Why Pick On ME?

by James Hadley Chase

  “There was no jewellery and I didn’t shoot Lestrange,” Corridon said.

  “I know that, but it will be difficult to prove.”

  “Well, it’s got to be proved!” Corridon snapped. “I was damn near hanged the last job I did for you. I’m not going through that experience again.”

  Ritchie took out a cigarette-case, opened it and selected a cigarette.

  “Have you any suggestions?” he asked mildly.

  “I’ll tell my story to the police and you’ll corroborate it. If the police work on the woman, she’ll crack.”

  “I’m afraid it won’t be as easy as that,” Ritchie said. “Naturally, you are looking at this thing from your point of view. But I see it from many points of view. What you don’t seem to realize is that this organization is not yet aware it has been discovered. They believe we don’t know these murders and acts of sabotage are planned and carried out by this particular group of people. They think they have covered their tracks, and we are floundering about in the dark. They have no idea I am hunting for them. If I come forward and corroborate your story, the cat will be out of the bag, and they will be much more difficult to track down. I’m afraid it is in the interests of the country for me not to come forward.”

  Corridon stood very still. His face hardened.

  “Let’s get this straight,” he said. “Are you going to throw me to the wolves?”

  Ritchie lit his cigarette and put the match carefully in the ash-tray.

  “I’m afraid I am. You have stepped out of line, and as you admit, you have only yourself to blame. If you hadn’t fooled with that girl, you could have got word to Marian and I should have been able to cover you. I would have told Saunders to watch you, and as soon as the shot had been fired, he would have entered the room and caught the woman in the act. You would have had the necessary witness and I need not have come into it. But as it is, it’s you or the country. I’m sorry.”

  Corridon went to the cupboard and fetched out the whisky and soda syphon.

  “Then if I’m not working for you any more,” he said, “I may as well buy myself a drink.” He poured a stiff whisky. “Like one?”

  Ritchie shook his head.

  “You don’t think I’m going to hand myself over to Rawlins, do you?” Corridon went on. “You don’t imagine I’m going like a lamb to the slaughter? You should know me better than that. It’s easy enough for you to talk about putting the country first. You’re not risking your life. I like my life, and I intend to keep it as long as I can. I’m afraid your little plan is going to misfire.”

  “I seem to have misjudged you,” Ritchie said. “I was a fool to have taken you into my confidence.”

  “I think you were,” Corridon returned. “I warned you. I’m sorry, Colonel, but I’m not falling in with your patriotic plans. I’m going over to the other side. I don’t doubt if I tell them you are the boy they should watch; they will favour me. They’ll probably be interested to know what happened to No. 12, the fella you worked on and who committed suicide. They’ll also be interested to learn something of your methods you have so obligingly taught me in the past. I wouldn’t mind betting they’ll find a suitable hiding-place for me when they realize just how much I know about the tricks of your trade. What do you say to that, Colonel?”

  Ritchie pulled at his long, thin nose while he eyed Corridon thoughtfully. Then his face cleared and he smiled.

  “You are quite right, of course,” he said. “This is the only way to play it. If they think you and I have fallen out, they might trust you. It’ll be a dangerous game, but you might pull it off.”

  Corridon grinned.

  “Damn it! I was hoping to see you fly into a rage. It is the only way now, Colonel. Only it’s you who’ll have to be careful. If I do this the right way, I’ll have to use you as the bait on my hook.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll take precautions. It’s a gamble, but it may come off. You’ll have to tell them all you know, and it’s got to be the truth. They’ll try to check everything you do tell them, and if they find out you’ve lied, both of us are sunk. I’ll leave the details to you. If they accept you, you should be able to clean them up. There’s just one thing: leave Marian out of it. I don’t think I told you she’s my niece, and I’m very fond of her. Keep her out of it.”

