1978 - Consider Yourself Dead

by James Hadley Chase

  ‘Didn’t it work?’ he asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.

  Umney sat down.

  ‘The bastard laughed at me!’

  Goble screwed up his eyes.

  ‘Didn’t you lay it on the line, Ross? About the other guy, about . . .’

  ‘Lay it on the line!’ Umney shouted. ‘I gave him the works but he laughed!’

  Goble pushed the plate away. The sight of the hamburger suddenly sickened him.

  ‘Lu agreed that was the way . . .’

  ‘I don’t give a goddamn what Lu said!’ Umney exclaimed. ‘I’m telling you, Mitch! We were crazy in the head to get mixed up with Frost! You’ve always said he could be too smart! Now, I’m telling you he’s going to become more than too smart! He says he is coming after us, and he’s going to kill us! If you had seen his face when he said that, you’d be in my state! He’ll do it! That look on his face! Jesus! I wish to God I hadn’t listened to Lu!’

  ‘Where is Lu?’ Goble asked.

  ‘In bed and asleep,’ Umney snarled. ‘We played it the way we agreed. While I talked to Frost, Lu stayed back with the rifle. When I was through, Lu took a shot at Frost. I wish he had killed him! When I told Lu Frost was going to kill me, he told me not to worry. He said Frost was no problem! Imagine! You know, Mitch, there are times when I wish I had never had anything to do with Lu. He’s crazy or something!’

  ‘Get a grip on yourself!’ Goble snapped. ‘Lu’s never steered us wrong. We wouldn’t be where we are without him.’

  ‘Now where are we?’ Umney demanded. ‘We’ve got this bastard gunning for us!’

  At this moment the telephone bell rang, making both men start. Goble snatched up the receiver, listened, then talked.

  Getting up, Umney poured himself a big shot of Scotch.

  His nerves were fluttering so badly what Goble was saying made no sense to him.

  Goble hung up.

  ‘That was Hi-Fi. I sent him down to the airport in case Frost took off. Hi-Fi says Grandi’s Lamborghini is in the car park and Frost hired a Mercedes from Hertz. Frost could be heading for Miami for a New York flight.’

  ‘No! He’s coming after us, Mitch! I know it!’ Umney banged his clenched fists together. ‘We are crazy to keep this light on! He could be out there with a rifle!’

  Goble walked up to Umney and hit him across his face.

  ‘Wrap up! We’ve got to find Frost before he goes into action. Lu has gone to bed. Could be Frost has also gone to bed. So we start checking the motels. I’ll take the westside. You the eastside. Come on, Ross! How many finks have we set up for Lu? This is just another fink! Get started!’

  After half an hour, Goble called the Twin Oakes motel.

  He had called four other motels, now he struck gold.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ a voice told him. ‘A man booked in half an hour ago. He had a Mercedes. He is registered in the name of Peter Jarrow.’

  ‘Tall, dark, good looking?’

  ‘That is an exact description, sir,’ the voice said, now sounding worried. ‘I hope there is no trouble.’

  Goble had identified himself as Sergeant Baski of the Paradise City traffic control.

  ‘Routine check,’ Goble said. ‘No problem,’ and he hung up. He was so pleased with his quick success he didn’t take into consideration the night clerk’s reaction.

  As Goble ran to the door and bawled down the passage, ‘I’ve found him!’ the night clerk who had lived in Paradise City all his life and was on good terms with the police, slowly replaced the receiver. Sergeant Baski! This was a name unknown to him.

  The night clerk who was a seventeen-year old student, doing night duty to earn a few dollars while he worked for a master’s degree in economics, decided that a call from the police about a routine check at 03.50 was more than odd.

  He called the police headquarters and asked the night duty sergeant to be connected with Sergeant Baski, traffic control.

  The night duty sergeant said in a bored voice, ‘You have made a mistake. We don’t have any Baski. What’s this all about?’

  The night clerk hung up.

  Two minutes later, the sound of the telephone bell woke Frost. He came awake, alert, and became even more alert as he listened to what the night clerk told him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I have a drunken friend who starts trouble. Forget it, but thanks all the same.’

  Frost slid off the bed.

