They walked together through a rest room. The phone box was free and Tyler was connected almost right away. His voice was controlled and Grant was close enough to catch the note of anxiety as Miller fired question after question.
Where the hell were they? Why had he been so long phoning? How many Niggers did Grant have in the car? Had the blonde woman been at St. Julien?
Grant nudged Tyler and shook his head. The man hesitated and then said that he didn’t know what blonde woman Miller was meaning. There was only the Nigger girl. And she had crossed the frontier with Grant five minutes earlier.
Sure. Two coloured girls in all. He didn’t know anything about a third. There had only been two. Sure. The car had last been seen heading for Geneva. It would be there almost any time now.
Grant heard Miller suddenly laugh aloud. ‘Then sign off for now, son. We’ll take over as from here. Be seein’ you.’
He grasped Tyler’s arm and took him back to the car. The man was limping badly and his face was almost ashen grey. His cheeks were dripping sweat and Grant guessed that he was shivering with reaction. The girls were now fully dressed and had made a quick visit to the toilets. Stefanie had retouched her make-up and Winona was smoking restlessly beside her in the rear. ‘What you gonna do wit’ this man?’ she asked.
The car was easing towards the outskirts of Geneva and Grant deliberately slowed down. ‘A few more questions, Tyler,’ he said curtly. ‘Is it true that you are Miller’s private hatchet man?’
The man scowled and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m his personal guard.’
‘And yo’ is a full member of the Klan?’ Sultry’s voice was a husky whisper.
Tyler nodded curtly. ‘Yes.’
‘Working to do what?’ asked Grant.
Tyler slouched deeply into his seat. ‘The Klan’s going to be international.’
‘Meaning that you’re going to help set up branches elsewhere?’
‘Maybe.’
‘But you are a real hundred per cent Klan member yourself?’
‘Sure.’
Winona blew a leisurely cloud of smoke. ‘You belong Alabama?’
The man nodded and Grant saw only the flash of steel as the girl plunged her long knife into the side of his neck. ‘Then that’s fo’ my brother Dave,’ she said briefly. ‘Tell ol’ Satan yo’ had it coming to you.’
Chapter Ten – ‘. . . to leave a bad bad memory.’
Grant stepped on the brake as Tyler lurched against him. The man was fumbling with the blade of the knife and blood was spurting over the windows. Sultry Mbawa and Winona were watching with a judicial impartiality which was terrifying, but Stefanie had leaned forwards to try and do something.
For once he was knocked speechless. And then the full significance of it hit him like a bullet.
He clenched his teeth as he felt Tyler take his last gurgling breaths before slithering downwards towards the floor. Didn’t the bitch know that you couldn’t kill a man just like that? That it took planning: and care: and a lot of thought. Their whole time-table was already out of joint and now the police might be on their tail before morning. Tyler’s body couldn’t be laughed off. It had been mutilated from top to toe. The police would ask questions, even if H.Q. had enough pull to influence Berne and turn off some of the heat.
There was no way of faking suicide.
And Miller’s crowd would already be waiting for them to hit the Messery freeway. For all he knew they might have eyes laid on at the deserted farm to double check that he did his stuff to schedule.
And if they failed to turn up SATAN would have patrols on the roads within the hour.
But his top priority must still be Miller’s death.
He gritted his teeth and continued to slow down while Stefanie heaved Tyler away from his legs and anchored him with the safety belt to his seat. His morning date with Martinez was now a washout anyhow! When two Negro girls were found beside a dead Miller, Martinez would want to know the answers to a lot of questions. But so for that part did his own H.Q. Especially the list of names which made up SATAN’s top men.
His brain continued to race as the lights of the city came slowly nearer.
Sure: he could bump Martinez as well. Though where would that take him? Better bluff it out. But where to lay hold of false papers for the girls? If he could get away with that he could pass them off under different names and H.Q. might still square the police.
