Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  “I don’t know. Every day? I’m really not a writer, you know.”

  “Who is?” the publisher asked. “At one time the major requisite for becoming a novelist seemed to be a GI background. Earlier, truck drivers were very popular. The way I see it, the only requirement for being a daily columnist is that you write interestingly and have something to say. Well, you say it simply and clearly.”

  Jeremy laughed. “If you want it simple you came to the right guy.”

  “Then you’ll consider it?”

  “I might, if I knew what the hell to write about.”

  “The conventions are coming up. Just for the hell of it why don’t you go to them both and send me a few columns on what goes on. Not for publication, you understand, just to try it out and see if maybe we can come up with the right formula.”

  Jeremy was intrigued. “I’ll give it a spin, but the chances are we’ll merely find out how wrong I am for something like this.”

  But his very first column proved how wrong he had been. After a frantic call from the publisher for permission to run it, which Jeremy gave with reluctant misgivings, the column appeared throughout the country the day the convention opened.

  It was headed: “A Foreign Country.”

  “Foreign countries all over the world are pretty much the same,” the first paragraph read. “The average man seems happy to see Americans and likes them very much. Only the politicians, hotel clerks, and taxicab drivers seem to hate us. Chicago is like any other foreign country.”

  Within a year the column was appearing three times a week in over two hundred newspapers.

  In Paris, the baron finished reading that first column in the European edition of The New York Times and pushed it across the breakfast table to Caroline. “Did you see this?”

  Caroline looked down at the paper and nodded. “Yes. I think it’s very clever.”

  “He’s an extremely bright young man.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “extremely.”

  “Very strange,” the baron said, his brow wrinkling, “we never heard from him after the dinner party.”

  “Denisonde received a lovely bouquet of roses and a thank-you note the next morning.”

  “I mean, he never called you or anything like that?”

  “No.” Then Caroline smiled her secret smile. Poor Papa, he was always at his most obvious when he thought he was being devious. She couldn’t resist teasing him.

  “Why, should he have?” she asked innocently.

  150

  The hand gently shook Amparo’s shoulder. “Perdón, Princesa. Your father is downstairs and wishes to see you.”

  Amparo felt the band around her temples tighten as she sat up in bed. There was a heavy taste still in her mouth. She looked sleepily at the anxious face of her maid. “My father?”

  “Sí, Princesa.” The maid cast a sideways glance at the naked young man on the bed beside her. “His excellency is very much in a hurry!”

  Amparo shook her head. Something had to be very wrong if her father came here this early in the morning. He had never done so before. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”

  “Sí, Princesa,” the maid replied and hurried out of the room.

  Amparo turned to the young man. “Stay here. I’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

  He nodded silently as she reached for the negligee lying across a nearby chair. Before her hand could reach it, however, the door opened again and el Presidente stomped in.

  “Excellency!” the young man cried out in terror, and leaped from the bed, to stand stiffly at attention.

  El Presidente brushed past him as if he did not exist. He stood at the side of the bed glaring down at Amparo. “I must talk to you immediately!”

  She held the negligee over her breasts as she looked first at her father, then at the young man. “Jorge, don’t be such a fool! There is nothing more ridiculous than a naked soldier trying to stand at attention. Get out!”

  Frantically the young man gathered up his clothes and fled. When the door had closed behind him Amparo looked up at her father. “What is it?”

  “I know that you’re not much interested in what your husband is doing,” el Presidente answered in a sarcastic voice, “but you might have let me know he was arriving today.”

  “Today?” Her voice was incredulous.

  “Yes, today.”

  Her lips parted in a humorless smile. “I didn’t know. This must be the one time your censors sent you the photocopy before I had seen the original.”

  El Presidente walked over to the window and looked out. “If I’d only known yesterday I might have stopped him.”

  “What good would that have done?” Amparo asked, getting up off the bed. “Sooner or later he would have found out what you were doing.”

  “But today of all days.” Her father took a folded newspaper from under his arm and handed it to her. “El Diario is running a front-page editorial demanding a court-martial over the cowardly resignation of his commission in Korea. They say it reflects disgrace on all Corteguay.”

  Amparo didn’t even open the paper. “I suppose you didn’t know about this earlier?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Of course I knew about it,” he replied angrily, “but I didn’t know he would be here today. If I had I would have had them print it later.”

  “Blame your stupid spies, don’t blame me.” Amparo pulled the bell cord behind the bed. “I want some coffee. Would you like some?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll go to the airport and meet him. I’ll explain to him—”

  “You will explain nothing. You are not even to see him!”

  “Not even to see him? But I’m his wife. What will people think if I’m not there when he gets off the plane?”

  “I don’t give a damn what they think!” he shouted angrily. “You are also el Presidente’s daughter. You will have nothing to do with an accused traitor!”

  “So that’s the way it’s going to be?”