  So they had found him! Silk could be out there in the darkness, waiting for him. Frost groped around in the dark, found the rifle, then dropping flat, he edged open the cabin door and looked out into the night.

  The sky had a purple light. The palms and the shrubs were sharp edged against the coming dawn. In another ten minutes, it would be dangerously light.

  Frost felt completely relaxed. This was the kind of warfare he revelled in. Moving like a silent snake, pulling the rifle with him, he crawled into the open.

  Nothing happened. Nothing moved.

  He decided it was too soon for Silk to take action, but he took no chances. He reached the Mercedes as the edge of the sun came up behind the trees. With one swift movement, he had the car door open and slid in, ducking down, he waited. His built-in instinct showed him the green light.

  He started the car and drove fast towards the Ace of Spades.

  * * *

  Silk lifted his head off the pillow and glared with his one eye at Umney who stood in the doorway.

  ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep!’ he snarled.

  Umney moved into the room, snapping on the light.

  ‘Frost is at the Twin Oakes motel,’ he said excitedly.

  ‘You can take him!’

  ‘Get the hell out of here,’ Silk barked. ‘I’m trying to sleep!’

  ‘Lu . . . for God’s sake! Frost is dangerous!’ Umney came to stand at the foot of the bed. ‘This is the time to fix him!’

  Silk rolled on to his back and yawned.

  ‘I made a deal with Grandi and I stay with it,’ he said. ‘We are going to break Frost’s nerve. What’s the matter with you? You want a piece of the money, don’t you? We rush this and Grandi won’t pay. Leave me sleep!’

  ‘All you have to do, Lu, is go to the Twin Oakes motel and nail him!’ Umney said. ‘If you don’t nail him now, he’s going to nail us!’

  ‘Get the motel staked out,’ Silk said. ‘We wait. I can take care of Frost any day. Turn that goddamn light out. I want some sleep!’

  With a sick feeling of fear and frustration, Umney turned off the light and returned to the room over the swimming pool.

  ‘He’s crazy!’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘He says to stake out the motel and when he’s ready, he’ll take care of Frost. He says Grandi won’t pay unless it’s slow! Jesus! While we’re farting around, Frost could come after us!’

  Goble had just finished the hamburger.

  ‘Take it easy, Ross. No need to get excited. I’ve alerted Louie to watch the motel. He’ll be there in twenty minutes. Frost won’t do anything. He’s not all that stupid. If Lu wants it slow, we do what he wants. He’s never been wrong, so quit yelling.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m going to bed. Look at the goddamn time.’ He walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. ‘Look, the sun’s coming up.’

  He presented an irresistible target to Frost, hidden by the flowering shrubs. Frost lifted the rifle, aimed and gently squeezed the trigger.

  The top of Goble’s head exploded, scattering brains and blood, and he went down like a stricken elephant, taking with him the table and two chairs.

  For a brief paralysed moment, Umney stared, then threw himself on the floor as another bullet smashed the screen of the big TV set by which he was standing.

  Umney, his heart hammering, sweat pouring down his face, lay still. To his horror, he found his hands were lying in Goble’s blood.

  Hearing the two rifle shots and the thud of Goble’s body as it hit the floor, Silk swung off the bed, slid into a black shirt
and black trousers and into sandals. His movements were fast but unflustered. He snatched up the target rifle, crossed the room in two swift strides and stuffed a .38 automatic into his hip pocket, then he opened the door and stepped out into the half dark corridor.

  His thin lips were drawn back in a snarl of fury.

  ‘Ross! Mitch!’

  He started down the corridor, then paused as he saw Umney come crawling out of the room above the swimming pool. Umney was making a gibbering noise of fear.

  The sun was now above the trees and there was enough light for Silk to see Umney’s bloodstained hands. He moved by Umney and peered into the room.

  A beam of sunlight fell directly on Goble. One quick look told Silk all he wanted to know. He reached forward and pulled the door shut, then putting down the rifle, he caught hold of Umney by his shirt and dragged him upright.

  ‘I told you! I warned you!’ Umney said hysterically. ‘He’s out there! He’s going to kill us both!’

  Silk slammed him hard against the wall, shook him and then slapped his face.

