore an Australian style hat, the sides laced up.

As Frost got out of the car, the thin man joined him.

Steady, steel grey eyes set in a thin, hard face, surveyed Frost, then he thrust out his hand.

‘Jack Marvin.’

Frost shook hands.

‘Mike Frost.’

‘Suppose we walk around, and I’ll wise you up on the job?’ Marvin said. ‘The first thing you’ll want is a uniform like mine. I’ll tell you where to get it. I’ve already talked to the cops, and all you have to do is to go to the cop house for a gun permit. We have an armoury here, and you can take your pick. As you’ll be on duty at 20.00 tonight, there’s a bit of a hustle.’ He moved into the shade and led Frost down a narrow path, bordered by orchid trees, talking as he went. ‘This is an easy job. The security is more or less taken care of by electronics, but all the same, you have to be constantly on the alert. In the guardroom in the villa there is an alarm panel and TV scanners. Your job is to watch the alarm panel and the scanners, and keep watching. It’s a hell of a boring chore. I guess you spotted the electrified fence as you came in. Don’t go near it. It’s lethal. If some smart ass, using insulated cutters, opens a way in, an alarm alerts the cop house and shows on the panel in the guardroom. The island is completely enclosed by the fence. We don’t reckon to have trouble during the day. There are too many boats on the lagoon, and as you’ve seen, the entrance is well guarded. At 21.00, four Doberman Pinschers have the run of the island. They are killers: make no mistake about that. When on night shift, you stay in the guardroom. Don’t go out unless you want your throat torn out. The dogs know me. I let them out and lock them up when I come on duty during the day.’ They came out of the shade, and into the open by the fence at the back of the island. Frost could see the seawater canal ahead.

Already there were a number of motor cruisers and yachts roaming aimlessly. The crews were either fat old men and their fatter wives or lean young men with their dolls. The scene reeked of wealth. ‘Just along here,’ Marvin said, ‘is where the boats are kept.’ He moved on and reached a gate, overlooking a harbour in which floated a sixty-foot motor yacht, a Cris-craft and a dinghy with an outboard motor. Marvin waved to the boats. ‘All so much waste of money. No one uses them, but they are there, if anyone wants to.’ He spat at the fence. ‘I guess all these rich punks on the estate have boats, so we have boats too.’

Leaving the harbour, he led Frost towards the villa.

Frost was absorbing the scene, missing nothing. Finally, they came to the villa, and Marvin led Frost along a broad sandy lane until they paused before an oak, nail studded door.

‘This leads to the guardroom,’ Marvin said, producing a key. He unlocked the door and Frost followed him into a large, air-conditioned room. There was a battery of TV sets against a wall. By them was a big panel covered with red, yellow and green lamps. On another wall was a gun rack. The arsenal was impressive: two shotguns, two automatic rifles, a tear gas exploder and a range of handguns.

A table and two chairs occupied the centre of the room.

Two lounging chairs stood before the TV sets.

‘Here’s where you work nights,’ Marvin said, closing the door. ‘You sit in one of those chairs and watch the panel and the monitors. You keep awake. Joe went to sleep, and Old Creepy caught him. If you want to stay with this job, you don’t go to sleep. You have the night shift this week, I take it next week.’ He went to a big closet, opened it to reveal a refrigerator. From it he took two cans of beer, gave one can to Frost and waved him to a chair.

Frost sat down, saluted Marvin and drank.

‘Old Creepy? Frenzi Amando? Solomon mentioned him.’

Marvin nodded and sat down.

‘Right. The original sonofabitch. I like this job. The bread’s fine. The conditions are good. Wait until you see your living quarters: very, very nice. I’ve been here now for three months, but old Creepy spoils the scene. There have been times when I’ve nearly banged his rat teeth through the back of his neck. He looks for trouble. The sonofabitch loves trouble. He loves waving his power.’ Marvin drank from the can. ‘So if you want to keep this job, and it’s worth keeping, watch it with Amando.’

‘Solomon said there was a snatch threat,’ Frost said.

‘Right?’

‘That’s the reason for this operation.’ Marvin took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered it.