  El Presidente didn’t answer.

  “You’ve finally figured out a way to get rid of him,” she continued in a low voice. “I could see it coming. Ever since our honeymoon, when the papers began to speculate openly about his being your successor.”

  El Presidente stared at her. “And you were loyal to him? As soon as he was gone you leaped into bed with the first man who came near you.”

  Amparo smiled. “You’ll never convince me that I’m not your daughter. We’re a fine pair, you and I, exactly alike.”

  El Presidente suddenly relaxed. The maid came in with coffee and then hurriedly left the room. He walked over to the table and filled his coffee cup. He sipped the coffee with satisfaction. “I’m glad to see you’re beginning to make some sense at last.”

  Amparo came to the table and filled her own cup. She sank into a chair. “You’re not going to kill him as you did the others,” she said quietly. “I won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?” he asked skeptically. “What can you do?”

  Amparo smiled again. “A few days after Dax left I wrote a long report. In it I recorded everything I knew about you—what you’ve done, whom you’ve betrayed, where you hid the money you stole, everything. That report is in a bank vault somewhere in the United States, with instructions that it be opened and published if anything should ever happen to Dax or myself.”

  “I don’t believe you. Nothing of yours gets out of the country without my knowing about it.”

  Amparo smiled and sipped at her coffee. “No? You know so much about me I’m sure you are aware that I went to bed with a man a few days after Dax left. Do you by any chance happen to remember who it was?”

  There was a curious expression on her father’s face but he didn’t answer.

  “An attaché to the Mexican Embassy on his way to the United States. And from time to time there have been further additions to that report. Others have been only too happy to do a small favor for la princesa in exchange for her own.”
<
br />   El Presidente was still silent. After a moment he sighed. “What do you expect me to do with him then?”

  Amparo looked down at her coffee cup. It was empty. She leaned forward to refill it, careless of the way her negligee fell away. “You will send him away,” she said. “There are still many ways he could serve you abroad. As soon as he is out of the country I shall divorce him. That will show the people he is out of favor.”

  “And you will bring your report back into the country?”

  Amparo shook her head. “No. The report will remain where it is, an insurance policy against my life and his.”

  Her father stared at her silently for a moment, then his hand shot across the table. He seized an exposed breast and squeezed it savagely, digging his fingers into her flesh.

  Her face went white but the expression in her eyes did not change, even though beads of perspiration broke out across her forehead.

  Abruptly he let her go. There was a curious look of respect on his face as he spoke. “You are just like your mother,” he said. “Blond hair, black pussy.”

  The three soldiers snapped to attention as Dax and Fat Cat approached. The lieutenant in the center saluted. “Colonel Xenos?”

  Dax nodded. “Sí.”

  “El Presidente has asked that I bring you to him immediately. This way, please.” Instead of going through the gate and past the customs desk, he turned toward a small side door. Dax and Fat Cat started after him, but two soldiers stepped in front of Fat Cat.

  “You will remain here,” the taller of the two said sharply.

  Dax saw Fat Cat’s hand sneaking toward the gun in his shoulder holster. With a gesture of his hand he stopped him.

  “I don’t like this,” Fat Cat whispered.

  Dax smiled bleakly. “What is there to be afraid of?” he asked in English, then reverted to Spanish. “We are home now. Do as the lieutenant asks. Wait here for me.”

  Dax turned and walked after the lieutenant. Politely he opened the door and stood aside as Dax walked through. Dax blinked his eyes at the hot bright sunlight and waited until the lieutenant caught up with him.

  “This way,” the lieutenant said, leading him around the building.

  There, hidden from ordinary view, stood el Presidente’s bulletproof limousine. The lieutenant opened the rear door.

  “Come in, Dax,” el Presidente called from inside.

  Dax got in and the door immediately slammed behind him. He blinked his eyes, for the curtains were drawn across the windows. The interior of the limousine felt cool, and it was a moment before he realized that both the motor and the air-conditioner were running. He looked at el Presidente.

  Despite the air-conditioning the old man’s face was shiny with perspiration. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming, my boy?” he asked almost unctuously. “Fortunately I learned of your impending arrival from Amparo.”

  Dax looked directly at him. “I didn’t think it would matter. Where’s Amparo?”

  El Presidente avoided his eyes. “She is dedicating a new clinic at the free hospital.”

  Through the glass partition both the lieutenant and the chauffeur were watching them, and each held an automatic pistol at the ready.

  “Don’t pay any attention to them,” el Presidente said, “they can’t hear us.”

  Dax smiled. “I wasn’t concerned about that.”

  El Presidente smiled back. “The other is just routine. They are very zealous about protecting me. My boy, you have chosen a very inopportune time to come home. You should never have resigned your post.”

  “There was nothing else I could do when you did not send the troops you had promised.”