  ‘He’s not going to kill you and he’s not going to kill me!’ Silk bit off the words. ‘Mitch was unlucky, but not us. Okay, so he’s out there. He’s on our ground! We’ll take him!’

  Shaking, Umney stared at Silk.

  ‘He’s killed Mitch!’ he cried. ‘He’s out there! If we show ourselves, he’ll shoot us! You said you could take care of him, and now look what’s happened!’

  Scarcely listening, Silk’s mind was busy. The whole operation had been an utter foul-up, but, at least, out of the mess, he had got Grandi’s promise to pay two hundred thousand dollars to kill Frost, but the agreement had been to make Frost sweat, and not to hurry the killing. Silk realised now he had greatly underestimated Frost. He should have listened to Umney’s warning that Frost wasn’t going to be scared. Frost had had the nerve to come out here and kill Mitch. The chances were that Frost was still out there, rifle in hand. Silk was very confident in his own shooting. If Frost was out there, then he was as good as dead. Silk was determined to earn the promised money, but he wasn’t going to take any chances unless he was sure of getting the money.

  ‘Stay right here,’ he said to Umney, and he moved swiftly to the office. The curtains were drawn but, taking no chances, Silk snatched up the telephone, sat on the floor, away from the window, and called the Spanish Bay hotel.

  The time now was 04.55.

  At first the night reception clerk refused to connect Silk with Grandi’s suite at such an hour, but when Silk said there was an emergency, he did so.

  Grandi’s voice came on the line. Silk was surprised how alert Grandi sounded, but he wasn’t to know Grandi had been sitting by the window all night, mourning for his daughter.

  Speaking softly, Silk explained the situation.

  ‘There are two things I can do, Mr. Grandi,’ he concluded. ‘It’s for you to decide. Frost has killed my partner. I can call the police and they’ll take over and arrest Frost. He’ll talk. The newspapers will headline your daughter. The best solution would be for me to fix him right now if he is out there, and I think he is. But before I go hunting for him, I want to know I get paid. What’s it to be?’

  ‘Kill him now and you’ll get paid,’ Grandi said, a snarl in his voice, and he hung up.

  For a minute or so, Silk remained on the floor, his evil smile in evidence. He thought, then nodding, he got up and joined Umney who was leaning against the wall of the corridor, his face ashen as he breathed in frightened gasps.

  ‘Grandi says take him now,’ Silk said. ‘So, we take him.’

  Umney stared at Silk, horror in his eyes.

  ‘Not me!’ he quavered. ‘This is your end of the pitch! I’m staying right here!’

  ‘He may have gone,’ Silk said, ‘but we’ve got to find out. Now you are going through the door, Ross, with your hands on your head and you’re going to yell I’m not here and not to shoot. Then when he shows himself, I’ll take him.’

  ‘You’re crazy! The moment I show myself, he’ll kill me!’ Umney began trembling.

  ‘No, he won’t. He wants me. Come on, Ross, get going!’

  ‘No! You can’t do this to me, Lu! I’m not going! I’m not going to walk out there to be killed!’

  Silk transferred the rifle to his left hand and jerked out the .38. He held the barrel within inches of Umney’s sweating face.

  ‘Make up your goddamn mind!’ he snarled, his face a mask of vicious fury. ‘If you don’t get moving in ten seconds, I’ll blow your head off!’

  Umney sucked in his breath with a sob.

  The look in the one glittering eye told him he was within seconds of death.

  ‘Okay . . . okay . . . I’ll go.’

  Silk stepped back.

  ‘Take it dead slow. Start shouting as soon as you open the door. He won’t kill you, but I’ll nail him. Get going!’

  Umney stumbled down the corridor to the door leading into the garden. Silk shoved the .38 into his hip pocket, then moved silently after Umney, the rifle now in both hands.

  Umney looked beseechingly at him as his hand fumbled for the door handle.

  ‘Yell loud!’ Silk said, ‘and hurry it up! He may have gone.’

  * * *

  As Frost saw Goble reel back, blood on his face, then drop out of sight, he felt a surge of elation run through him. He saw a movement of white through the window and immediately fired again. He heard the smash of glass as the TV tube exploded.

