'Yes,' she said and handed the gun back to Manuel. 'I understand.'
Manuel put the gun back into the plastic sack and the sack into the locker.
'Let us eat,' he said. 'We may have to stay in the penthouse for two or three days. It is wise to eat.'
While he was preparing a meal of fish stew, Anita remained at the table, looking down at her hands. Fuentes got off the bunk and went to the doorway of the galley. He had had enough of Anita's brooding expression.
Manuel winked at him, then pressed his thick fingers to his lips, signalling to Fuentes not to talk.
The meal was eaten in silence. As Anita was washing the dishes, the telephone bell rang. Manuel picked up the receiver, grunted 'Torres,' then listened. Finally, he said, 'Thank you. You have done well. I take care of my friends,' and he hung up.
Fuentes could see that Manuel was now worried. His heavy featured face was set, and as he sat down at the table, he rubbed his bald, sweating head.
Anita came from the galley.
'Bad news,' Manuel said.
Anita stiffened, losing color. 'Pedro?'
'No. Don't I keep telling you Pedro is all right?' Manuel snapped. 'Don't keep thinking of him!'
'I have nothing else to think about except my husband. What is the bad news?'
'The cops have found out you are working at the hotel.'
Anita flinched, then sat down at the table. 'What will happen?'
'I don't know. Maybe the police will be waiting for you. They will question you. They will talk to your boss. It is a dangerous situation.'
Anita thought, while Manuel and Fuentes watched her, both men fearing that, after all, this great sum of money wouldn't materialize.
Anita looked up. Manuel marvelled at her calm expression. 'It will be all right,' she said. 'The hotel is short of staff. I am the only one who knows how to service the penthouse. For tonight, the hotel can't do without me. I am sure the questioning will come after I have done my work, and then it will be too late.' She got to her feet. 'I will go now. I am not afraid of the police. At exactly twelve thirty tonight, I will open the staff door. I give you my word.'
Manuel stared at her and relaxed. 'You are a fine, courageous woman,' he said. 'We will be there at exactly twelve thirty.'
'It is understood in a day or so, we will sail for Havana with Pedro?'
'It is understood,' Manuel said with a false smile.
Anita looked directly at him. 'I trust you,' she said. 'You take all the money. I only want Pedro.'
When she had gone, there was a long, uneasy silence, then Fuentes said, 'This woman frightens me. She is dangerous. She mustn't be given a gun.'
Manuel shook his head. 'There is no question of that.' He pulled from his hip pocket what looked like a black sausage. This object he laid on the table. 'I have thought deeply about this since I left you. Pedro is dying. There is no other solution. I regret it, but we must keep the cops out of this affair. Anita will expect me to threaten the hotel owner to persuade the mayor to release her husband. She will stand by me while I talk to Dulac. If I do this, Dulac will alert the police. This is something we must avoid. I am sure, without Pedro, we will get the money. That I am truly sure of, but Anita must be neutralized.'
He picked up the sausage shaped object. 'A little tap on her head with this and she will no longer be a problem. She won't be damaged. I know well how to strike with a sand-bag.'
He took from his pocket a roll of adhesive tape. 'As soon as she gets us into the penthouse, I will give her a little tap. We bind and gag her and take her out onto the terrace. Regretfully, there is no other way. When we get the money, we will release her. If she accepts the fact that Pedro is as good as dead and can't come with us, but she agrees to come with us, then I will give her some money. If she is stupid, then, regretfully, I will give her another tap and we leave her. By then, we will have the money and Warrenton as hostage. What can she do or the cops do? There is no other solution.'
Sweat began to run down Fuentes' face. He stared with alarm at the black sand-bag Manuel was holding. He thought of the time when he, Manuel and Warrenton, as hostage, would be on the boat, heading for Havana.
I know well how to strike with a sand-bag.
Was that going to happen to him, then the sharks?
Manuel was regarding him. 'What is in your mind, my friend?' he asked.
My friend? This man of non-truth calling me friend, Fuentes thought.
'I am thinking of the money,' he said, forcing a smile. 'I was thinking what it would mean to me to own a million dollars.'
'Yes,' Manuel said quietly, 'but first we must get the money. Isn't that right, my friend?'
