Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  “I’ll wear my wet suit,” I said.

  “What time is dinner?” he asked.

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “I’ll grab a shower and change.”

  “No rush,” I said. I went back inside, took a joint from the drawer and gave it to him. “This is dynamite shit. Skip the shower and smoke this in the bath. It’s beautiful.”

  He took the joint and sniffed it. “Thanks. I’ll call the office first and make sure they get him down here on the morning flight.”

  Lonergan and Verita came back a few moments after he’d left. “Care for a drink?” I asked as the butler appeared.

  “Dry martini,” Lonergan said.

  “Tequila,” Verita ordered.

  I looked at her. “I thought you were a scotch drinker.”

  “We’re in Mexico.” She smiled. “I’m home now.”

  The butler brought the drinks and disappeared. Lonergan sat down opposite me; Verita took the lounge chair next to him. “We just strolled around the place,” Lonergan said.

  “What do you think?”

  “They spent the money all right,” he answered. “There’s no doubt about it. But Verita came up with something interesting I thought you should hear.”

  I turned toward her. “Yes?”

  “I spent all afternoon talking to the personnel. You learn a lot more that way. They know things even the owners don’t.”

  I nodded.

  “They have an opinion on why the place didn’t make it.”

  “I’m interested.”

  “The gays put it away.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Dieter brought his international crowd down. They really took over the place. So much so that when he asked them to cool it, they turned on him and laid a heavy rap on the hotel. And you know that crowd. They practically run the jet set. If they approve, society comes running, like Capri, like Acapulco, like the South of France. If they say it’s démodé, you drop dead. Like Patino’s place down the coast and Porto Cervo, Aga Khan’s resort in Sardinia.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Why should Dieter sit on them? After all, they were his friends.”

  “One of the stories I heard was that some rich queen stole his steady and that it made him angry.” She licked some salt from the back of her hand and took a sip of the tequila. “Another story is that his father made him push them out. He wants Dieter to marry and carry on the family name. He’s got the girl picked out, a second cousin or something.”

  “Is her name Marissa?”

  Verita nodded. “That’s the name they mentioned. She works up in the office. You met her?”

  “Yes. Dieter assigned her to be my translator. I told her that you were with me and that I wouldn’t need her. But I asked her to join us for dinner.”

  “I thought you were sleeping,” Lonergan said.

  I laughed. “That was before I took a nap. I went for a swim. When I came out of the water, there she was.”

  “You’ll never get the money crowd back now,” Lonergan said.

  “That’s good,” I replied. “Because it means von Halsbach has no place else to go. We’re the only game in town and if they lose us, they go into the sewer.” I went behind the bar and refilled my glass. “The deal I was going to offer them just went down by fifty percent.”

  “You were going to offer them nine million?”

  “No. That’s half of what they were asking. I was going to offer them twelve. Now it’s six.”

  “Something else I think you ought to know,” Lonergan said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I just heard from my office. There’s some talk around that Julio has a big part of the action down here.”

  “Any proof?”

  He shrugged. “That airstrip is just a short hop from Culiacán.”

  I knew what he meant. Culiacán was the drug center of Mexico. Almost every shipment of dope that came into the United States from Mexico either originated there or was transshipped from that point. “Any chance our hosts are in on it?”

  “I have no way of knowing.”

  I pulled at my drink and looked at Verita. “You’re going over the books tomorrow?”

  “Murtagh said everything would be ready for me.”

  “Okay. Keep your eyes and ears open. If there is anything that doesn’t make sense, no matter how trivial it may seem, let me know.”

  Dieter and his father were waiting at the bar when we came up to the main building. Slim and only slightly shorter than his son, the count was in his early sixties, with crew-cut iron-gray hair, sharp, hard blue eyes and a dueling scar on his left cheek. If he’d had a monocle, he would have been straight out of a 1940s Warner Brothers movie.

  “I have been looking forward to our meeting, Mr. Brendan,” he said in soft Mayfair English. “I have heard a great deal about you.”

  “Good, I hope.”

  He smiled. “Of course. Here we listen to nothing but good about people.”

  “It’s the only way to live,” I said. My remark didn’t seem to register. “Thank you for the accommodations. They’re lovely.”

  “It is our pleasure. I only hope you will be able to spend enough time with us really to enjoy it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  His eyes brightened as Marissa came toward us. The Indian-looking girl I had met that afternoon had disappeared. In her place was a tall, aristocratic lady in a long, clinging white dress that set off the tanned skin of her body and the black hair that fell below her shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “My niece, the Baroness Marissa,” he said proudly.

  “We’ve already met,” she informed him, holding her hand out to me. “Mr. Brendan.”

  “Baroness,” I said, smiling.

