by Jack Higgins
She started to turn away and hesitated. ‘My place is only twenty minutes’ walk from here,’ she said diffidently. ‘I make good coffee.’
Before he could reply, the door in the alley at the side of the Garland Club opened and someone came out. Shane grabbed the girl by the arm and rushed her into the darkness of a near-by doorway. She started to protest, and he pulled her close, one arm around her shoulders.
She chuckled deep down in her throat and pressed her soft young body against him. ‘Now I call this a real improvement,’ she said, and Shane gently laid a finger across her lips as two people emerged from the alley.
His eyes burned out of the darkness as Laura Faulkner and Steele crossed the pavement to her car. She stood with one hand through the open window, fondling the dog’s muzzle, and Steele talked to her in a low voice. Once he laughed and laid a hand on her arm in a familiar manner, and then she got into her car and drove away.
Steele started along the pavement, passing the doorway in which Shane and the girl were standing. Shane pulled her close, hiding his face against her, and Steele gave them a casual glance and moved on.
Shane stepped out of the doorway and watched him turn the corner, and there was bitterness in his eyes. From behind him Jenny said, ‘Now what was all that supposed to be about? Are you interested in her, too?’
He turned quickly, a frown on his face. ‘You’ve seen her before?’
She nodded. ‘She’s been visiting him at the club ever since I’ve worked here, and that’s almost two years now.’
He started to walk along the street, hands thrust deep into his pockets. His face was like a mask, the skin drawn so tightly over the bones that in the pale light of the street lamps it resembled a skull, and there was a cold, killing rage in his heart.
Laura Faulkner had made a fool of him. She had visited him earlier in the evening for one reason only. To get him out of his room to give Steele, or one of his henchmen, a chance to look for the gun. The most damning thing of all was the fact that she herself had suggested that he leave the Luger behind. The whole thing had been cleverly planned from beginning to end. They’d banked on the fact that he’d ask her to go for a drink. If he hadn’t, she would have probably suggested it herself.
He paused on the corner, debating his next move, and then suddenly he felt tired. More tired than he had felt in a long time. Laura Faulkner could wait until their appointment. He sighed deeply. At least one good thing had come out of it. He now knew for certain that something was being concealed from him. What it was he didn’t know, but that could wait until the following afternoon.
He started to move forward, and Jenny Green said, ‘Hey, what about me?’
He turned, surprised to find she was still there, and then a slow smile came to his face. ‘Didn’t you say something about coffee?’ he said.
She grinned and slipped a hand inside his arm, and together they turned out of the square and walked towards the main road.
She lived in a street at the back of the university, lined with old, brownstone houses, each with a narrow strip of garden running down to the road. Her flat was on the top floor, and when she opened the door and switched on the light he found himself in a large, comfortable living-room.
She kicked off her shoes and smiled at him, an expression of relief on her face. ‘I must wash my face and change into something comfortable,’ she said. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a minute.’
He wandered about the room, examining things. Through the half-open door of the bedroom he caught a glimpse of her standing in front of a mirror unfastening her stockings, and the contours of her supple body stood out boldly under her nylon slip.
He turned away quickly, his throat dry, and sat down in a chair by the fire-place. When he picked up a magazine his hands were shaking slightly, and his breathing was ragged and uneven. Somewhere he could hear water running as a tap was turned on. A few minutes later she walked into the room, pinning her hair up at the back of her head.
She was wearing an old quilted dressing-gown and fur-lined slippers. Her face was scrubbed clean, and without her make-up she looked startlingly young and innocent.
She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. Shane lit a cigarette and went and leaned in the doorway, and there was puzzlement in his voice. ‘How the hell did you get mixed up in this sort of life?’ he said.
She turned, suddenly serious. ‘Don’t get any wrong ideas. I’m in show business - not the other thing. Anyone who gets invited up here gets asked because I like him and for no other reason.’
He smiled gently. ‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’ She started to spoon coffee into a jug, and he went on. ‘How did you come to work for Steele?’
She carried the coffee into the living-room on a tray, and he followed her. ‘It was the old story. All my life I wanted to be an actress. I was raised, if you can call it that, in a Manchester slum. I went to London when I was seventeen, got a job in a shop during the day, and enrolled as a student at evening classes in a third-rate drama academy.’
‘It sounds like a bad plot,’ Shane told her.
She nodded. ‘Finally, I thought I knew enough to get a job in the theatre. I haunted the agencies for nearly three months and was handed just about every proposition under the sun - all of the same kind, naturally. Finally I managed to get a job as a dancer in a cheap touring revue.’
Shane grinned. ‘Red-nosed comedians and strip I suppose.’
She nodded. ‘It folded in Burnham, and Reggie Steele offered me a job.’
‘With no strings attached?’ he said.
She shrugged, and handed him his coffee. ‘He had a passing fancy for me at first, but it didn’t last. It never does with him.’
He gave her a cigarette, and they sat in silence for several minutes. She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, and Shane stretched out his legs and tried to relax.