They lit up. ‘I’ll put you in the photo. Grandi - he’s the boss - has lots of dollars. Just to give you an idea, if he lost five million, it would be the same as you losing twenty cents, and I’m not kidding. Five months ago, when he was in Rome, an attempt was made to kidnap his daughter. Let me tell you about her. She’s young, something to look at, spoilt, a bit of a hellion, and until this kidnap attempt, had the run of Rome. Grandi is besotted with her. The kidnap attempt scared the crap out of him. It ended with four thugs getting killed and two cops died later. Grandi decided to get his daughter out of Italy. He rented this place, fixed the security and the daughter now lives here.’ Marvin grimaced. ‘I’m sorry for her. She is virtually a prisoner. She never leaves the island. She has swimming in the pool, two new movies a week, and TV, but that is a hell of a bore after living wild in Rome. Grandi visits her every six weeks. Old Creepy makes sure she remains on the island, and makes sure you and I do our job.’ He looked at Frost. ‘Got the photo?’

Frost waved to the TV monitors and the panel.

‘So all I have to do is sit tight here and watch? Suppose the red comes up?’

Marvin pointed to a door.

‘That leads into the living quarters of the villa. You don’t use it unless the red goes up. If it does, you grab an automatic rifle and go to the bottom of the stairs, leading to the sleeping quarters. You stay right there so no one gets up to Gina’s room - that’s the daughter. When the red light goes up, the cophouse is alerted, and within a couple of minutes, the cops arrive.’

‘And the dogs tear them apart.’

‘The dogs are well trained. If they haven’t already fixed any intruder, then another red light goes up. There is an electronically controlled whistle that only the dogs can hear, and when they hear it, they go back to their compound and the gate automatically shuts. Give or take, five minutes, you’ll have the cops in your lap, and I’ll be around too.’

‘Sounds as if I’m going to earn my bread the easy way.’

‘Sounds like it, doesn’t it? The trick is always to be alert so Old Creepy doesn’t stick a knife into you, and don’t kid yourself it’s easy to stay alert through a long, dull night.’

Frost shrugged.

‘I’ve had worse jobs. Talking about jobs, did Joe Solomon fix you here?’

Marvin shook his head.

‘I don’t give ten percent of what I earn to a smart shyster. I was a State trooper for fifteen years. My wife and I fell out.’ He took a drink and grimaced. ‘I guess we got married too young. On my own, I found it was no fun being a cop in a rented bungalow. I got talking to Tom Lepski, a good friend of mine. He’s a first grade detective at the cophouse. He told me about Grandi needing a bodyguard. I sold myself to Old Creepy and got the job, and I fixed Joe Davis, a buddy of mine, to be second guard. I earn eight hundred a week. I have a cabin to live in with a Jap to take care of me. All meals - and good ones - are provided.’ He grinned. ‘As long as it lasts, it’s the best.’

Frost mentally noted that Marvin didn’t belong to the ‘fast buck’ people. They finished their beers, then Marvin got to his feet.

‘I’ll show you your cabin.’

Frost followed him around the back of the villa, past a vast swimming pool, equipped with lounging chairs and a bar where a small Japanese, in a white coat, was rinsing glasses. He eyed Frost, then bowed to him.

‘That’s Suka. He looks after us,’ Marvin said, without stopping. He went down a narrow path. They hadn’t gone far before they heard the savage, spine-chilling sound of barking dogs.

Around a bend in the lane, they came upon a wired-in compound where four enormous Doberman Pinschers stood in a threatening row, barking and snarling.

‘Wrap up!’ Marvin shouted at them, and the dogs immediately became silent, their eyes on Frost.

‘Keep clear of them,’ Marvin said. ‘They are killers.’

Frost believed him.

Passing the compound, they came on two wooden cabins.

‘This is yours. The one next is mine.’

Marvin pushed open a door, and they entered a big living room, comfortably furnished, plus a TV set and a stereo radio, then through to a big bedroom, a well-equipped bathroom and kitchenette.

‘Nice, huh?’

Frost looked around. It was more than nice: it was luxe.

‘Just one thing to remember,’ Marvin said, his expression serious. ‘No women here, even if you could smuggle a woman in which you can’t.’

Frost nodded, thinking what a hell of a waste of a luxe cabin.

