Why Pick On ME?

by James Hadley Chase

  “So Kara ran away,” Diestl said in a hard, flat voice. “Frankly, I find that difficult to believe.”

  “I don’t,” Ames said, coming to a standstill. “These Russians are unreliable. Besides, she hates Corridon.”

  “What has that to do with it?” Homer asked, looking inquiringly over his shoulder at Ames.

  “She saw Corridon was in a tight spot, and she left him to it. What I can’t understand is why she hasn’t returned.”

  “Probably the police have her,” Corridon said. “It isn’t easy to get away in a car. That’s why I arranged to leave the Buick in the park. Well, there it is. She didn’t obey orders so she must take the consequences.”

  “And I find it still harder to believe the police caught her,” Diestl said. “Isn’t it time Fraser phoned?” he went on to Homer.

  “He should be through at any moment.” Homer glanced at the clock on his desk. “I told him I wanted a full report. He may be having a little trouble in checking up on Kara.”

  “You two seem disappointed,” Corridon said mildly. “I warned you you wouldn’t get rid of Ritchie without paying a price.”

  Diestl lit a cigarette. The flame of the match lit up his thin, hard face.

  “But we have only your word that Ritchie is dead.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Ames asked, coming up to the desk. “If I’m satisfied, you should be, too. It was a very dangerous and difficult job. Corridon has done well.”

  “If Ritchie is really dead then he has done very well,” Diestl said. “But I prefer to wait for confirmation.”

  Corridon touched his bruised cheek. He had expected them to be suspicious. It didn’t bother him. He knew he could rely on Rawlins to spread the rumour of Ritchie’s death.

  They sat for some minutes in silence, then the telephone bell rang and Homer picked up the receiver.

  “Yes?” He nodded at Diestl. “It’s Fraser,” he said, then went on into the mouthpiece. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

  He sat listening, his face expressionless while Diestl and Ames stood either side of him, and Corridon relaxed in his chair. A lot depended on this report, he thought. At least he seemed to have won Ames over to his side. Diestl was suspicious, Homer a little uncertain, but Ames had accepted Corridon’s story without hesitation, and after all, Ames was the most dangerous of the three.

  Homer sat listening for several minutes. From time to time he grunted and leaned forward to scribble on a pad of paper. Finally, he said, “Let me know immediately there is any further news,” and hung up.

  “Well?” Diestl asked impatiently. “Is Ritchie dead?”

  Homer nodded. There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

  “There’s no doubt about it. Fraser spoke to Rawlins himself. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow.”

  Soundlessly Corridon drew in a breath of relief.

  “And Kara?” Diestl asked.

  “She’s in the hands of the police. Corridon’s story is quite correct. She drove away immediately after the shooting. She was chased, and crashed into a store in Knightsbridge. She’s in Hammersmith police station.”

  “And MacAdams?”

  “He’s also there. Chicho is dead.”

  Diestl grimaced.

  “Do you think those two will talk?”

  “Kara won’t,” Ames said, “but MacAdams might. I think we should do something about him.”

  “But what?” Homer asked. “What can we do?”

  Ames smiled.

  “He’ll need a solicitor, and solicitors carry briefcases. What could be simpler than to put a bomb in the case that would explode when he opened it? The bomb could be quite small.”

  Diestl nodded.

  “Yes.” He looked across at Corridon. “Could you make such a bomb?”

  “I could, but isn’t it a little unfair on the solicitor?” Corridon said dryly.

  “That’s his bad luck,” Ames returned and laughed. “You make the bomb, and I’ll arrange for it to be put in the case.”

  “And Kara?” Diestl asked.

  “I must think about Kara,” Ames said, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. “It might be possible to get her out of jail. She is worth making an effort. We have no one to touch her when it comes to driving a car. I think we shall have to do something about her.”

  Homer flashed his yellow teeth in Corridon’s direction.