It was impossible. Her dressing-gown had fallen slightly open and revealed the long, breath-taking sweep of thigh, and his stomach churned as he remembered how she had looked through the half-open door of the bedroom.
It had been a long time since he’d had a woman. Too long. He got to his feet and walked restlessly over to the window. A policeman passed under the lamp outside, his cape streaming with rain, and Jenny Green said quietly, ‘You’re in some sort of trouble, aren’t you? Real trouble, I mean.’
He turned and faced her with a slight smile. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
She nodded slowly. ‘You look the kind of man who could handle most things.’
There was an expression that was almost amusement in her eyes and his throat went dry. He drew a deep breath and said, ‘I suppose I’d better be going. It’s getting late.’
She smiled faintly. ‘Must you? You can stay here. I’ve got plenty of room.’
He shook his head. ‘Thanks for the offer, but there might be an important message waiting for me back at my hotel.’
She moved very close to him and looked up into his face. ‘I saw you in the mirror watching me undress.’
He clenched his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. ‘I just happened to be passing the door.’
She chuckled deep down in her throat. ‘Why do you think I left the door open?’
His palms were moist, and in his stomach a knot slowly hardened. When he gripped her arms, his hands were trembling. ‘It’s been a long time, Jenny. A hell of a long time.’
She reached up on tiptoe and gently kissed him on the mouth. ‘Give me two minutes,’ she said and disappeared into the bedroom.
He stood gazing into space for a moment, and then he picked up his trench-coat and walked to the door. As he started to open it she called softly to him. He hesitated for a moment, and then, with a smothered curse, threw down his coat and crossed to the bedroom in three quick strides.
For a moment, as he stood in the doorway, he caught a breath-taking glimpse of her lying there waiting for him, and then she swit
ched off the lamp and laughed softly at him from the darkness.
10
HE awoke shortly after dawn. Rain had drifted in through the partly opened window during the night, and damp curtains flapped listlessly in a slight breeze. The girl was sleeping, head turned slightly away from him, black hair spread across the pillow. He felt completely relaxed and content, and after a while he drifted into sleep again.
When he next awoke he was alone. There was a note on the pillow to say that she’d gone to the club for the lunch-time show. He glanced at his watch. It was almost twelve-thirty and he swore softly, remembering his appointment with Laura Faulkner.
He dressed quickly, and then went into the kitchen and snatched a hasty breakfast of coffee and toast. Twenty minutes later he left the flat and walked briskly into the centre of the town until he came to a taxi rank.
The fog had lifted a little, but it was still raining steadily when he left the cab outside her house and walked towards the front door. Somehow the place looked more neglected and run down than ever, and he followed the path around to the back of the house and walked down towards her studio.
He mounted the steps, and as he paused outside the door the Dobermann growled. He opened the door and stepped inside.
She was working at the easel, a look of concentration on her face, and as he entered she blushed like a young girl, as if remembering how they had parted the previous night.
‘Hallo, Martin,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you could come.’
She was wearing the tartan trews and the Spanish shirt knotted at her waist, and it came to him, almost with a sense of wonder, that she was beautiful.
When he spoke his voice sounded calm and easy. ‘I almost didn’t make it. I overslept.’
She raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘Didn’t you go to bed when I left you?’
He lit a cigarette and said calmly, ‘As a matter of fact I had rather an unsettling night. When I got back to my room I found I’d had a visitor.’
Her eyes were suddenly wary, but she kept her gaze studiously on the painting. ‘And who was that?’
He moved across the room until he was standing looking over her shoulder. ‘Whoever it was, took my Luger. I sat down and thought about it real hard, and I remembered that only two people knew I had it. You and Reggie Steele. It couldn’t possibly have been you, so I decided I’d better have a word with Reggie.’
Her voice was still calm, but her hand shook slightly when she dipped her brush into the paint. ‘And what did he have to say?’
Shane shook his head and said softly, ‘I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. He was deeply engaged in conversation with someone else when I got there.’
There was a moment of silence, and she still kept on painting. Sudden anger lifted inside Shane, and he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her round. ‘You told me you’d never met Reggie Steele,’ he said, his fingers biting into her flesh. ‘You lied to me. I want to know why.’
There was a sudden, frenzied growling as the Dobermann hurled itself across the room. As Shane released her, Laura Faulkner grabbed for the dog’s collar, pulling it back. She leaned down and spoke softly into its ear, her hands gently fondling its ears, and after a while it retreated to the divan and lay down again, its black eyes fixed unwinkingly on Shane.
When she turned, her cheeks were flushed and there was anger in her eyes. She took out a cigarette and lit it with shaking fingers, and when she spoke there was a slight tremble in her voice. ‘If you try to lay a hand on me again I’ll let the dog tear your throat out, and believe me - he can do it.’
Shane moved back until he was leaning against the wall. When he spoke, his voice was level and calm. ‘All right, let’s cut the dramatics and get down to some hard fact. When I first spoke to you, you told me you’d never met any of the men who’d known your brother in Korea. Last night I saw you coming out of the Garland Club with Reggie Steele, and from what I’ve been told you’ve been visiting him there regularly for years.’
