Such Power is Dangerous

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Well, maybe—let’s say a word about the last time we met. I figure you recollect that.’

  ‘Yes.’ Avril nodded. ‘It was when you took me from the police-court to my hotel in your car.’ Never would she forget that awful day and the terrible night that had preceded it.

  ‘That’s so. Now see here, Miss Bamborough, I don’t want you to think I’m sore about that bail business—I’m not, ten thousand bucks ain’t a lily pod to me, and I’ll hand it to you for making your getaway the way you did. That certainly was smart business.’

  ‘That’s very nice of you, Mr. Hinckman, then may I ask what you do want?’

  ‘Just a little business arrangement, that’s all.’

  ‘I see—I thought as much.’

  Then you’re a smart woman.’ He drew a bulky paper from His pocket and waved it gently in front of him. ‘All you have got to do is to sign this little agreement. We’re going to cry quits about any differences we may have had in the past, and I guess you won’t have to worry your pretty head about business in the future, either—you’ll be a rich woman for life.’

  ‘Can you give me any reason why I should sign any document that you choose to produce?’ Avril enquired.

  He twirled the cigar in the corner of his mouth. ‘Because you’re a sensible kid—that’s why—an’ I guess you know where you get off.’

  ‘I’m glad you think that, and as it happens you’re quite right.’

  Hinckman nodded, misunderstanding her meaning. He spread the paper out on the table at her side. ‘This is just a little deal between you an’ me, you’re turning over your shares in the Hatfield Company to me for a period of six months, and I’m undertaking to issue the equivalent to you in the Combine stock as and when the Combine’s floated. If that’s not before six months is up—I get an option to continue the agreement for a certain period. If the Combine don’t get going your shares are returned to you all complete—but I guess you needn’t worry about that part. The Combine’ll get going all right—I’ll see to that.’

  ‘Dear me, how kind of you to—what is it called?—let me in on the ground floor, Mr. Hinckman.’

  He suddenly realised that she was laughing at him. ‘Don’t be a plumb fool,’ he said angrily. ‘You sign right here or it’ll be the worse for you.’

  She stood up quickly. ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘You won’t—but if you do there’s just one heap of trouble coming your way.’

  ‘Are you threatening me as you did my uncle?’

  ‘No—I guess I don’t have to.’

  She was standing within a foot of him, her eyes blazing into his. ‘I refuse,’ she cried. ‘I refuse absolutely.’

  ‘Think again,’ he snapped. ‘If I once say the word, you’ll regret it—an’ how! Now take this as a warning. If I do what I’ve a mind to do there ain’t no drawing back—and you’ll be for it. Be sensible an’ I’ll save yer skin.’

  ‘Threats,’ cried Avril. ‘Just as I thought. Now listen, Mr. Hinckman, I’ll give you a warning in return. I’ve been to Scotland Yard today and I’m under police protection. It’s you who’ll be for it, if you try any more gang murders.’

  ‘Yeah? You don’t say!’ he sneered, then suddenly he laughed. ‘Police protection, eh? well, if that don’t beat everything! Now do you sign—or don’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay.’ He stepped to the door and flung it open. ’I’ll give you police protection…. Come right in, Rudd!’

  Avril felt a sudden tremor of fear run through her at that well-remembered name. Her maid had said nothing of another caller, but Hinckman must have left him in the passage. Yes, it was Captain Rudd—the little fat American detective who had plied her with questions so remorselessly in Hollywood.

  He stepped right up to her at once, producing a sheet of paper from his pocket.

  ‘Afternoon, girlie. I got a warrant here for your extradition to America—on the charge of murdering Angelo Donelli.’

  19

  A Life Sentence

  Captain Rudd took Avril to Scotland Yard in a taxi, where various papers regarding her arrest were signed, and she was duly handed over to the British Police for safe custody. There the American detective left her. Avril was heartily glad to see the back of him, his presence called up too vividly her memories of Hollywood Police Headquarters and the third degree.

  Half an hour later she was removed from Scotland Yard to Hollo way in a prison van.