  She let go of my hand as she turned to the others. A moment later we followed the count to the patio, where our table had been set up under a large tree. Marissa sat between the count and me and I could not tell whether the perfume I smelled came from her or from the scented air of the garden.

  Dinner was European, very formal and very dull. All the right things were spoken, but nothing was said. In contrast with our table, Bobby, the models and his assistants were having a ball. I could tell from the shouts of laughter that they had managed to find their own source of supply. They all were stoned.

  Lonergan and the old count seemed to find common ground. Maybe it was their age, but my uncle seemed genuinely to enjoy the dinner and the stories the count had to tell. I was so bored I couldn’t take it any longer and finally pleaded a bad headache and retreated to the bungalow.

  The first thing I did was light up a joint. Then I sat down on the patio and stared up into the night sky. There seemed to be more stars than I had ever seen before. I wondered if anyone out there in that limitless night was getting stoned and thinking the same thoughts.

  I heard the creak of the wrought-iron gate. Marissa’s white dress floated like a soft cloud in the darkness. “I came to see how you were,” she said.

  “I didn’t know you were a baroness.”

  “I’m not really. But my uncle takes great pleasure in introducing me that way.”

  “Here, have a toke,” I said, holding out the joint.

  “No, thanks. That stuff makes me crazy.”

  I laughed. “If I had to stay down here, I’d go crazy without it.”

  “My uncle is very old-fashioned.”

  “Whatever got him into this? It seems so out of character.”

  “He felt he had to do something. He owns all the land. And the government kept complaining that if something wasn’t done they would break up his holdings and distribute them among the campesinos.”

  “That’s no excuse to blow thirty million dollars.”

  “He put in the land and about six million. The government put in ten and the rest came from private investors.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are they Mexican or foreign?” />
  “I don’t know.”

  “He would have been better off if he had brought some people down from Las Vegas.”

  She didn’t answer.

  I took another toke and patted the chair beside me. “Come, sit down.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Did you come up here on your own or did Dieter send you?”

  She hesitated a moment. “Dieter.”

  “Did he also happen to tell you that fucking me is part of your job?”

  Again she didn’t answer.

  “What happens if they don’t make a deal with me?”

  “The government has threatened to foreclose on them. They will lose everything.”

  “Thirty million dollars is a heavy trip to lay on you. It’s really not fair.”

  She raised her arms behind her neck under her long black hair. When she put them down, the dress slipped from her body. She stepped out of it and stood naked in front of me. Now I knew the source of the perfume I had smelled in the garden.

  I looked at her without moving. “You’re beautiful,” I said. And she was.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  I leaned forward, picked up the dress from the ground and held it out to her. “You could find me two aspirin. I really have a headache.”

  She took the dress from my hands and held it against her breasts. There was a puzzled sound in her voice. “You don’t want to—”

  I laughed. “I want to, all right. But that would be like taking money under false pretenses. I haven’t made up my mind about this place yet. So if we fucked and I didn’t buy, you would have wasted a fuck.”

  For the first time she laughed. She let go of the dress. “What’s a fuck between friends?” she asked.

  29

  The telephone rang at eight o’clock in the morning. I reached for the telephone. Through the door leading to the bathroom, I could see Marissa’s shadow on the glass shower door and hear the splashing of the water. “Unh,” I grunted into the phone.

  “Sounds like you had a big night,” Eileen said.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “While you’re down there having a good time, I want you to know that some people in the organization are working.”

  “We’ll have to correct that. It’s ruining our image. The world thinks we do nothing but party.”

  “I’ll be on the next plane,” she said teasingly. “But meanwhile, I thought you’d like some good news.”

  “Tell me.”

  “We just got the circulation figures for January, February. We broke the three and a half million mark.”

  “How about that?”

  “That isn’t all. Lifestyle Digest went to a million one. That’s not bad.”

  “What are we doing wrong?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d better make sure we keep on doing it.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s it like down there?”

  “I don’t know yet. Verita’s getting into the books today and I’m taking the grand tour.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re thinking of taking on a resort complex. The two magazines are making nothing but money.”

  “I remember people saying that when I went into the clubs. Meanwhile, the London club alone is throwing off six million a year.”

  “That’s because it has gambling. New York, Chicago and Los Angeles are lucky to break even.”

  “We need them for our image. We’ll have gambling in Atlantic City and this place has a gambling license.”

  “If that’s what you want, why don’t you go into Vegas?”

  “I’m waiting for an opening. Meanwhile, the travel agency and packaged tours are getting a lot of action. I can fill this place right out of our own agency.”

  “How are you going to get the people there with only two commercial flights a day?”

  “I’ll have a charter service from LA. Plus which, the Princess Lines will make it a stop on their cruise.”

  “Put it all together and it’s still chicken shit compared to what the magazines bring in. They’re netting almost three million a month.”

  “Eileen. Such language.”

  “I’m serious. Why?”

