Grant shook his head. ‘They only mentioned two names, Leonardo and Zero. And the secretary. But no other name.’
‘Finished,’ said Juin abruptly. ‘So long as you are satisfied, that is.’
The American again sipped his drink and nibbled the remains of an ice cube. He turned to Grant. ‘This is a very serious matter. You are still totally under my control. But in a short time I shall be going away and you will never think about me or feel that you are dependent on me. You will forget me. But . . . you . . . will . . . not . . . forget . . . my orders. The Spaniard can no longer use you and you will not harm the coloured girls because you now have the ability to deceive both Miller and the Spaniard into thinking that you are in their power but . . . you . . . will . . . never . . . be . . . in their power. My own power over you is now fading and in a moment you will awaken feeling refreshed and strong. You will be alert and ready for anything.’ He paused for a few seconds. And then: ‘Already you are beginning to recover. Your sleep is getting lighter and lighter. You are going to waken and be alert, refreshed and fit. You are starting to awaken from what has been a deep deep sleep and when I snap my fingers you will return to normal. You will ask for tea and you will forget all that has been going on until five minutes have passed and then you will ask Professor Juin if he will play over the tapes which we have taken. You will ask him to play the tapes in five minutes. Meanwhile you will awaken when I snap my fingers. You are now almost awake.’ He touched Grant’s eyes and smiled as the corneal reflex worked. Already Grant’s jaw muscles were tightening and his hands were relaxed on his thighs. His eyes were more alert: more intelligent: and his feet had begun to move. ‘You are normal,’ said Neville. ‘You can move every muscle. You can feel pain. You can feel weights and sense heat. You are awakening. And when I snap my fingers you will be returned to alert everyday life. And you will feel refreshed.’
He snapped his finger and thumb.
Grant looked round the room and smiled. ‘Well, I feel just fine.’ He stared at Juin and rubbed his chin. ‘I remember,’ he said slowly. ‘I sent for you. And this is Neville, the hypnotist. I remember you touching me. And then I seemed to black out.’
Juin poured a cup of tea. ‘But now drink this and let me think. Have a cigar or something.’
Neville had poured more pineapple juice and was staring out of the window.
Grant was unexpectedly silent as Juin studied some notes, and his cigar was showing an inch of glowing ash when he turned to Juin. ‘How about playing over these tapes?’
Neville nodded approvingly. ‘Very good. I told you to do that while you were under. A simple little test. But reassuring. It helps to show you that the other things we have arranged will also work.’
Juin looked steadily at Grant. ‘You are due for some surprises. Some of them should please you. Others,’ he added slowly, ‘will shock you. But in these spools we have the basis on which you will have to build your immediate campaign. And I tell you they are dynamite.’
He switched on the machine and watched Grant like a hawk as the younger man sat and listened to a story which almost shook him rigid.
And at last it was over.
‘Right.’ Grant stubbed out his cigar. ‘Perhaps you’d better let the Admiral hear this lot and then brief him as to how I propose to handle it. But first: when do you leave?’
Juin glanced at the clock. ‘When we are ready. It is a chartered Heron. We can take off on half an hour’s notice. A phone to the airport before we leave here will do.’
Grant was walking slowly up and down the floor like a caged lion. ‘One or two things to tie up first. But tell the Chief that I ought to be O.K. in re getting access to the girls. Clearly if I’m supposed to bump them off nobody’s going to stop me taking them for a ride after dinner. So I collect Maria Suza first: then Winona and after that push off to St. Julien for Sultry.
‘Then clearly I must head for Messery, which means returning to Geneva. Which also means that they don’t need to tail me because they can check up when I point east along N5. Nor do I really expect anyone to be on my tail because they’ll probably play it cool and see us arrive at Messery. Just checking that everything is on schedule. Which again means that I can dump the live girls somewhere on the way, load the car with three tailor’s dummies and hope that the half light will do the rest either at the farm or on the road.
‘Stefanie,’ he added, ‘can arrange to have the girls wait for me at a suitable place after I drop them off coming back from St. Julien. I’d suggest they take a taxi back to the city and rendezvous with me at Ba-Ta-Clan after I have tied up loose ends at Messery.’