  At the time of her arrest she had been too stunned by Hinckman’s bombshell to realise the full significance of her position, but on the way to Holloway she began to see clearly all that she had to face.

  There could be no question now of citing Nelson as the man who had shot Donelli. If she did, it was quite possible that they would convict him. Directly his name was mentioned in the case the motive would stand out with terrible clearness, and there was this new evidence which Smithson had unearthed about the man running off into the hotel garden—that would support her original story to the police. If Nelson was convicted he would get fifteen years at least. Avril gave a little shiver as she thought of that. It was quite clear that she must take the blame upon herself and plead self-defence.

  The thought of what that would mean appalled her. All the horrible publicity which the gutter Press would give to such a case. The sordid details of that loathsome little Italian’s brutal attack, with full-page photographs of herself for the lewd-minded to gloat over. But worse—it meant the journey back to Hollywood as a prisoner. She could imagine the gaping crowds upon the station platforms and the boat. Her features were so well known that she would be recognised everywhere, and then, most horrible of all, the weeks or months perhaps, in an American prison before the trial came on. Nevertheless she did not consider for one moment any other course. She loved Nelson, loved him desperately, she knew that now beyond all shadow of doubt. Those awful moments when she had feared to lose him for ever, in the fire the night before, had shown that to her plainly. She was prepared to go through anything to save him.

  When she arrived at Holloway she asked that Mr. Ledger should be informed of her arrest, and that she would like him to come to her at once. After some little delay she learned that he had left his office early that afternoon, but his partner had taken the message and Mr. Ledger would come to the prison first thing the following morning. Then she sent word to Nelson at the Dorchester, that he might know at once of Hinckman’s latest and most devastating operation.

  As she sat in her cell she realised why Hinckman had tried so hard to persuade her to agree to his wishes before he sprang his mine. Hinckman could set the law in motion, but even he could not stop it functioning, once he had called it in.

  He had not secured Hatfield as he had hoped, but, by this drastic action following upon the fire, he had completely quelled any opposition to the Combine.

  It would be impossible now for her to make Nelson’s picture, and she doubted if he would be able to get any other competent actress at the eleventh hour, who would be willing to work at such high pressure. It meant fourteen hours a day with emotions keyed up the whole time, day after day without rest or intermission for fourteen days. Nothing but a tremendous determination, engendered by a vital personal interest, could provide the endurance to carry it through.

  Nelson might decide to make a shorter film, but that would not serve his purpose. It would be enough to show the possibilities of his invention to the trade—but he was at war with the biggest people in the trade, so they were useless. He needed a film that he could exhibit to a wealthy audience, in order to arouse their interest and float a public company upon their money.

  It seemed now that the last hope was gone of marketing the projector in time to pay Vandelstein his ten million, and save Nelson’s Pacific shares. He would find his own Company and Mozarts in the hands of the Combine, with Hinckman at its head, overwhelmingly triumphant.

  Avril tried to comfort herself with the thought of Nelson’s love for her,
yet that seemed a ghastly tangle, too. There was Vitelma to be settled with. The blonde Venus might be selfish and shallow perhaps, but Nelson had undoubtedly been extremely fond of her two months before. Try as she would Avril could not rid herself of the thought that she had come between them, and she hated it. If Nelson had been thinking about her during these past two months, what chance could he have given to Vitelma. It did seem terribly unfair to the girl, if she really loved him.

  She began to wonder what Nelson would be feeling after he got the news of her arrest. Poor darling, he had been living under an appalling strain ever since his father’s death, she hoped that this would not prove the last straw and crack him up completely.

  Her miserable conjectures regarding their respective woes were interrupted by the wardress, a pleasant, buxom woman, bringing her dinner. The food was simple, but of a much higher standard than Avril had expected in a prison, and with a little kindly coaxing from the sympathetic wardress, she managed to make quite a respectable meal. Directly afterwards she went straight to bed.