  “If I’m to get to the top man,” Corridon said, “I can’t keep anyone under cover. You know that. I won’t mention her unless they ask me, but if they do, then I’ll have to tell them. It’s probable they have been watching her. You’d better get her out of here, and put her where they can’t find her. If I’m to pull this off, they mustn’t catch me out in a lie.”

  Ritchie nodded.

  “You’re right. I’ll get her out of this.” He stared at Corridon for a moment or so. “I’m sorry I spoke the way I did. I take it all back. You haven’t changed a scrap.”

  Corridon smiled.

  “I may have got a little soft and careless, but no one makes a fool out of me without getting paid back, and with interest. Diestl slipped a fast one on me. He’s going to be sorry. I’ll get off now. When you go, take Marian with you. She won’t be safe in an hour or so.” He held out his hand. “So long, Colonel. I’ll present you with their scalps before long. That goes for the top man too, and it won’t cost you a thing. I’m doing this for free, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

  Ritchie shook hands

  “Good luck, Martin, and be careful. If you want any help, you know where you can reach me.”

  “It’s not going to be that easy. I’ll have to work this out on my own. When I do call you, it’ll be the finish of them. Well, so long.”

  “I think Marian would like to wish you luck,” Ritchie said.

  Corridon shook his head.

  “No. I have one woman on my hands right now, and I don’t want another.” He grinned. “The trouble with your niece is she’s too attractive. Know what, Colonel? I could go for her. She’s my type of woman. So the less I see of her the better for her – and probably me.”

  Marian, who was listening behind the bedroom door, flushed scarlet.

  III

  Corridon put his thumb against Lorene’s front door bell and leaned his weight against it. The time was twenty minutes to three a.m. On his way to Bayswater Crescent he had had two narrow escapes: one from a patrol car, and another from a plain-clothes man who had rashly tried to arrest him without calling for assistance. The patrol car Corridon had got away from by climbing a garden wall and playing a fierce hide-and-seek for twenty minutes or so. The plain-clothes man had been easier. Corridon had hit him on the jaw as the detective grabbed him.

  He listened to the shrill sound of the bell, and wondered if Lorene was alone. She was taking her time about answering, he thought sourly.

  Then he heard her voice calling through the letter-box flap.

  “Who is it?”

  He bent and looked into her startled eyes.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “Open up, I want to come in.”

  She opened the front door. She looked very small and charming in a transparent crepe de Chine nightdress, but her eyes were frightened.

  “Martin! What on earth… Don’t you know it’s nearly three?”

  He stepped into the hall and closed the front door with his heel.

  “Yes, I know what the time is.”

  He pushed her into the sitting-room.

  “I want to use your phone. Go and get something on, and make some coffee.”

  “Martin! Have you gone mad? You can’t come in here like this…”

  He caught hold of her arms and gave her a little shake. His sea-green eyes were savage.

  “Do what I tell you! What’s your brother’s phone number?”

  “Let me go! How dare…”

  He gave her another little shake that snapped her head back and left her breathless.

  “I’m not playing, Lorene. I’m serious. What’s your brother’s number?”

  “Berkel
ey 5445,” she said. “But why do you want Slade? What’s happened?”

  “Plenty,” Corridon said and walked over to the “phone. “Your sweet little brother and that pal of his have got me snarled up in a murder.” He dialled the number she had given him. “Don’t stand gaping. Get me some coffee and put on a wrap. That nightie of yours isn’t decent.”

  She didn’t move, but stood with her hands across her breasts, white-faced, her eyes wide.

  “Murder?” Her voice was off-key.

  “Yes.” Corridon heard a click on the line, and then Feydak’s voice asked sleepily, “Who’s that?”

  “This is Corridon. Now listen, get hold of Diestl and come round to your sister’s place right away. You’ve had your fun, now I’m going to have mine. And if you think you can start anything funny, just remember I have Lorene within reach, and it’d give me a lot of pleasure to stretch her pretty neck. Understand?”

  As Feydak caught his breath in a startled gasp, Corridon dropped the receiver back on its cradle.