Into Fuentes' sluggish mind came a thought. He would have a gun. He would never take his eyes off Manuel during the voyage to Havana. When they were approaching the harbor lights, he would shoot Manuel. He had enough experience with boats to bring the boat into the harbor. There would be five million dollars on board! He would then shoot Warrenton, dock the boat and disappear with this enormous ransom! This would have to be thought about, but there was time. Five million dollars!
His face lit up as he said, 'Yes, you are right. First, we must get the money.'
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ed Haddon was sitting at the corner table at the seafood restaurant as Brady joined him. The maitre d' hovered.
'Have the curried prawns,' Haddon said. 'They're good.'
Brady said curried prawns were fine with him. Haddon ordered another dry martini for himself and a Scotch on the rocks for Brady.
As soon as the maitre d' had left them, Haddon looked inquiringly at Brady. 'What's the news?'
'We do the job tonight,' Brady said. 'It looks a cert. First, the safe, then the Warrentons' diamonds. So then what happens?'
'You have your end completely tied up?'
'I told you: it's a cert.'
'I have my end tied up too,' Haddon said. 'Lu, we're heading fast for the big deal.'
Two waiters arrived and served the curried prawns. Haddon could see by Brady's expression as he surveyed his plate, that further business talk would be so much waste of time. The two men ate in silence. Every now and then, Brady made a loud humming noise of appreciation. Finally, finished, he sat back, mopped his mouth with his napkin and smiled.
'That, Ed, was devilish good.'
'Can you now turn your greedy mind to business?' Haddon asked.
'Let's have the apple pie,' Brady said. 'I'm a sucker for apple pie.'
Haddon shrugged. He ordered two apple pies. While they waited, Brady picked his teeth and hummed under his breath. Haddon contained his impatience with an effort. It wasn't until coffee and brandy had been served that Brady became receptive.
'As I told you, I have my end tied up," Haddon said. 'I've talked to Kendrick. He'll handle the whole deal. Now that I know you'll do the job tonight, I'll alert him to have his fag at your chalet at two o'clock. You get the stuff and return to your chalet. Kendrick's fag will take the loot, and that's the end of your problem. Kendrick tells me he will stash the stuff away where no one will find it. When the heat dies down, he will sell the stuff. It may take a couple of months before we get the money, but no longer.'
Brady grimaced. 'Suppose Kendrick says he's never had the loot? I don't trust that fat fag.'
Haddon smiled grimly. 'No problem, Lu. I have enough on Kendrick to put him out of business and into jail. We'll get the money.'
Brady nodded. 'Okay. If you say so, Ed, then we get the money.'
'As soon as you've handed over the loot, you get back to your wheelchair. You stay at the hotel for another two days. There'll be a check, but the cops won't even suspect you. Your papers are foolproof. After two days, you leave. Okay?'
'Yeah. I see that. How about my money, Ed?'
'Kendrick will pay your share into your Swiss bank in a couple of months time.'
'How about Bannion's money -- fifty thousand?'
'He'll also have to wait.'
'Look, Ed,' Brady said earnestly. 'This guy really needs the money. He's got terminal cancer and an idiot child to take care of. To get a real performance from him, I want to promise him he gets his cut as soon as the job is done. Will you advance the money?'
'What's all this about? Who cares? If you feel like this, Lu, you advance him the money,' Haddon growled.
'I would if I had it, but I never seem to have any money,' Brady said. 'Now, come on, Ed. What's fifty thousand to you? Don't let us foul up this sweet job for the sake of fifty thousand. I want to promise Bannion that he gets paid off the moment the job has been done, and I want to keep that promise.'
'At my expense?'
'You're getting eight million, probably more. For the love of Mike, Ed, be human!'
Haddon brooded, then shrugged. 'Oh, for God's sake!' He grinned at Brady. 'You could sell an egg to a hen. Okay, if Bannion does a good job, if you get the Warrenton diamonds, if you get the loot from the boxes, I'll give you fifty thousand for Bannion.'
Brady smiled. 'It's a deal, Ed.' He pushed back his chair and stood up.
'Bannion will do a good job, and so will I. Thanks for a great meal. See you,' and he left the restaurant, got in his car and drove back to the Spanish Bay Hotel.
