by David Dodge
‘So you may understand that a slip of the pen will serve no purpose, Mr Farr, that is the signature which the Banque Suisse accepts against your dollar balance with them. I have been careful to verify it. Make out a check to Louis Roche, under today’s date. The amount will be one hundred thousand dollars.’
Somebody released a long-held breath. There was no other sound but the faint purr of the idling motors.
Freddy looked thoughtfully at the two slips of paper for a long moment.
‘A hundred grand,’ he said at last. ‘That’s a nice round sum. Suppose I do write the check. Then what?’
‘Roche will go ashore with it and the letter you have written, take the train to Nice, and fly from there to Geneva. I shall allow him a day for the journey, a day to transact his business, and a day to return. During that time the Angel will disappear from sight, as you have announced that it would disappear. At the end of three days we shall return here to rendezvous with Roche, pick up the money, and leave the yacht. You will have lost a small proportion of your fortune to us instead of to the roulette wheel, and suffered no other harm — provided, of course, that you and your guests behave yourselves.’
‘Very tricky.’ Freddy was wide awake now. ‘There’s a hole in it, though. How do you know your boy is going to come back with the money? What’s to keep him from pulling out for South America as soon as he gets his hands on it?’
‘You underestimate me, Mr Farr.’ Holtz gave his wolfish grin. ‘Your friend Krug - he has been investigated as thoroughly as you have, believe me - is not a man to permit a hundred thousand good American dollars to travel without an escort, particularly since you have invited him to keep an eye on it. It will arrive safely enough. Draw the check.’
‘I’m not as sure about it as you are. I’ve got to have a guarantee. If he double-crosses you, do you double-cross me?’
‘You are in no position to make demands, Mr Farr.’ Holtz was no longer grinning. ‘I do not bargain. Draw the check.’
Freddy shook his head, laid down the pen he had been holding, and folded his hands on the desk in a gesture of finality.
‘No dice,’ he said.
Only he, because Holtz stood to one side and behind him, failed to see the beginning of the blow the gang leader struck. To the others it was an action as calculated and as unemotional as the driving of a nail. The heavy pistol rose and fell like a hammer on the unprotected hands clasped on the desk-top. Freddy screamed, and screamed again.
Cesar was out of breath by the time he had run all the way back to Sûreté Publique. The clear fact of his urgency won him a quick audience with the Bureau sous-chef, a conscientious public servant with bags under his eyes who had listened patiently to a thousand stories of fantastic happenings in the Principality, many of them true. His name was Neyrolle. He chain-smoked Gauloises and made quick notes on a pad of yellow paper while he heard Cesar out. The trouble with Cesar’s account of the rape of the Angel was that he told it, in all good faith, as he imagined it must have happened, and his imagination was colored by the detective stories that Michaud had rightly accused him of favoring. Neyrolle’s note-taking grew more infrequent as Cesar went into the details of the piracy. It finally stopped altogether.
He said, ‘Where were you when these acts of violence occurred?’
‘Why - why, here at the Bureau, or on my way here with the rest of the crew. Because of the phony permis, as I have explained.’
‘I understand about your visit to the Bureau. What I do not understand is how at the same time you could have been an eyewitness to the forcible seizure of the yacht by the two men whom you accuse of the crime.’
‘I wasn’t exactly an eyewitness. I –’
‘Then how can you be so certain that the violence took place?’
‘It had to take place. The captain is no man to let his ship be grabbed without an argument.’
‘How do you know that the ship was in fact grabbed?’ Cesar had a dismayed feeling that time was running out, for him and the Angel alike. He said pleadingly, ‘Your honor, there are certain to be eyewitnesses if you must have eyewitnesses. I did not myself look for them. I came here first so you could stop the getaway. The Angel is still only ten minutes out of the port. Send a boat after her, put a squad of flics aboard, seize these gangsters before they can do harm. Eyewitnesses can come later.’
‘You have used the word “gangsters” several times, monsieur. I know the meaning of the word, even though Monaco has so far fortunately escaped the fact. But assuming for the moment that you are correct in your analysis of the characters of two men with whom you had only the briefest of conversations, what would be the purpose of a gangsterism involving the Angel? You understand? I am trying hard to understand the reason for your certainty that a gangsterism has taken place, when all you know for a fact is that the Angel has sailed unexpectedly.’