Or could they? How much pull would ADSAD have with Swiss authorities who were totally efficient and almost beyond influence by anyone? Switzerland was about the last place in the world he would choose to commit a murder. Back to the beginning. Where to put the body?
He marked an all night garage a kilometre ahead and rapped out orders to the girls. It was used by long distance lorries. Given half a chance there might be one in the parking lot while the crew tanked up on beer and sandwiches at the last halt before the frontier.
There were five articulated lorries parked in series half in the shadows. Two smaller jobs were filling up with petrol and a private car was checking oil. He spoke rapidly to Stefanie and swung into the parking lot. The rear end of the last lorry cut them off from view and Stefanie walked across to the toilets while he rapped out an order to the other two girls. ‘Stay put.’
He moved with deceptive speed and strolled into the darkness. The lorries were deserted. Two were from Germany, one was Swiss and the others Italian. Each was loaded to the limit and four were sealed, but an Italian was carrying wooden crates labelled Dijon and his upstretched arms could just reach the level of its tail-board. He figured there was enough space between the crates to take a body and that given luck he could heave Tyler over the top. If the lorry was south-bound there would be a long delay before it was found.
But first, clothes! His own mark was on both the shirt and pants which Tyler was wearing.
He unhooked the safety strap, down-zipped the flies and ripped off a light-weight shirt. The Negresses held Tyler by his arms while he pulled off the pants and took a last quick look around before chancing his biggest gamble of the night. It would need only one passing car to light up the whole scene, but the road was clear for over two kilometres each way and he could hear voices laughing in the café twenty paces beyond the shadows. There was a juke box playing and a dog yelping in the distance.
He took a deep breath and lifted Tyler from the seat.
The man must have weighed sixty-five kilos or more and his thighs were slippery with blood. Grant staggered slightly as he braced himself against the weight and then walked steadily back to the lorry.
He then gripped Tyler by the neck with his right hand and placed his left on the small of his back. At first he reckoned that he could never make it, but slowly he edged the man upwards until at last he was supported above his head, a leg dangling in front of Grant’s eyes and his arms flopping aimlessly beside his right shoulder.
He measured the distance and slowly heaved.
Grant felt his knuckles graze against the edge of the tail-board and then as he leapt upwards he half twisted in the air and heard Tyler’s body thud against the crates before it thumped down between them. The tail-board quivered for a second and then it was over.
Stefanie was already back in the car and he swiftly reversed on to the exit road. His clothes were foul with blood and dust, his hands were bleeding and smeared with oil and the car had the smell of a slaughterhouse.
‘No time for cleaning up,’ he snapped. ‘And when we do it’s got to be a job which will stand up to the most delicate forensic tests. In fact the only sensible thing to do with this bus is to put it up in flames.’ He paused. ‘But there might be just one long chance of a way out.’
He stopped at the first phone box entering Geneva. Admiral Cooper’s emergency night number could only be used as a top hot line, but if this mission was to succeed H.Q. would have to move like a blue streak.
He was on to Paris in just under three minutes flat.
‘Tre
ble A One speaking. Please send false passports with appropriate entries to flats of Winona X and Sultry Mbawa before morning. Imperative reach before dawn and will try to stall arrival police until then.’
There was a long silence at the other end and Grant caught the note of impatience in the Admiral’s voice as he rumbled into the phone. ‘Is this essential?’
‘Absolutely. And second. Stefanie Carmichael will drive my Maserati back to Paris. Should arrive shortly after breakfast. Suggest wisdom of total cleansing operation enough to satisfy even Professor Juin. Desirable no traces blood be detectable even after most rigorous tests.’
‘Can do. But so help me, David, I’ll have your skin if this call proves to have been unnecessary.’