Chapter 7
Maria and Wilbur Warrenton returned to the penthouse suite soon after 19.00. They had spent the afternoon surf-sailing and Wilbur was pleasantly relaxed. He looked forward to a quiet dinner at the hotel's restaurant, then to spending the rest of the evening watching a spaghetti western on TV.
His hopes were dashed, when Maria said, 'Please get my diamonds. I am in the mood to gamble. I feel I have a winning streak coming. We will dine at the Casino, then we will play.'
So much for the spaghetti western, Wilbur thought as he said, 'But, Maria, I thought we had agreed you shouldn't wear your diamonds away from the hotel.'
Frowning, Maria lifted her eyebrows. 'When I want to wear my diamonds, I will wear them! Why have them if I don't wear them?'
'This city is full of starving, refugee Cubans,' Wilbur said patiently. 'Your diamonds could be a big temptation. There could be a hold-up.'
'Don't be so ridiculous! I am wearing my diamonds! We will leave at eight thirty. You had better change,' and Maria went into her bedroom, slamming the door.
Wilbur thought for a long moment, then he went to the safe, twirled the combination, opened the safe door and took from it a leather jewel case. This he put on an occasional table, after relocking the safe. Then going to the telephone, he called Jean Dulac's office.
'This is Mr. Warrenton,' he said when a woman answered. 'I would like to speak to Mr. Dulac.'
'Certainly, Mr. Warrenton.' The bow in her voice pleased him. A moment later, Dulac came on the line.
'Good evening, Mr. Warrenton. Is there something I may do for you?'
'We are going to the Casino,' Wilburn said. 'Mrs. Warrenton will be wearing her diamonds.'
Dulac who had an uncanny talent for anticipating the wishes of his rich clients, said, 'I understand, Mr. Warrenton. You would like to have an efficient bodyguard to accompany you. That presents no problem. What time will you be leaving?'
'Around eight thirty,' Wilbur said, startled that Dulac should immediately understand the situation.
'Then I will have a reliable bodyguard waiting in the lobby at eight thirty. I will telephone Mr. Hendrick who runs the Casino. A bodyguard will be with you during your stay at the Casino and will accompany you back here. Is that satisfactory?'
'I'll say it is, and many thanks. Mr. Dulac, you run a great hotel,' Wilbur said, and meant it.
'It is my pleasure to serve you, Mr. Warrenton,' Dulac said smoothly. 'Have a nice night,' and he hung up.
Josh Prescott had just finished a dinner of steak and fried onions in the staff restaurant when a bell boy rushed up to him, telling him the Boss wanted him pronto. Cursing under his breath, Prescott hurried to Dulac's office. The time now was 19.30.
'You are to act as bodyguard to Mr. and Mrs. Warrenton,' Dulac told him. 'They are going to the Casino, and Mrs. Warrenton will be wearing her diamonds. I have arranged with the Casino management to have a man take over from you. When you have safely conveyed Mr. and Mrs. Warrenton to the Casino, you will return here and resume your duties.'
'Yes, sir,' Prescott said woodenly, thinking: These bloody rich bitches, showing off their goddam diamonds!
'They will be leaving at eight thirty,' Dulac went on. 'Wait for them in the lobby. Be there at eight o'clock. They must not be kept waiting.'
Prescott remembered he was planning to talk to Anita Certes when she arrived for work. By having to sit in the lobby at 20.00, he would miss her.
'Sir,' he said. 'You should know we have a part time cleaner working on Mr. Warrenton's suite. She is a Cuban, and her husband is being held by the police for murder.'
Dulac flinched. One of his staff the wife of a murderer!
'We can't have a woman like that working here,' he said. 'What is her name?'
'Anita Certes, sir.'
'Very well, Prescott. Leave this to me.'
When Prescott left the office, Dulac telephoned his staff manager who moaned when Dulac told him to dismiss Anita Certes immediately.
'Not tonight, sir,' he pleaded. 'I have no extra staff to replace her. She does a good job. May I suggest I see her in the morning when I will be able to replace her?'
'Very well,' Dulac said, 'but we must get rid of her.'