‘I hear you,’ he said.

‘When you are on day shift, which will be next week, you clock off at 20.00, then your time’s your own, but you must be back here by 02.00, that’s danger time, but be back before, in case Old Creepy checks.’

‘How about transport?’

‘There’s a T.R.7 in the garage. We share it.’

‘So I drive back late and get chewed up by the dogs.’

Marvin grinned.

‘No problem. You keep the car windows closed and drive straight into the garage. The door is electronically controlled. Maybe the dogs will bark around the car, but they have been trained not to enter the garage. When the door shuts, you get out, and there’s a door from the garage into your cabin.’

‘Quite a setup.’

‘I guess.’ Marvin shoved his hat to the back of his head. ‘Well, Mike, you’d better get your uniform, and then go to the cophouse for your pistol permit. Harris on Trueman Avenue will fit you out. He knows what you’ll want. Get back here around 19.00. We’ll have dinner together in the guardroom. You won’t complain about the food. You take what comes, but it’s always good. I guess that’s it. I’ll get back on the job. See you,’ and nodding, he left.

Frost drove the VW to the outfitters and came away with three sets of uniform and an Australian style hat.

Then he went to the policehouse and picked up his pistol permit, then he drove to the Sea Motel, settled his check, got a taxi and was driven back to the Grandi estate.

He felt relaxed and happy. He thought of Marcia. She had done him a good turn. At six hundred a week and all found, on the face of it, the job appeared to be a beautiful steal.

Long may it last, he thought as the taxi took him towards Paradise Largo. Man! Am I on the gravy train!

Gravy train?

He was to find out later how wrong he could be.

Tough as he was, money conscious as he was, if he could have looked into a crystal ball and seen what was coming, he would have got the hell out of Paradise City on the first available plane.

Two

F
rost looked at his strap watch. The time was 01.15. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and yawned again. He should have gone to bed early the previous night, he told himself, instead of lying on the beach until midnight. He had another seven hours before Marvin relieved him. It had been a mistake to have eaten that excellent, but heavy meal of beef fillet cut in fine slices and done in some rich sauce. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk three bottles of beer.

The four colour TV monitors had a soporific effect. The pictures kept changing, showing various parts of the island, mostly dense foliage. A couple of times, he caught sight of a dog, but the rest was green and trees. He felt his head fall forward and he jerked himself upright.

If you want to keep this job, don’t go to sleep.

Well, he had been warned. Making an effort, he got to his feet and began to walk around the room. He told himself he had better not sit down again, but grimaced at the thought of pacing up and down for the next seven hours.

He paused and took in several deep breaths of the air-conditioned air. Then crossing over to the conditioner, he turned it fully on. The sudden blast of cold air cleared his head. He stood before the machine, breathing deeply, then with enough cold air in his lungs, he became alert.

Leaving the machine at maximum, he walked over to the gun rack and took down one of the automatic rifles.

He checked the magazine. The rifle was ready for instant use. As he was balancing the weapon in his big hands, his sensitive ears, long trained in jungle fighting, picked up a faint sound.

He looked across the room at the door leading into the villa. He saw the door handle was turning.

Now fully alert, he moved swiftly and silently to one of the big lounging chairs, dropped on one knee, the rifle aimed at the door, his body half concealed by the chair.

The door edged open without sound.

‘Stay right where you are or you’ll get lead in your gut,’ Frost snarled in his cop voice.

There was a pause, then a voice said, ‘This is Mr. Amando.’

Frost grinned. Old Creepy had nearly caught him napping!

‘Push the door open and stay where you are,’ he snapped.

The door swung fully open. Standing in the doorway was a thin man of medium height, wearing a white tuxedo, a blood red bow tie and midnight blue trousers.

Frenzi Amando was nudging fifty years of age. He had a skull-like face, topped by thick sable-coloured hair. His parchment-like skin was tight over symmetrical features: high forehead, deepset black eyes, a long, pinched nose, an almost lipless mouth and an aggressive chin. Frost told himself he had never seen a more menacing character: something right out of a horror film.

Slowly, Frost lowered the rifle and stood up. If he wanted to keep this job, he reminded himself, he had to play the right cards.