She took a few nervous paces away from him, and when she turned there was real anger in her eyes. ‘All right. You’ve asked for some hard facts - I’ll give you some.’
She untied the knot at her waist, pulled the blouse from her body with one fluid motion, and stood facing him. ‘Now don’t start getting any silly ideas just because I’m treating you like an adult.’
She was wearing no brassiere and her breasts were superb, full and ripe, with delicate nipples. A sudden dryness clutched Shane by the throat, and then he saw the scar and sucked in his breath. It started beneath her left breast and ran up into her shoulder, a jagged line of white showing clearly against her tanned skin.
He swallowed hard. ‘Who did it?’
She quickly pulled on the blouse and knotted it again at her waist. ‘My loving brother Simon,’ she said. ‘Or step-brother, I should say, because that’s what he really was.’
Shane shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Simon?’ he said. ‘But I don’t understand.’
‘It’s easy. When he was drunk he was capable of anything. One night he tried to get fresh with me. We struggled, knocked over a table with some liquor bottles on it, and I fell on one of the broken bottles.’
‘And what did your father have to say about it?’ Shane said.
She shrugged. ‘My father thought the sun shone out of him. Who was I to disillusion him? I told him it was an accident. That we’d just been fooling around. The only good thing that came out of it was that Simon left me strictly alone after that.’
‘He was always wild,’ Shane said, ‘but I never thought he was as bad as that.’
She laughed tightly. ‘Oh, there’s worse to come. After my father’s stroke, Simon took control of the firm. For two years he spent money like water - other people’s money. The day he met you in that bar he was just one step ahead of the law. The accountants were due the following week, and he was in too deep to be able to cover it up.’
Shane’s eyes narrowed. ‘So that’s why he volunteered for Korea?’
She nodded. ‘It was rather clever really. The last place the police would think of looking. We had no idea where he was until we received news of his death from the War Office.’
Shane sighed. ‘He certainly paid the bill in full at the end.’
She threw back her head and laughed harshly. ‘You think so, do you? As far as I’m concerned he could never pay. My father had a second stroke when he heard. It’s left him in the state he’s in today. It took almost every penny we had in the world to make good those losses to the firm.’ She turned and added bitterly, ‘Perhaps you’ve noticed the condition of the house and grounds.’
He nodded and said slowly, ‘This is all very interesting, and it tells me things about Simon I never knew, but he’s dead and buried now. What has it got to do with you and Reggie Steele?’
She moved to the window and spoke without looking at him. ‘He came to see us when he’d been back from Korea for about six months. It was just after he opened his first club. I’d been so wrapped up in looking after father I hadn’t had time for men. He paid a great deal of attention to me, and I rather lost my head. He can be very charming, you know.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Shane said drily.
She didn’t seem to notice his remark. ‘I wrote some rather indiscreet letters to him during our affair. I finally realized what a swine he was and tried to break things off. He asked me to go down to his office. He produced the letters and sealed them in an envelope which he addressed to my father. He’s been holding them over my head ever since.’
‘And what’s his price?’ Shane said.
She coloured slightly. ‘I’m on call when he wants me.’
Shane’s hands clenched and he swore softly. ‘The lousy bastard.’
She fumbled for another cigarette. ‘It isn’t as bad as it sounds. Sometimes he forgets about me for months at a time, but then he remembers and I get a phone call.’
‘Haven’t you ever considered going to the pol
ice?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s the one thing I dare not do. My father has his lucid moments - times when he’s completely normal. The shock of another scandal would kill him. I’m not going to risk that.’
There was a moment’s silence, and then Shane said slowly, ‘What about last night? Did he ask you to get me out of my hotel room?’
She moved close to him, her face grave, and laid a hand on his arm. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with that. If Reggie stole the gun, then he did so without telling me.’
‘Then why did you visit me last night?’
A slow blush spread across her face, and she dropped her gaze. ‘I meant what I said,’ she told him. ‘I was worried about you.’
He slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her face until he was looking directly into the amber eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ He smiled briefly. ‘For what I thought and for what I said.’ He turned away from her and walked to the door.
As he opened it she said in a worried voice, ‘Martin - what are you going to do now?’
His face was expressionless. ‘I think I’ll have a long talk with Steele,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I can help him to see the error of his ways.’ He closed the door as an expression of shocked dismay appeared on her face, and walked away before she could protest.
He caught a bus into town and went straight to his hotel. As he entered the dingy foyer, the young receptionist was standing in front of a large mirror on the wall, adjusting a stocking. She hurriedly pulled down her skirt and glanced round.
A smile appeared on her face, and she tried to look coy. ‘I’ll have to be more careful in future,’ she said as she went behind the reception desk and took down his key.
She was wearing an expensive gaberdine suit and had obviously just been to the hairdresser’s. Shane grinned as he took his key from her. ‘You must have come into a fortune.’
She raised her arms and turned, slowly. ‘Like it?’
He nodded. ‘I certainly do, but it must have cost a packet.’
She shrugged and a cunning expression appeared in her eyes. ‘That’s what comes of having the right kind of boy friend.’