‘Loot! The yacht itself! An escape from vengeance!’ Cesar flung his arms wide in an appeal for more action and fewer questions. ‘A ravishment, perhaps! There are two women aboard, and one of them would tempt a monk. I do not pretend to know the reasons for it, only that the Angel was grabbed! I came here as quickly as I could so you could get busy!’
‘Quite rightly, too.’ Neyrolle drew a reluctant line through the notes he had made on his pad. ‘Unfortunately - or perhaps I mean fortunately - you have given me nothing on which to take action. M. Farr’s yacht seems to have left port with little regard for its crew, I grant you. But M. Farr is notoriously disrespectful of conventions, and his failure to settle accounts with his employees is not the kind of a misdemeanor for which I should be inclined to pursue the Angel with a boatload of police. Unless you can give me some concrete evidence of the commission of a crime, I am helpless.’
‘But the phony permis! The trick to get us out of the way!’
‘It is something to be looked into, certainly. Do not misunderstand what I am saying. You were right to come here, and I have every intention of investigating. My office is here for that purpose.’
‘Investigating!’ The steward was almost in tears of frustration. ‘Every minute you waste investigating, the Angel gets farther out of reach!’
‘M. Farr publicly announced his intention of taking the yacht out of the Principality, for reasons adequate to him. It is no crime.’
‘And the two gangsters? The rough stuff?’
Neyrolle said wearily, ‘What two gangsters? What rough stuff?’
‘There had to be rough stuff! I tell you –’
‘Please do not.’ Neyrolle pushed a button. ‘I am a busy man. If there has been a crime committed, my staff will learn of it and take proper steps, I assure you. You will help most by dictating an account of what you have told me to the clerk outside, and leaving an address where you can be reached. Thank you for your cooperation.’
Minutes later Cesar walked moodily back towards what had been the Angel’s mooring. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. Once he kicked at a loose pebble in his path and said aloud, angrily, ‘There had to be rough stuff!’
Neyrolle, at the same moment, was giving orders to one of his agents. ‘Go down to the port and see if you can find anyone who noticed anything unusual about the departure of a motor-cruiser from the south jetty within the last hour,’ he said. ‘The Angel. American. I don’t expect you to turn anything up, but go on the assumption that you will.’
Neyrolle was a conscientious man, even though he lacked Cesar’s imagination.
Shock had dulled the initial agony of Freddy’s broken hand by the time Blake got him below. Roche went along to stand guard in the doorway of Blake’s cabin while he did what he could for Freddy with the contents of a first-aid kit. The other prisoners had been hustled to their own cabins by Jules and locked in.
Holtz’s cool orders to Blake had been, ‘Patch him up and bring him back. We’ll try again,’ but Blake knew that it was not pity that allowed Freddy a respite from immediate further violence. Holtz wanted to gi
ve the lesson time to take effect. If so, it was not necessary. Freddy was thoroughly terrified.
‘The guy is crazy, Sam!’ He moaned as Blake examined his injured hand. ‘A sane man couldn’t do that to another human being! Who is he? Where did he come from? How did he get aboard?’
Blake told him all there was to tell while he split a tongue depressor, padding the pieces with cotton to make splints. The forefinger of Freddy’s left hand was broken. Freddy cringed, sweated and swore as Blake splinted the fractured bone. He did not think that it was set properly, but Freddy could not stand the pain of manipulation. Blake could only immobilize the finger and hope for the best.
‘God, that hurts!’ Freddy whimpered. ‘I ought to be in the hospital! You’ve got to get me out of this!’
‘I don’t know just how to go about it. I tried crashing the jetty, but they were too much for me. How does it feel now?’
‘It hurts, of course! Get me a drink! I need a drink!’
‘You’ll have to wait until you go topside. There isn’t anything here.’
‘I’m sick!’ Freddy caught despairingly at Blake’s arm with his good hand. ‘I can’t go back up there! If I don’t sign that check, he’ll - he’ll - God knows what he’ll do, Sam! Can’t you get to the radiophone, or send up a rocket or something?’
‘With a gun looking down my throat, no.’
Freddy’s eyes slid appraisingly sideways toward the doorway. Blake said, ‘He doesn’t understand English. Talk in a normal voice, and don’t look at him.’