  “And now, Mr. Corridon,” he said, “I’m sure you are tired after all your excitement, and would like to go to bed. You’ve done very well. We’re pleased with you. You can consider yourself now a full member of this organization. You are free to go where you like. Arrangements will be made tomorrow to pay you the five hundred pounds we owe you. If you’ll prepare this little booby-trap and let Ames have it, I’ll be obliged. In a few days we’ll have another assignment for you, and you can be sure we shall pay as generously.”

  Corridon got to his feet.

  “That’s fine,” he said, and grinned at Homer. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Homer went on, “Although your movements are now entirely unrestricted so far as we are concerned, you’ll remember the police are still looking for you in connection with Lestrange’s shooting. You should be careful.”

  “Isn’t it time you did something about that?” Corridon said. “If I’m to be useful to you, I must have complete freedom of movement.”

  “I don’t see what we can do,” Homer said. “But perhaps Ames has a suggestion.”

  “Corridon’s right. If he is to be of real use to us, he must be cleared of the shooting. After all Martha’s served her purpose. I think we can get rid of her. Suicide and a full confession would put Corridon in the clear. I’ll arrange it.”

  “You see, Mr. Corridon,” Homer said, smiling, “there’s no problem our friend Ames can’t solve. Until she has been disposed of, perhaps it would be safer for you not to go too far afield.”

  “I won’t,” Corridon said.

  “The Leader will be informed of your success,” Homer said. “No doubt he’ll wish to meet you and talk to you himself. It’s possible he’ll be visiting us tomorrow. I’ll ask him if he wishes to see you.”

  Corridon kept his face expressionless.

  “That’s up to him. Well, I’ll turn in.”

  As he moved to the door, the lights in the room flickered, went out, and then came on again.

  “There’s someone in the grounds!” Ames said, jumping for the door.

  “What are the guards doing?” Homer said, his face turning a blotchy white. He got hurriedly to his feet. “How can anyone get past the fence?”

  Ames didn’t bother to answer him, but grasping Corridon’s arm, pushed him down the corridor to the hall.

  “That’s the signal,” he explained, opening the front door. “Someone’s passed through the ray zone. You take the right-hand path, I’ll go left. Here, have this,” and he pushed a small automatic into Corridon’s hand. “Don’t use it unless you have to. I want whoever this is alive.”

  “How about the dogs?” Corridon asked, not anxious to repeat the encounter.

  “Never mind about them,” Ames said impatiently. “They’ll be with the guards. Go on, get off.”

  He ran off down the path away from the house, and Corridon, after a quick look to right and left, set off along the path in the opposite direction.

  Who could it be? he wondered as he moved silently into the darkness, his ears cocked and his eyes searching the deep shadows. He had warned Rawlins to keep away. It was possible, of course, one of the prisoners had escaped from the house.

  As he neared the rhododendron grove, he moved off the path and crossed the lawn. Away to his left he heard dogs barking and he grimaced. He hoped the guards knew he and Ames were in the grounds and wouldn’t release the dogs.

  He picked his way silently through the giant shrubs. Suddenly he paused to listen. He thought he heard a sound a little ahead of him. As he paused, a shadowy figure darted to cover.

&nb
sp; “Hold it or I shoot!” he exclaimed.

  “Martin!”

  He stiffened. The shock of hearing her voice was like a blow in the face.

  “Marian!”

  She appeared before him and caught hold of his arm.

  “You little fool!” he said softly. “They know you’re here, and they’re looking for you. You’ve got to get out at once!”

  “Listen, Martin,” she said, shaking his arm. “I had to come. Kara’s escaped. I came to warn you. She may turn up here at any moment.”

  II

  Before he had time to realize the significance of what she was telling him, he heard someone running towards them.

  “Run for it!” he whispered, but before she could move Ames burst through the shrubs and came on them.

  If he helped her escape now, Corridon thought, his hopes of meeting the Leader and smashing the organization were finished. He cursed Ritchie and Rawlins for letting her come into the grounds. He had to decide whether to sacrifice her or the job he had undertaken. He remembered saying to Ritchie, “If I’m to get to the top man I can’t keep anyone covered,” and he knew, even though Marian was his niece, Ritchie would have put the job first.