Grant half smiled. ‘Utterly imperative plant fresh papers in girls’ rooms. Suggest use names Mary James and Dinah Moses. Mary for Sultry and Dinah for Winona. Essential also explain situation as outlined to you tomorrow by Stefanie to Swiss Federal authorities. Object exercise is to deceive a SATAN representative into thinking that the girls used vis-à-vis Miller are different from what he expected. Wish to have one more session hypnosis with Tomas Martinez and this the only way I can figure which could confuse him. Will value co-operation, sir.’
He knew that Stefanie was watching his every movement and he beckoned her to the booth as he hung up.
‘No time for finesse, Stefanie. You drop us at the next garage and then go to Paris via N84 to Bellegarde, Bourg and Chagny. You tell the Admiral everything. But everything. Advise him that I hope to deal with Miller this night: that Sultry and Winona ought to be front page news by tomorrow afternoon, but that they will use false names. Tell him that this will have to be squared with the Swiss Federal authorities who will trace their entry into the country, and get him to locate the Gstaad phone number which is alleged to be local H.Q. for SATAN. Tell him that I hope to bluff Martinez tomorrow and to handle him in one way or another which will give us a clue as to what is happening and as to why Maria Suza died.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Got that?’
She nodded briefly. ‘And the blood inside the car?’
‘She’s tanked up. Refill in the dark. You ought to be in Paris by ten ack emma and the Admiral will be Mister Fix-it.’
‘If I run into trouble en route?’
He kissed her gently and smiled. ‘You won’t. But if you do, phone the Admiral’s special number. Or else contact me at Hancke’s Clinique. I should be there all morning.’
They entered the city by minor roads and stopped near an all night garage in a side street. Grant was convinced that SATAN would still be waiting for them on the right bank towards Messery.
Stefanie handled negotiations and hired a Porsche for a week. The deposit was heavy but between them they carried enough ready cash to have bought the thing. She gave her own address and drove back to the Maserati which was parked a block away and round two corners.
The girl paused as they switched cars. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, David. This whole business has become very untidy.’
He nodded briefly. ‘But all we can do is play it as it comes. I’m stalling for just a little time because I still hope for another session with Martinez. If all goes well Miller will have been found dead in his rooms beside two half-drunk women. There will be police all over the place. They will be taking statements from everyone. Hancke will also want to know where everyone was when it happened and Martinez will be itching to have a go at me. The false names will puzzle him. And I’m going to spin a story which will make him think that I really have killed Winona and Sultry according to schedule but that it was done long before Messery and that I’ve hidden the bodies, which explains why we didn’t go out there as he expected.
‘One bit of him won’t believe me. But the other bit will feel that it just might be true. That somehow he didn’t get his instructions across properly. And then he’ll be wanting to have proof that they’re dead. He’ll want to put me in a trance and find out where they are. Above all he’ll want to know who framed Miller and what mystery lies behind the girls found in his room. Because for sure he’ll know it’s been a frame up. But I doubt if he’ll dare to act without contacting his associates. Which is why the Gstaad number will have to be tapped by the Swiss police. And it will have to be done only by the Swiss police. They’ll be hopping wild at the whole miserable operation and we’re going to have to be able to prove that the set up was big enough to justify breaking the law. So I’m relying on you to get the Admiral to square everything . . . especially tapping the Gstaad number. It is vital that the Swiss Federal big-wigs have proof for themselves that SATAN does exist and that it is using Swiss soil to organise major crimes. Get that?’
The girl looked doubtful. ‘Sure. But I still don’t like it. There are too many loose ends. And anyhow, if you’re not going to Messery what are you really going to do?’
And then he remembered. The three wax dummies. ‘Call in and cancel the order. Pay what we owe and then scram.’
‘You won’t need them?’
He shook his head. ‘Not now.’
Stefanie glanced towards the Porsche. Winona was still smoking and Sultry slouching lazily in the back ‘You can control them?’
‘Sure.’
The girl slipped the Maserati into gear. ‘Then good luck and I hope you know what you are doing.’ She looked at the clock on the black instrument panel. ‘I’ll be there by ten o’clock.’