‘Meet where?’
‘Pronounced the way it is spelt. Ba-Ta-Clan. On the left bank near Madelaine. Two modern upstairs rooms with dancing and a floor show. Bit dashing. More girls with fewer clothes than you see anywhere else in Switzerland. Just the place for four beauties like our quartette to blend into the background. International. All colours. I’ll pick them up there around midnight, but tell them that the place doesn’t open till eleven.’
‘Tell them!’ Juin raised his eyebrows.
‘Tell Stefanie,’ said Grant briefly. ‘I daren’t contact her until tonight but possibly you can. And get her to find three wax models because we must seem to have three women in the car. We can pick them up at the store by arrangement. Money talks anywhere.’
The Professor nodded agreement. ‘I take the point. And where will you be meanwhile?’
‘Back at the Clinique. But I’ll leave after dinner and take damn good care that Martinez or Miller, or both, see me go.’
‘And after you meet the girls at Ba-Ta-Clan?’
‘Then we move into action. I had a good look round the grounds yesterday and again this afternoon from the lake. We can enter direct over the wall and find cover most of the way to Miller’s chalet.’
‘And then? Do you expect him to rise and let you in?’
Grant looked at him sourly. ‘Possibly. But anyhow the girls will either wait outside or in my own place until I’m ready for them.’
‘Martinez?’
Grant’s eyes became very cold. ‘I’ve got something special for him. The object of this exercise is to kill and discredit Miller. Okay! That can be taken care of. But we’ve got a chance to wipe out SATAN as well and Martinez is the key.’ He paused. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a man so much as I want Martinez. This thing has become personal.’
Neville rose to his feet. ‘I’ve a rather unusual memory, Doctor, so between us we should remember everything you’ve said. But take care of yourself.’
Grant shook hands. ‘I’ll do that . . . after I’ve taken care of SATAN,’ he added.
Chapter Nine – ‘Tell Satan you had it comin’ to you.’
Grant checked in at the Clinique in time for early dinner.
Martinez and Miller were sipping apéritifs near the pool and he forced himself to be socially formal. Until it occurred to him that Tomas would feel easier in his mind if his ‘subject’ showed real respect: a feeling of dependence. ‘Had a good day?’ he asked quietly.
The Spaniard smiled. ‘Very good. And you?’
Grant shuffled his feet. ‘Sort of. It went kinda flat after this morning. I enjoyed listening to you.’
Martinez raised his hands in an oddly deprecating gesture. ‘Then we’ll have some more tomorrow. But right now, for this evening, I’ve got business to discuss with Mr. Miller.’
Grant looked flustered, offered another cigar and then strode to his chalet. He guessed that Martinez’ vanity had been flattered, but remembered a sadistic glint which had darkened Miller’s eyes.
He lay for an hour on his divan and then went back outside. The other two men still watched him curiously as he hesitated. And then: ‘Got things to do in the city,’ he said curtly. ‘Back later.’
Martinez gave a brief nod. ‘See that they are done properly.’ His voice was cold and his eyes granite hard.
‘I’ll do my best,
’ said Grant. ‘Not quite sure yet when I’ll be back.’
The Spaniard again stared at him with eyes which reminded Grant of a cobra. ‘You will only come back when your work is complete. We shall not wait up for you.’
They watched him walk towards the car park, and as he eased down the main exit road he could see them mark him through their glasses. His jade green Maserati was probably the most conspicuous car in Geneva that night but he had a strong hunch that he would be safe until he again cut east along the south bank of the lake for Messery.
He pointed towards Maria Suza’s pension and the same woman opened the door. ‘Quite a party she’s having. You are the second in half an hour.’
He paused. ‘Another man?’
The woman smiled. ‘An elderly gentleman. Very charming.’
‘And he is still here?’
She nodded. ‘He ordered tea to be sent up in an hour. Not the custom in this house, but he was old so I decided to be agreeable.’