While this conversation was taking place, and while Prescott was checking his revolver in his office before settling in the lobby to await the Warrentons, Anita arrived. She was early, hoping that the police weren't already at the hotel. No one saw her as she unlocked the staff door, closed and relocked it. She walked silently and swiftly to the women's rest room and locked herself in a toilet.
Sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, she prepared herself for a long wait. She had no intention of going up to the penthouse suite. It was just possible a cop or Prescott would be waiting up there. She would wait until twelve thirty when she would unlock the staff door and then take Manuel and Fuentes up to the penthouse. Thinking about this, she decided the cops would wait in Prescott's office until she had finished her work. She was well aware that the Spanish Bay Hotel would not tolerate cops roaming around to scare the rich and the spoilt.
Sitting in the semi-darkness, she thought of her beloved Pedro. How good it would be when they were on the boat together, heading back to his home! She longed to put her arms around him and comfort him. She felt sure once he was with her, she could nurse him back to health. She would slave in the sugar cane fields, earning money . . . He could lie in bed at his father's house until he was well enough to work by her side.
She slid off the toilet seat and onto her knees. She began to pray that in a few days Pedro and she would be united. While she prayed, Pedro Certes moved from pain ridden life into peaceful death.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Brady, Maggie and Bannion sat in the chalet checking on last minute details for the night's operation. Brady had told Bannion he had talked to the big Boss.
'When we get the loot, Mike,' he said, you and I get fifty thousand dollars. You may have a couple of days to wait, but no longer.'
Bannion hunched his massive shoulders. 'That's great news,' he said.
Maggie patted his hand. 'I love it for you, Mike.' She spoke from her sentimental heart. 'I do hope all will go well for your little daughter. I really mean it.'
Bannion had taken three pain killing pills. Although he now felt no pain, he was worried. He wasn't moving as easily as usual. He found his feet dragged, and there was no spring in him. He suspected he was now dying faster than he thought he would die.
'You have a tuxedo with you, Mike?' Brady asked.
'I have it.'
'I'll fix your face so no one will know you,' Brady went on. 'We both go to the hotel around two o'clock. No one will pay any attention to us. If any
one gets in our way, you will fix them with the dart. Remember the shot must be in the flesh: hand, face or neck. The Warrentons could be in the penthouse by the time we get there. You will dart them. The job shouldn't take more than forty minutes. We return here, hand the loot over to the Boss's man, and then we stay put for two more days. You get your money, and we say goodbye. Okay with you?'
Bannion nodded. 'You can rely on me.'
'I know I can. I know what this job means to you.'
Brady turned to Maggie. 'Now, honey, I don't have to tell you again what you have to do. You keep the hotel dick out of our hair. Now, another thing, and this will make your day. Go to the restaurant and tell the maitre d' I am unwell and won't be eating.'
Maggie's eyes widened in alarm. 'Oh, hon! Are you unwell?'
'You are to tell him that!' Brady snapped. 'I'm fine! When the cops start checking, I want them to know I was in bed, unwell. Get it?'
Maggie gaped for a long moment, then smiled. 'That's smart. For a dreadful moment, I thought --'
'Never mind. You shouldn't think, Maggie. It doesn't do your brain any good. When you go to the restaurant check to see if the Warrentons are eating. See if you can find out if they are off some place for the night.'
'Yes, hon.' Maggie looked anxiously at Brady. 'Can I eat at the restaurant?'
'You can stuff yourself blind,' Brady said. 'Have the lot.'
Maggie gave a squeal of delight.
While they were talking, Bannion was thinking of his daughter, Chrissy. He had telephoned the home twice since he had been in Paradise City. The nurse in charge had been kind and reassuring. Chrissy, she told him, was happy, but she missed him, and kept asking when she would see him. Bannion, remembering those weekends when he was always with Chrissy, felt a pull at his heart. He told the nurse it wouldn't be long. She promised to tell Chrissy.
Half an hour later, Maggie, wearing her best party dress and looking like an escapee from the Crazy Horse revue in Paris, walked into the hotel lobby. She saw Josh Prescott sitting glumly in a chair away from the chattering mob. She moved by him, rolled her hips and gave him her sexiest smile, then she entered the restaurant.
Have a Nice Night Page 13