  Then moving swiftly, crouched down, keeping under cover of the flowering shrubs he changed his position some fifty yards further away.

  He paused and flattened out, knowing he was completely concealed. He wondered if he had killed Umney.

  He thought not, but with luck he could have winged him, but he must still count two against one.

  He lay there, listening, but heard nothing. He was able to survey the whole front of the restaurant. There was no cover. If either Silk or Umney came out through the front entrance, they would be committing suicide. There was probably a side or a back door. He wanted them penned up in the restaurant. Once they were in the open they could split up, and that would shorten the odds in their favour.

  Moving silently, still behind the screen of shrubs, Frost surveyed the left side of the restaurant and saw a door at the head of a short flight of wooden stairs. He kept moving, and around the back of the restaurant he saw the staff entrance. This was bare of cover. He decided if they were coming out they would use the side door. He moved back until he was some sixty yards from the side door. He was in a perfect position: complete cover, yet with a clear field of fire. He settled down to wait.

  By now the sun had come up behind the trees, casting lean shadows. Frost looked at his watch. The time was close on 05.00. He wondered at what time the staff would arrive. If Silk and Umney elected to stay put, under cover, he would have a problem, but he doubted if they would.

  They would have to get Goble’s body out of sight. Silk wouldn’t want to get involved with the police. Silk had to try to kill him before the staff arrived.

  A half hour crept by, but Frost was used to waiting. He remembered he had waited four long hours in the jungle for a sniper to show. He relaxed, the rifle at his shoulder, aimed at the door and waited.

  There was no sound except the distant traffic, no movement except a hawk floating in the sky.

  Then the side door opened and Umney stood in the doorway, his hands clasped on top of his head.

  It would be a difficult shot, Frost thought. The angle was wrong. He couldn’t risk a miss.

  Umney screamed, ‘Don’t shoot! Lu’s not here! I’ll help you find him! Don’t shoot!’

  Frost’s mind flashed back into the past. He was once faced with exactly the same situation. He had cornered a Viet sniper who had yelled to him that he surrendered.

  From out of the thicket where he was hiding, the sniper had thrown his rifle which had landed near Frost. Then the sniper had appeared, his hands in
the air, and Frost had fallen for it. He came out of his hide, his rifle level.

  The sniper took off his conical straw hat in which was concealed a hand grenade. As Frost shot him, the hat floated towards him. For a split second, Frost had watched death floating towards him, then he dropped flat. He had spent two months in a field hospital with splinter wounds, but he had survived. He had promised himself that if ever a man came towards him with his hands in the air, he would shoot first, and apologise later.

  He rose up on one knee to correct the angle of fire.

  Silk lying on the floor of the corridor, peering through the open doorway, caught the movement, but Umney was in the way.

  Umney was yelling at the top of his voice. Silk didn’t dare shout to him to drop so he could nail Frost. He didn’t want Frost to know he was there.

  Frost shot Umney through the head as he reached the bottom step, then Frost dropped flat, but he wasn’t quick enough.

  As Umney was falling, Silk got a clear line of fire and squeezed off a shot. The bullet went through Frost’s ribs and his arm, ploughing a furrow through the flesh of Frost’s chest. He glimpsed Silk, scrambled back, out of sight. He fired. The bullet whistled by Silk’s face and sent wood splinters flying. One big splinter smashed Silk’s glass eye, bringing blood running down his face. Cursing, Silk retreated further down the corridor.

  Frost, feeling blood soaking his shirt, crawled away. His Army training stood him in good stead, and like a snake, silent and not moving the shrubs, he reached a clump of trees away from the side door without drawing any more fire.

  He looked at his bloodstained shirt, flexed his fingers, grimaced and told himself it could have been worse.

  How that one-eyed bastard could shoot! he thought.

  Well, it’s between the two of us now. One against one . . .fair enough. Silk’s expertise with a rifle against his expertise as a jungle fighter. It bothered him that he was bleeding, but he had bled before. He took out his handkerchief, made it into a pad and, using his belt, strapped the pad against the wound. Then he crawled away to another position where he had a clear view of the side door, and he settled down to wait.