  “There were valid reasons, problems you know nothing about.”

  “But you gave your word,” Dax replied, “and I gave mine. I used my friends, my influence. I pleaded and cajoled them into sending you the new weapons. Surely you don’t think they believed your lie about the term of enlistment having expired.”

  “What difference does it make what they believed?” el Presidente answered in an annoyed voice. “There was trouble again in the mountains. The soldiers were more important to me here than in Korea.”

  “It was a lie from the very beginning,” Dax accused. “You never intended sending them. It was merely a way to get the new weapons.”

  El Presidente’s face went white with anger, and with difficulty he controlled his voice. “I have had men shot for saying less!”

  Dax leaned back against the seat and smiled tightly. “Go ahead. At least then my friends would realize I had nothing to do with their betrayal.”

  El Presidente was silent for a moment. When he spoke he had regained control over his voice. “I choose to forget your insult because it was made in the heat of anger. But remember this one thing. My first and only concern is Corteguay. Everything else in the world is important only by its relationship to that. Do you understand?”

  Dax’s lips twisted bitterly. “I understand very well.”

  “You may not appreciate it but I have saved your life by coming here to meet you.”

  Dax was silent.

  “The newspapers are screaming for your head. They would like to see you court-martialed for resigning your post under fire.”

  Dax looked at him. “You wouldn’t be interested in telling them the truth, would you?”

  “If they would listen I might,” el Presidente replied, “but it is too late. They wouldn’t listen.”

  “Why didn’t you stop them at the beginning?”

  “It developed too quickly,” el Presidente answered smoothly. “Before I could do anything, they had already inflamed the people.”

  Suddenly Dax began to laugh. “No wonder you were able to persuade my father to believe in you. You control everything printed in the newspapers, yet you calmly sit there and expect me to believe that?”

  El Presidente sat stiffly, silently.

  “All right. You wish me to go back on the plane that brought me here?”

  “Yes, there is still much you can do for us abroad.”

  “No,” Dax replied with finality. “You’ve used me enough, just as you used my father. Find yourself another boy.”

  “You say that because you are bitter. But you are Corteguayan. The day will come when you will change your mind.”

  “I shall always be Corteguayan, but I will never change my mind.”

  El Presidente was silent.

  Dax looked at him. “I would like to see Amparo before I leave.”

  “Amparo does not wish to see you,” el Presidente replied coldly. “She has asked me to inform you that she is filing for divorce. She feels it improper, as my daughter, to continue the relationship with you.”

  Dax pulled back the curtain and looked out the window of the car. The mountains in the distance shimmered in the heat. After a moment he turned back to el Presidente. “Very well,” he said quietly. He reached for the door. “I am ready to leave now.”

  “Just a moment.” El Presidente gestured to the chauffeur in front. “The door locks are controlled by the driver.”

  The lieutenant got out of the car and came around to open the door. Dax started to walk away but he was stopped by el Presidente’s voice.

  “Vaya con Dios, mi hijo.”

  Dax turned. El Presidente was leaning forward at the open door of the car. There was a curiously sad expression on his face. For a long moment the two men looked at one another, the tired old man whose face seemed held together by a thousand wrinkled lines, and the weary young man whose face had lost its illusions.

  “Gracias, excellency,” Dax said gravely. “Vaya con Dios.”

  El Presidente ordered the door shut and disappeared behind the curtains as the big car took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind as it cut across the airfield toward the road. Dax watched until it had disappeared from sight, then started back to the terminal.

  The big plane banked slowly over the sea, then moved back inland. As the no-smoking sign we
nt out, Dax reached for a cigarette. The stewardess came down the aisle and stopped by his seat. “Señor Xenos? The messenger who brought this asked me to be sure you got it the moment we were airborne.”

  “Thank you.”

  The stewardess walked away as Dax opened the envelope and stared down at the note.

  Dax,

  I am sorry. Please forgive me.

  Amparo

  Slowly he tore the note into tiny pieces and stuffed them into the ash tray. He lit a cigarette and looked out the window. They were approaching the mountains now. He felt the vague pressure holding him against the seat as the plane continued to lift. He looked down.

  The blue, jagged, snow-topped mountains of Corteguay. Suddenly his eyes blurred with tears. He closed them and leaned his head back wearily against the seat.

  He would never see them again.

  151

  “Over there,” Sue Ann said, pointing to where Dax lay outstretched, face down on the sand.

  “Oui, madame,” the beach boy replied, grinning. Sue Ann followed him silently past the early sunbathers. Expertly the boy rolled out the matelas and draped a towel over it. Sue Ann took a franc from her beach bag and handed it to him. He touched his finger to his forehead and went away, still grinning his toothy grin.

  Silently she dropped onto the mattress and stretched out on her back. The sun felt good, warm on her skin. She stirred lazily and turned slightly on her side.