  Lorene backed hurriedly away.

  “But, Martin…”

  “Don’t get excited. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Corridon said, and he gave her a long, hard stare. “Did you know what they were up to?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Martin! You’re frightening me. What’s happened?”

  “You know about the letters?”

  She hesitated, then, “Well, Slade did say something about them. He – he wanted you…”

  “You didn’t know it was a trap?” He was staring at her. “No, I don’t think you did. There weren’t any letters. The woman was entertaining David Lestrange. When I arrived, she shot him through the head, and I’m the goat. Diestl and your brother engineered the murder. I’m supposed to take the blame.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “You will, when you see tomorrow’s newspapers, and you will, when Slade gets hanged!”

  “Oh, darling!” She came swiftly to him and threw her arms round his neck. “You frighten me so. But if you’re in trouble, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  He pushed her away.

  “That’s fine,” he said with his jeering smile. “Well, make a start and get me some coffee. And take my tip, precious, get rid of that jade ring. It’s dangerous.”

  He saw her flinch.

  “Are you sure you are feeling all right?” she asked anxiously. “You’re saying the oddest things.”

  “Get me some coffee and quit acting like a new-born baby. You’re as obvious as a neon light?” He turned her and propelled her forward with a light slap on her behind. “Go on, and hurry.”

  While she was getting the coffee, he took of his coat and dropped on the settee. He walked. Minutes ticked by. He could hear her moving about in the kitchen. He wondered just how deeply involved she was in this business. Not very deep, he decided. Slade could be using her as a cat’s paw. He thought that was the most likely explanation.

  She came into the room, carrying a tray. She had tidied her dark hair and had put on a wrap. As she poured the coffee, he saw her hand was shaking.

  “Look, let’s not have any more fooling. Just how deeply are you mixed up in this business?”

  She gave him a quick, scared look.

  “I do wish you wouldn’t talk in riddles. What do you mean? What business?”

  “Slade and Diestl are running an organization the main object of which is to cause as much damage to this country’s economic recovery as possible. Didn’t you know?”

  She bit down on her lip.

  “I – I knew he was doing something. He’s never told me what.”

  Corridon took the cup of coffee from her.

  “Well, you know now.”

  “I can’t believe it. Please, don’t talk like that. I – I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “Why do you wear that ring?” he went on. “Don’t you know each member of the organization wears a ring like that?”

  “Slade gave it to me to wear. He’s taken it back now.”

  That was possible, Corridon thought. Arousing his interest in Lorene could have been part of the trap.

  He put down his coffee cup and swung up his legs on the settee.

  “Forget about it,” he said. “But stick around when your brother comes. You should hear something that’ll interest you.”

  They waited in an uneasy silence. Later, when the front door bell rang and Lorene jumped up, Corridon reached out and caught her wrist.

  “You stay here,” he said. “I’ll answer it.”

  He went to the front door, slipped on the chain and opened it a couple of inches. Outside in the passage Diestl and Feydak waited.

  Corridon made sure they were on their own, then he took off the chain and opened the door.

  “Come in.”

  They entered. Feydak looked white and shaken, but Diestl was unmoved. His thin set face was expressionless, and his eyes were watchful.

  Corridon closed the door behind them and waved them to the sitting-room.

  “Let’s go in there and have a little talk,” he said.

  The two men entered. Feydak and Lorene exchanged quick, uneasy glances. Corridon closed the door. He returned to his chair and poured out another cup of coffee.

  “That was quite a trick you pulled on me,” he said to Diestl. “Congratulations.”

  Diestl went over to the dying fire. He stood with his back to it, his hands in his trouser pockets. He smiled thinly.

  “The police are hunting for you,” he said smoothly. “It is my duty to tell them you are here. You realize that?”

  Corridon grinned.