  She lay awake for a long time turning the situation over and over in her mind until her brain was weary with it, but she dropped off at last, and not having undergone the terrible ordeal to which she had been submitted under the same circumstances in Hollywood, she slept soundly. When she awoke in the morning she found her brain clear and her body refreshed.

  But a new shock awaited her, and one for which she should have been prepared, although for some reason it was a factor which she had failed to take into consideration.

  Immediately after breakfast she was led to the Governor’s room. He greeted her kindly and asked her to sit down, then he smiled at her across his desk.

  ‘Well, Miss Bamborough, I hope that you haven’t found your short stay at Holloway too unpleasant. We have to observe the regulations, of course, but we do everything that we can to make prisoners on remand as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure,’ said Avril uncertainly. ‘Everybody’s been most kind to me.’

  He bowed gallantly. ‘I’m very glad to hear you say that, and I’m sure it’s not often we receive such a charming guest, but all the same I don’t doubt you’ll be very pleased to hear that I have received instructions to release you.’

  Avril’s first feeling was one of relief, but it soon gave place to astonishment. What could have happened? Had Hinckman only wanted to frighten her? Was something technically wrong with the warrant for her extradition? Then suddenly a fearful thought came into her mind. Surely it was impossible he wouldn’t be such a fool. She leaned forward quickly.

  ‘Why,’ she said, ‘why, of course I’m pleased you are letting me go, but why is it? What has happened since yesterday?’

  ‘Well, it’s really not my province to discuss these things:’ He leaned back in his chair and tapped his finger tips gently together. ‘But of course I know the reason for your arrest—some shooting affair in America, wasn’t it? I remember reading about it in the papers at the time.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Avril impatiently, ‘yes, that’s right.’

  ‘You broke your bail, I believe, to return to England, and of course the American Courts have the right of extradition, but that will not apply now. It seems that a young man gave himself up last night, made a clean breast of things, Druce, I think his name was.’

  Avril groaned. Oh, the sweet, stupid fool, what madness had possessed him.

  She pulled herself together as well as she could, and thanked the Governor. He placed a paper before her which he requested her to sign, then, having ordered her coat and hat to be brought to his room, he showed her out himself. A policeman secured her a taxi.

  Avril drove straight to her lawyer, hoping that he would call at his office before going to see her at Holloway as had been arranged. It was early yet, only a quarter past nine, if she were lucky she would catch him. She had every faith in elderly Mr. Ledger’s capacity for handling the ordinary legal business of the family, but little confidence in his ability to advise her in her present trouble—nevertheless, she felt he should be able at least to find out for her what was likely to happen to Nelson and if it would be possible for her to see him.

  As the taxi threaded a way through the traffic towards the Gray’s Inn, Avril sat forward on the edge of the seat. She was really worried now, and infinitely more unhappy than she had been the night before. Then, she had felt that there might be many miserable weeks in front of her, but eventually she would be freed, now it was a case of Nelson’s life. If he had confessed, how could he defend himself?—at best he could only ask for the mercy of the court and plead his father’s assassination as extenuating circumstances. A complete acquittal was out of the question. He had said himself that it would mean fifteen years in prison at least.

  She beat her clenched fist angrily upon her knee. Why? Why? Why had the dear beloved fool given himself up? He might have known that she would willingly have gone through the miseries of a trial to save him. What were a few weeks, compared to fifteen years? She thought of the ghastly life that awaited him in one of the overcrowded American prisons, among the gangsters and hardened criminals, the scum of the world, all the worst elements of America’s mixed population. How could a man like Nelson Druce, an intellectual—carefully nurtured—used to every comfort that money could buy, stand that? He would go mad, or if he survived, come out a hopeless, broken wreck, prematurely aged and filled with bitterness against the world—the thought was too terrible to contemplate.

  For a moment Avril considered returning to Holloway and asking to see the Governor again, telling him that she had shot Donelli in self defence, and that Nelson had made a false confession with the object of taking the blame upon himself because he was her lover. But even as she thought of it she realised that it was no use, they would never believe her. The evidence that Smithson had secured about the man running off into the garden would tell against that story now—and Nelson’s own confession had damned him utterly. He had not been suspected before, but now he had associated himself with the crime, the motive stood out so clearly.