  He was holding Marian by the arm by the time Ames reached them.

  “She ran right into me,” he said, then turning to Marian and giving her a little shake he demanded, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Ames flashed a torch on Marian’s face.

  “Speak up!” he snarled. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see the house,” Marian said, her voice cool and steady. “Must you both spring on me as if I was a burglar?”

  “How did you get in?” Ames demanded.

  “I climbed over the wall. I’ve heard so much about Baintrees. They told me in the village no one’s allowed near the house so I thought I’d look for myself. Will you please let go of me?”

  “Bring her to the house,” Ames said. “She’s lying, of course. She’s from Ritchie.”

  “Come on,” Corridon said, and gave Marian’s arm a little squeeze. “Don’t make a fuss. It won’t get you anywhere.” She tried to jerk free, but he easily held her.

  “Want any help?” Ames asked, stepping closer.

  “It’s all right,” Corridon said. “She’s going to be sensible,” and pulled Marian onto the path, forcing her towards the house.

  “This is really ridiculous,” Marian protested. “I only wanted to see the house.”

  “You’re going to see it,” Ames said. “Take her to Homer’s office.”

  Corridon was in two minds to let her go. If Ames hadn’t come on them, it would have been easy. Now it was either Marian or the job. He consoled himself that there was still time to get her out of the house before anything happened to her.

  He pushed her up the steps into the hall and along the corridor to Homer’s office. Homer was waiting in the corridor. He stood aside and waved Corridon in.

  He and Ames followed and closed the door. Corridon released Marian as Ames set his back against the door.

  “Who are you?” Homer said, flashing his yellow teeth. There was fear in his small, deep-set eyes.

  “My name is Marian Holly, and I live in the cottage across the way,” Marian said coolly. “I wanted to see the house and as no one seems to be allowed to see it, I climbed over the wall. I’m sorry to have been so silly, and I apologize. Now may I please go?”

  “You work for Ritchie, don’t you?” Ames said.

  “Ritchie? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marian returned, facing him. “I know I was trespassing, but surely there’s no need to make quite such a fuss?”

  Corridon admired the steady stare she gave Ames. Her expression was the right blend of bewilderment and indignation. He could see Ames was a little doubtful.

  Ames looked at him for support.

  “You know most of Ritchie’s agents. Seen her before?”

  Corridon shook his head.

  “As far as I know she isn’t one of Ritchie’s people. I’ve seen them all.”

  Homer began to look relieved.

  “Is it possible she’s telling the truth?” he asked. “People do get curious about Baintrees.”

  “I do wish I knew what you were talking about,” Marian said. “I’ve already apologized for trespassing. What do you expect me to do – grovel?”

  Corridon began to wonder if she wasn’t going to bluff herself out of trouble. Both Ames and Homer were looking undecided, and Marian, seeing she was making heady way, pressed them.

  “If you want to sue me for trespass, you’d better do it,” she said, her voice sharpening. “But you have no right to keep me here against my will,” and she turned and made for the door.

  She’s going to get away with it, Corridon thought, as neither Ames nor Homer attempted to stop her. She opened the door, then stepped back, and Corridon heard her catch her breath sharply.

  Standing just outside was Kara, a .38 automatic in her hand, her eyes looking past Marian at Corridon. Seeing her, he felt a chill run up his spine.

  For a moment no one moved or said anything. Kara’s black sweater was covered with mud, her black trousers were torn at the knees, and there was a streak of blood on her white, drawn face.

  “Get back!” she snarled at Marian. “I know who you are. You’re Ritchie’s niece!”

  Realizing the situation couldn’t be more dangerous, Corridon’s hand stole to his hip-pocket for his gun, but Kara’s eyes were on him.

  “Put up your hands!” she exclaimed. “Make a move, you rat, and I’ll kill you!”

  As Corridon lifted his hands, he gave her a jeering grin.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said. “You should have kept this show of ferociousness for Ritchie.”

  “Ritchie’s niece!” Ames said. “What are you talking about?”