  I thought for a moment. “It’s the action.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “Maybe someday, when you have some time, we’ll go into it.” Her voice grew soft. “I miss you.”

  The phone went dead in my hand before I could answer. The lady was very good. She knew exactly where it was at. There was no heat, no pressure. She let it happen in its own time. And time was on her side. We both knew that. Sooner or later I would be there.

  Marissa came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a big Turkish towel sarong. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “I think so.”

  “That’s good.” She crossed to the dresser and opened the small purse she’d brought with her. A moment later she was wearing a tiny bikini. She saw me watching her in the mirror. “It would look silly if I went up to the main building in my evening gown.”

  I nodded.

  “Can I get you something?”

  “I could use some coffee.”

  “Right away.” She pressed a button near the door. “Anything else?”

  I got out of bed and started for the bathroom. At the door I turned and looked back at her. “Don’t be so formal, Baroness. I thought we were supposed to be friends. I’d hate to think you were just doing your job.”

  When I came out of the bathroom, I saw that a small table had been rolled onto the terrace beyond the sliding glass doors. It was set with yellow linen napkins and tablecloth and there was a single yellow rose in a silver bud vase. The breakfast was continental—orange juice, coffee, hot rolls and croissants.

  Marissa heard my footsteps and turned from the railing, where she had been looking out at the sea. “I owe you an apology,” she said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No. I didn’t mean to be so stiff. It’s just that—I’ve never done anything like this before. I felt awkward. I didn’t know what to say.”

  “You’ve said all the right things. Just as long as we’re still friends.”

  She smiled. “We’re friends. Coffee?”

  “Black, please.”

  I took the cup from her hand. It was thick and strong. “What’s on the program for today?”

  “Dieter will be waiting in the main building at ten o’clock to show you around.”

  “Will you be with us?”

  “I don’t think so. I have work to do. But there’s a cocktail reception for you at seven this evening. All the local officials are coming to meet you. I’ll be there.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “I’ll be there if you want me.”

  “I want,” I said. “And this time bring something else to wear back to the hotel in the morning. I think it’s just as silly to show up in the office in a bikini as in an evening gown.”

  The grand tour lasted until noon. By then the sun was so hot that even the ocean breeze coming through the open canvas-topped jeep gave no relief. Dieter did the driving and I sat next to him. Lonergan was in the back. Several times I glanced back at my uncle. If he was uncomfortable, he gave no sign of it in spite of the fact that he was the only one wearing a suit and tie. Still, I could sense that he was glad to get into the air-conditioned hotel.

  We headed toward the bar. Lonergan ordered his usual dry martini. I decided on a gin and tonic and Dieter took tequila. We had covered two golf courses—one eighteen holes, the other nine—twelve tennis courts, a forty-horse riding stable and seventeen bungalows. All that was left to see was the main building.

  “There are one hundred and eighty suites in this building,” Dieter said. “Each with a bedroom, living room, bar-kitchen and two baths. They were designed with every luxury in mind. At an average of two hundred dollars a day per suite we estimated break-even at forty percent occupancy.
”

  Lonergan nodded. “According to your figures, you averaged no better than fifteen percent.”

  “Truthfully,” Dieter said, “we averaged less.”

  “What’s capacity?” I asked.

  “At two persons per suite and four per bungalow, four hundred twenty-eight.”

  “Then at an average rate of one hundred dollars a day per guest you figured break-even at sixteen thousand a day?”

  Dieter nodded. “That included all meals.”

  “And if meals were not included?”

  “Ten thousand, but you have to give them a continental breakfast. It’s part of our license with the government. That’s figured in the ten thousand.”

  “Can the suites be converted into individual double rooms?”

  “Yes. We thought about doing it, but we were not in a position to invest another million dollars in the changeover.”

  “I see.” I signaled the bartender for another drink. “Why do you think the hotel didn’t make it?”

  “There are two reasons,” Dieter said quickly. “The first is that the airlines did not keep their promise to increase the number of flights down here. The second is that the government won’t let us open the casino until after the elections, despite having issued us the gambling license last year.”

  “What makes you so sure they’ll give their permission now?”

  “They don’t want us to close. They have too much money invested.”

  “Do you have the commitment in writing?”

  He smiled. “This is Mexico. Nothing is ever in writing. And even if it were, it would mean nothing.”

  “Then they could still withhold it?”

  “Anything is possible, though I doubt it. But you will be able to judge for yourself. The governor of the state will be at the cocktail party this evening. So will the jefe of the treasury department from Mexico City. They are the ones who will decide.”

  The telephone at the end of the bar rang. The barman nodded to Dieter. “Para usted, excelencia.”

  Dieter took the telephone, said a few words, then put it down. “The official plane from Mexico City is arriving at the airstrip and I must go to meet them. If you gentlemen will excuse me?”