  “It wouldn’t be wise to tell them I’m here,” he said cheerfully. “Naturally, you don’t want to be drawn into this business. That’s why I came here. You hoped I would have been caught after the shooting. That was why you sent your fat bodyguard to see I didn’t get away. Unfortunately, I did get away, and now you’re stuck with me.”

  Diestl raised his black eyebrows.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. You can’t stay here. You’d better go.”

  “Ring up the police now,” Corridon said. “Go on. Tell them I’m here, and don’t kid yourself you three will be able to talk yourself out of trouble.”

  “If it wasn’t for Lorene,” Diestl said with his thin smile, “I would most certainly call the police. Naturally I hesitate to involve her in any unpleasantness. It would be better if you left.”

  Corridon lit a cigarette.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m staying here. But don’t let us waste any more time. I intend to be frank with you. Up to an hour ago I was an agent attached to O.S.S.5, the English branch of the cloak and dagger boys. You may have heard of them. Their job is to hunt down spies and saboteurs, and they are under the direction of a certain Colonel at the War Office. He is on to you. I was ordered to contact you and find out as much as I could of your activities. Because you outsmarted me, and I made a mess of this letter-stealing stunt, I have been tossed out into the cold, hard world. In other words, authority has once again washed its hands of me. Does this bore you?”

  Diestl shook his head.

  “If it amuses you, go on. I have no idea what you are talking about, but no doubt that won’t worry you.”

  “It doesn’t,” Corridon said cheerfully. “The Colonel is particularly anxious that you should have no idea he is on to you. That is the reason why he is sacrificing me. I don’t see it his way. Since I am between the devil and the deep blue sea, I have no alternative but to offer you my services.”

  “I should have no use for them,” Diestl said. “I don’t make a habit of hiring murderers.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t entirely accurate,” Corridon said. “Carl Bruger is a professional murderer.”

  For a second Diestl’s face tightened, then he recovered himself.

  “I don’t know who you are talking about.”

  “I suppose you have never
heard of Ivan Yevski?”

  Again Diestl couldn’t control a slight start.

  “No, I haven’t,” he said, but his thin smile had gone.

  “The fact is,” Corridon went on, flicking ash on the carpet, “we know a lot about your organization. We know about the jade rings. The Colonel has been extremely active. He has quite a dossier on you and your followers. I would be useful to you. Don’t let’s beat about the bush. I’m not fussy who I work for, providing the money is reasonable. I know the inner workings of O.S.S.5. I know their agents. I know their methods. I could tell you who to watch for. For all you know you may have some of them working amongst the group you control. I could ferret them out for you. Besides all that, there’s nothing I don’t know about explosives, sabotage, and the gentle art of removing undesirables. I could teach your recruits a lot. I should need money, of course, and shelter, but I should be an excellent bargain. I assure you of that.”

  Diestl studied Corridon. The cold, black eyes were piercing.

  “I can only conclude you are either mad or drunk,” he said. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I suggest you leave immediately.”

  Corridon laughed.

  “Still cautious? Perhaps you’d better ask yourself if you can afford to be without me. No. 12 was caught, you know, and he talked.”

  A shadow passed across Diestl’s face, and his jaw muscles tightened.

  “Don’t trust him!” Feydak said, harshly seeing the change of expression. “He’s up to something.”

  “Probably he is, but I think he may be right when he says we can’t afford to be without him.” A small automatic sprang into Diestl’s hand. He levelled the gun at Corridon. “What do you know of No. 12?”

  “That’s better,” Corridon said. “At least, you admit you know who I’m talking about. You wondered where he vanished to, didn’t you? Well, I’ll tell you. O.S.S.5 nabbed him. They took him to a quiet little room in the basement of a silent lonely house and they worked on him. They weren’t particularly fussy how they handled him either. After a while, he talked. Then to make sure he wasn’t holding anything back, they worked him over again. Perhaps he hadn’t anything more to tell them, but they are hard to convince; and extremely enthusiastic. He wasn’t quite tough enough to withstand their attentions. He died under the treatment.”