  All thought of the Combine had passed from Avril’s mind, but when, for one brief instant, she did think if it, she damned it roundly. This wretched Combine had got them into all their troubles from the very beginning. Hinckman had won—hands down. Well, let him have his Combine—she didn’t care—he could have Hatfield too for that matter if he wanted, the whole miserable business was a mere bagatelle, if only she could see a glimmer of hope for Nelson himself.

  ‘Well! Well!—my dear young lady,’ said Mr. Ledger, and a very great deal besides in much the same strain, when Avril caught him at his office. With infinite patience and marvellous restraint, she managed to acquaint him with the situation. It was no easy task, since some of the facts seemed almost beyond his comprehension, but at last she succeeded in making clear her wishes.

  He delved into a number of weighty calf-bound volumes that had obviously not been opened for years, and eventually brought the younger Mr. Style to his assistance; the whole affair then had to be explained again.

  Mr. Style was a bright young man with very moderate good looks. He was a prominent member of the Beckenham Tennis Club, also of the local dramatic society, and evidently fancied himself as such, but despite his obvious eagerness to impress Avril with his very ordinary personality, he proved of considerable assistance.

  He was anxious to help and capable without being clever. There were some further delays while he did some telephoning, then he informed her that Nelson Druce had been removed to Brixton Prison. It was unlikely that he would be transported to America during the present week, and that his London representative and lawyer were with him now. Further, that it would be impossible for her to see him that day, but application should be made in the right quarter and he hoped she would be able to do so the following morning. He then offered himself as an escort.

  Avril thanked him as nicely as she was able in her highly nervous state, but declined his off
er. She thought that a warder would probably be present when she saw Nelson, and she could not bear the thought of having this self-satisfied little man with her.

  She returned to her flat in South Audley Street, still frantic with anxiety for Nelson, but at least comforted with the thought that she would be able to see him.

  How she got through that day she never afterwards remembered. She went to bed and got up again. She had slept well during the night, but she felt that even if she had had no sleep for a fortnight she would not have been able to sleep now. Every petty worry in the world seemed to assail her. Three of her more intimate friends, whom she had not seen since Uncle John’s death, thought it time to call and express their sympathy in person. An electrician busied himself in her flat the whole afternoon, following her from room to room with smiling apologies, and an irrepressible desire to discuss the weather and the cricket at Lord’s. Colonel Frampton Parker turned up and she simply had to see him, she dared not offend him openly. Reporters and photographers beseiged the place owing to the report of her arrest which had appeared in the previous evening’s papers, and then to crown it all, she received an insulting telegram from Hinckman, who showed a callous humour with which she had not credited him. It read: ‘Great stuff, kid, congratulations on release, accept Combine’s sincerest thanks, Hinckman.’ Of course, he knew, and she knew too, that she was only a pawn in the game compared to Nelson Druce—his surrender meant their complete and overwhelming victory.

  By the evening Avril was in such a state of nervous tension that she decided to ring up her doctor. He was a youngish man with a pleasant manner and plenty of practical good sense. She knew him well enough to tell him something of her miserable situation, and after twenty minutes’ quiet talk he had steadied her considerably. He sent her to bed with a promise that he would call himself at her chemist’s on his way home, and have a dose made up for her which would ensure her sleeping, then he left her.

  She did not feel equal to dinner, but her maid brought her a tray in bed with some cold soup and raspberries. While she was toying with the fruit a Mr. Drefus rang up. He said that he was a partner in Drefus and Drefus, the solicitors, and that he was acting for Nelson Druce. He had been in communication with young Mr. Style regarding her visit to Brixton Prison, and at Nelson Druce’s request he would call for her if it was agreeable at two-thirty the following afternoon. She had told Mr. Style that the morning would be impossible for her, since Uncle John’s funeral was to take place at eleven o’clock.