‘Than take me up.’ There was a tight ball of fear at Grant’s stomach as he paused outside the room.
He glanced at the parquet. A trickle of blood was dribbling under the door. The woman saw it in the same second and suddenly paled as he struggled with the handle and heaved with his shoulder.
Maria Suza was dead. A knife was still sticking in her breast. The letter ‘S’ had been scratched on her chest and her mouth was gagged with a plug of sponge rubber fixed with a strip of Elastoplast which ran round her head. Her fingernails had been broken and there was a bruise on her forehead.
Grant flashed his visiting card and thrust the woman on to the landing. ‘Telephone the police. Say that I’ll see them tomorrow morning.’
And it was then that she screamed.
Cursing, he leapt downstairs. He would have to do it himself. The phone lay on a table beside the door and the police arrived within ten minutes. But the patronne was still unfit to talk and he was counting seconds.
The Inspector was both efficient and formal, but it was over an hour before Grant was able to sign a statement and run back to his car. He glanced at his watch. Ten-thirty! Almost an hour behind schedule.
But why? For what demented reason had they killed Maria after preparing him to do the same thing a few hours later? There could be only one of two answers. Either a second gang had muscled in or else SATAN’s internal organisation had slipped up. And he couldn’t afford to think.
The sight of the girl had made him see red. He swept the Maserati to Winona’s rooms and took the stairs three at a time. A housemaid smiled as she opened the door.
Miss Winona was expecting him.
The girl was dressed and in her room. She was wearing a green two-piece Swiss jersey knit suit and her eyes were dancing with excitement.
‘Yo’ li’l bit late, sir.’
He nodded briefly. ‘A little bit. Car’s outside.’
And Stefanie ought to be at St. Julien with Sultry Mbawa. He edged the girl downstairs. ‘We’ve got to move, honey. Step on it.’
There was a full moon, but Winona paused for a moment to look at a huge golden reflection in the water. The lakeside was alive with the headlights of cars and Grant knew that there might well be more delay at the frontier. ‘On your way,’ he repeated, ‘this time we’re really going to burn the tarmac.’
The Maserati snaked out of Geneva with a low pitched snarl which thrust them past everything. There was a chain of fifteen cars ahead at the Douane, but he would have bet a grand that they had not been tailed as they crossed the barrier and Grant gave the car her head. She could almost drive herself and he settled back to put Winona in the picture.
Action this evening.
With another girl. Everything would be used. Pictures. Drink. The lot. Miller would be killed and the girls would have to check that they were word perfect for police and newsmen alike.
Winona broke into a throaty giggle. ‘What else do you think I’ve been doin’ heah fo’ three days,’ she said. ‘I know what to say.’
‘Does the name Sultry Mbawa mean anything?’ Grant guessed that the girls might have preferred to work solo.
She shook her head. ‘But s’long ’s she’s up to standard, sir, I’ve got no complaints. Two gals make a better story an’ we want to fix Miller’s gang prop’ly.’
‘Then that’s fine.’ He settled himself in his deep bucket seat and switched to overdrive. ‘And you’ve got nothing to worry about, we’ll get into the place no bother.’
She smiled. ‘I said that yesterday to Miss Stefanie. You look competent.’ She lit a cigarette and thrust it into a long amber holder. ‘We want to fix Miller’s crowd real good, so you can rely on me to do my stuff fine an’ neat when the time comes.’ She wriggled comfortably. ‘This is good work for my people. Miller, the Klan an’ everything are real bad.’
He drew the car up outside the Savoyarde. ‘Ten seconds, honey, and stay put. Speak to nobody.’
Stefanie was waiting for him upstairs. He gave her the headlines and then gripped Sultry by the arm. ‘We go into the car first. And you, Stefanie. Soon’s it begins to move come out like a blue streak and pile into the back. I still don’t know for sure that we’re not being watched but there are reasons why they wouldn’t expect me to have you with us on this trip so I don’t think I’ve been followed, though they may have a check at this end—just to make absolutely certain that their plans are running on course.’
Sultry pressed his hand close to her side. ‘I’m kinda flustered. You sure ever’t’ing’s gonna be okay?’