  Without taking her eyes from Corridon, Kara said, “He’s properly fooled you. They’re working together. He murdered Chicho. I saw him.”

  Corridon looked across at Ames and lifted his shoulders.

  “What do you expect?” he said. “She lost her nerve, and now she’s trying to lie her way into your good books again.”

  “It’s you who are lying!” Kara cried, her face white. “He and this woman are working together. She’s Marian Howard – Ritchie’s niece.”

  Ames caught hold of Marian and shook her.

  “Is that right?”

  “How dare you!” Marian exclaimed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I warn you. I’ll complain to the police!”

  “Is she Ritchie’s niece?” Ames asked, turning to Corridon.

  Corridon shook his head.

  “I’ve no idea. Ritchie has a niece, but I’ve never met her. Is it likely he’d mix his niece up in any danger? It’s my bet Kara’s trying to confuse the issue.”

  “We’ll soon find that out!” Ames said savagely. “I’ll make her talk!”

  He caught hold of Marian’s arm and twisted it behind her.

  “Now,” he said, “are you working for Ritchie?”

  “Let me go!” Marian cried. “How dare you…!” she broke off with a little scream as Ames screwed her arm back, nearly dislocating it.

  Corridon had to make an effort not to smash his fist into Ames’ face. He was aware that Kara was watching him, and somehow, he controlled himself.

  “Answer me,” Ames said and twisted again, forcing Marian onto her knees.

  “Be careful,” Homer said anxiously. “If she isn’t…”

  “Wait,” Corridon said. “Let me talk to her.”

  Still retaining his grip, Ames relaxed the pressure.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “If she doesn’t talk to you, I’ll break her arm.”

  Corridon bent over Marian.

  “If you work for Ritchie you’d better say so. He’s not bluffing. He will break your arm,” and he looked meaningly at Marian, trying to convey that bluff wouldn’t help her.

&nb
sp; For a moment she hesitated, then, as Ames suddenly screwed her arm up towards her head, she gasped out, “Yes… I am working for Ritchie.”

  Ames let go of her and stepped away. Homer caught his breath in a long, hissing gulp.

  “Then they must know we’re here,” he said, and got unsteadily to his feet.

  “They’ve known all along!” Kara said furiously. “Don’t you understand? He’s fooled you! Ritchie isn’t dead. She came to warn him I had escaped.”

  “She’s lying!” Corridon snapped. “I’ve never seen this woman before. Ritchie is dead.” He turned to Homer who was staring at him, his face white. “She’s trying to get even with me. After all it’s her word against mine.”

  “She knows him!” Kara said, pointing to Marian. “Ask her. If you can’t make her talk, I can!”

  Ames caught hold of Marian’s arm again.

  “Do you know him?”

  Marian shook her head.

  “No.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Homer broke in, a quaver in his voice. “If they know we’re here, they may be already in the grounds.”

  “They can’t prove anything,” Ames snarled. “Let them come! Keep out of this.” He walked up to Corridon, his eyes glittering dangerously. “As you say, it’s your word against Kara’s. I’m going to find out who’s lying. If this girl doesn’t know who you are, then as far as I’m concerned, you’re in the clear.”

  Corridon shrugged.

  “I don’t knew her,” he said. “Kara’s trying to make mischief. If you believe her, you’re playing right into her hands.”

  Ames’ hand dipped into Corridon’s hip pocket and pulled out the .38 he had given him.

  “I’ll keep this until I’m satisfied.” he said evenly, and crossed the room to press the bell push on Homer’s desk. “The test will be a simple one. If this girl knows you, she’ll know your name. I intend to ask her your name under pressure. If she can’t tell me, I shall be satisfied.”

  “She’ll tell you!” Kara said viciously. “Let me handle her!”

  “Shut up!” Ames snarled at her.

  Corridon’s heart sank. He knew Ames. He cursed himself for not acting at once.

  The door opened and Yevski came in.

  “Take this woman to the basement room and prepare her for questioning,” Ames said.