Grant returned to the Porsche and forced a smile as he turned to the girls. ‘This is it. We go back to Hancke’s Clinique and stop outside. I prepare the way and then smuggle you both to the target area. Okay?’
Winona shrugged her shoulders. ‘I recall saying you were real competent.’
He looked at her steadily. ‘I’ll try to get you both out of trouble, but no more killing without my say-so. And that’s an order.’
The girl drew deeply at her cigarette. ‘Sure.’
A minor road ran down to the lakeside along the edge of Hancke’s estate and Grant parked in a layby near the water where there was a jetty for private yachts and a small boat house which was usually deserted. A path then cut along the edge of the lake through Hancke’s private gardens to enter open lawns with their chalets and pools over three hundred metres away.
‘You stay right here,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes. And if the police come say you’re waiting for your boy friends. There’s supposed to be car trouble.’
He opened the engine flap and disconnected two plugs.
‘Tell any busy-bodies that I’ll be back most any moment. Savvy?’
Sultry waved her hand. ‘Good luck. An’ don’ you worry about anything. Winona an’ me are playing with a full deck.’
He switched on parking lights and leaped the wall into Hancke’s grounds.
The first hundred metres was dead easy, with cover all the way and shrubs tall enough to hide an elephant. Then there was an open stretch of flat lawn leading to a gravel path which ended at a building which he knew was reserved for physiotherapy. It was in total darkness and he kept to the side nearer the lake as he edged towards the cluster of chalets nearly two hundred metres further on. He could see the pool and the outline of his own quarters. There was a light in Martinez’ room but the other buildings seemed to be deserted.
An asphalt path then curved in a gentle parabolic sweep to the Spaniard’s chalet. It was lined with tall hydrangeas and he had to pass the house before he could reach Miller, but he had already decided that if Martinez was not already asleep he must be put out of action.
The wooden gable of the bedroom was now only two paces ahead and he picked his way on tiptoe to the window. Martinez was lying on top of the bed wearing a yellow silk dressing gown splashed with blue polka dots but he seemed to be listening and his eyes kept darting restlessly to the phone.
The man was a sitting target. But only for gas. He looked at the window. It was open six inches or more from the bottom. The Spaniard was no
w less than three paces away, his door was open and chances were that there was a direct through draught. He slipped off his left shoe. The man was lying at an angle to the window and Grant guessed that he would see nothing. Especially since there was only one small bedlight above his head. He clenched his fingers around the heel and sighed with relief as he felt it pivot and heard the crackle of glass. The glass containers were fragile and Grant smiled as he realised that Martinez had heard nothing. He cautiously passed the shoe through the open window holding it just inside. Martinez stirred slightly and then Grant saw him stiffen. He jumped to his feet and opened his mouth to shout as he saw Grant’s body silhouette against the blackness outside. But his hands began to clutch at his neck and Grant remembered what he must be suffering, the flashing lights and stupefying sense of impotence which the gas induced with even one sniff. The man’s face was now livid and although he was struggling to scream every nerve in his throat seemed to be paralysed.
His movements became weaker and he staggered towards the bed. His heel tripped against a square of Afghan carpeting and then he collapsed on the sheets.
Grant opened the windows, tiptoed round to the front of the house and cautiously pushed open the door. The place would have to be clear of gas before anyone else arrived.
And now Miller!
He continued to keep in the shadows as he eased quietly towards the man’s quarters and stopped beside the half open door. Grant could hear him breathing inside and guessed that he was awake. He looked at his ring and again drew the magnetised case of his wrist watch across the signet. The needle swung upright and although he heard it gently sneck into position he tested it carefully, checking that the thing was bone rigid before he eased himself inside. Miller was sitting in a chair holding a pair of night glasses towards the entrance gate. He could see the headlights of the odd late bird car and Grant guessed that the man was watching for the Maserati.
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