He forced a smile. ‘Dead sure. And now get moving.’ He turned to Stefanie. ‘Keep close, but not too close.’
The street was almost deserted and Winona was still smoking. But there was only one other car in sight as he glanced towards the front door of the Savoyarde and got a glimpse of Stefanie poised for action.
He gave the engine the gun and saw her dive outside and leap into the back as the Maserati did a U-turn.
Five kilometres out of the town he suddenly pulled into a layby and stood on everything while a car zoomed past at a fast rate of knots and he got a glimpse of the number plate. There were three fives in it and he would have bet it was a dark green Chev.
He swung out into the centre of the road. The Chev’s tail light was disappearing and he sensed that it had dropped speed. He felt the Maserati jump to his touch and it leaped forward almost with the thrust of a rocket. They were doing over a hundred k.p.h. on a snaky road when he managed at last to sit on its tail.
His headlamps threw the driver into silhouette and he marked the same squat head on broad thick shoulders. He had last seen them at the Rhône and guessed that it was the same man.
‘Difficult,’ he said over his shoulder to Stefanie. ‘If he’s honest this is asking for trouble but if he’s what I think it would be suicide to let him go. So we take a chance.’
He threw on the full force of all his headlights and pressed the horn.
The Chev hesitated and the man mounted the crown of the road as Grant narrowed the gap between them. He touched his specially built-in siren and the whining blare echoed through the hills as he flicked his lights.
He saw the driver study them in his mirror and for a split second their eyes met, but he narrowed the gap still further until only centimetres separated them. And then he slowly veered to the left until his bumper touched the bulging fender of the French car. It was a caress more than a bump, but as soon as contact had been made he stood on the gas and span his wheel to the right. The Chev was literally flung off the road. He got a glimpse of its tyres threshing the grass verge as the driver fought to control it, and then he stood on the brakes, stopping almost level as the Chev dived towards a cluster of shrubbery and crashed with its nose against a tree.
He streaked down the embankment to reach the door before the driver could open it but there was the flash of a shot and he heard the ppht of a low calibre bullet zip past his head.
He flung himself sideways and a sec
ond bullet ripped through his sleeve as the Chev’s driver came out firing from the hip.
Grant flopped to the ground and pulled out his cigarette case. His fingers were pressing the monogram while he fumbled with the other hand for his Smith and Wesson. And although he was prepared for it he felt that S.A.M.’s ear piercing surge of electronic decibels would blow his head off. The figure beside the Chev stopped as though he had been struck rigid while Grant covered his ears with his hands and left the case lying on the ground.
His senses were stunned by the nerve racking din behind him but he wriggled forwards on the grass and gritted his teeth with pain as he forced himself to take deliberate aim.
He didn’t even hear his own shot, but he saw the man drop and grasp his thigh as he raced back to the gleaming patch of silver on the ground and pressed the release mechanism. The noise cut out and he was left, swaying with the agony of a throbbing earache and the feeling that every sense in his body had suddenly been thrashed to smithereens. He heard an echo quivering in the far distance and then Stefanie was beside him.
‘Get back to the car,’ he said curtly. ‘And if anything happens to me go direct to Paris. With the girls,’ he added quietly, as he felt himself steady up and then tighten his grip on the gun while he edged slowly towards the figure crouching twenty paces away.
Stefanie had eased the Maserati forwards and the glow of its side lights picked out detail. The man’s eyes gleamed red in the reflection and then he dived for the ground. His pistol had fallen near his feet and his fingers were closing on it when Grant landed on the angle of his jaw with a left hook which grazed his knuckles.
The man gasped and staggered backwards.
Grant was on top of him in the same second and fell across his stomach with a force which drove the breath out of the man’s body in a hissing gurgle. He pulled out his handkerchief and stuffed it into the bleeding mouth. And then he chopped him expertly on the side of the neck. The body went limp beneath him and for a split second Grant relaxed. His luck had been dead in and the road was still deserted as he dragged the man back to the car and heaved him into the back.
Kisses From Satan Page 10