‘He wouldn’t be much for you to handle, Sam. You could get the gun away from him.’
‘I’m not going to try.’
‘I’ll give you a thousand dollars to jump him.’
Blake went about the business of fashioning an arm-sling, waiting until he was sure he could keep resentment out of his voice before he answered.
‘The answer is no at any price. Even if I got his gun, there are two more aboard. These men are tough, Freddy. They’re taking a big risk for a big reward. The little one -Holtz - wouldn’t hesitate for a minute to shoot anyone who got in his way. And I’m not going to get myself shot to save you the kind of money you could lose at roulette without suffering from it.’
‘It isn’t the hundred thousand! Don’t you see, I can’t pay off without a guarantee! How do I know they’ll turn me loose? If I give in once, what’s to keep them from doing it again, as long as they can get anything out of me - and slit my throat when they’re finished? I’ve got to have some protection!’
‘Cut the patati-patata and get on with it,’ Roche said roughly. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
Blake said, ‘Holtz can’t hold you indefinitely. He can’t send a messenger to the United States the way he does to Geneva, and he certainly hasn’t had a chance to investigate your New York banker the way he’s investigated Krug. How much more is there that he can squeeze out of you? What will be left in your Swiss account if you write the check?’
‘A few thousand.’
‘Have you any other European accounts? Anything else he can get at?’
‘No.’
‘Then the hundred thousand is all he can hope for, and he probably knows it. You’d be a fool to hold out.’
‘It’s easy enough for you to say.’ Freddy was sullen. ‘It isn’t your money. Or your throat that will be cut.’
‘It isn’t my finger that’s broken, either. Use your head. If you don’t sign that check, he won’t cut your throat. He’ll mash another finger, or crack a collarbone.’
Freddy’s already grey face lost another shade of color. He said violently, ‘Damn that girl! It’s all her fault!’
‘It’s not all her fault. She was tricked, as I was. She’s already come within an inch of getting herself shot, and taken a crack in the face with a pistol butt, trying to bail us out of this. All it takes from you is a signature on a check. I’m not on your side until you pay off.’
‘That’s all,’ Roche said with finality. ‘Get out of there!’ He gestured with the pistol, stepping warily aside to let them come into the passageway.
Except for Holtz, the salon was empty when they returned to it. The gang leader still waited where he had been when they left, by the desk on which the pale-blue check and the photostat lay. Freddy went immediately to the sliding panel that hid the bar.
It did not move when he pulled at it. Holtz said smoothly, ‘It’s locked, Mr Farr.’
‘I’ve got to have a drink.’
‘Jules has taken the keys. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until he returns.’
‘I can’t do anything without a drink.’ Freddy held up his uninjured hand to show that he spoke the truth. ‘I can’t even hold my fingers steady.’
‘You have written checks before in the same condition, as we both know. It will lend authenticity to your signature.’ The gun in Holtz’s hand rose to impose its command. ‘We will take up where we were interrupted, Mr Farr. You may have a drink afterwards.’
Freddy was sweating heavily when he took his seat at the desk. He picked up the pen, put it down, wiped his hand on his dressing-gown, and picked up the pen again.
‘What happens if the ink blots, or the pen slips?’ he asked unhappily.
‘I have more check blanks. But I would advise you not to let the ink blot or the pen slip.’
Freddy wet his lips.
It was visibly painful for him to take the injured hand out of its sling, more so to hold the blank check steady with it while he wrote. The splinted finger was an awkward encumbrance, but the pen moved surely enough until he came to the line for signature. There he hesitated for seconds, put down the pen to wipe sweat from his hand, looked at the photostat before him, and signed with extreme care.
Holtz was equally careful in comparing the signature with the photostat. Satisfied, he gave the check to Roche.
‘Take the captain with you and put the launch over the side,’ he said. ‘Jules will be along in a minute.’
‘My drink,’ Freddy reminded him.
‘It will have to wait on Jules.’ Holtz’s pistol-barrel indicated the companionway leading to the cabin below. ‘Go below.’
‘You promised me!’ Freddy protested piteously.
Holtz sneered at him.
‘Alcohol is a hard master, Mr Farr, You should be grateful that I am helping you resist it. Go below!'
Freddy stumbled miserably toward the companionway. Holtz followed him.
Jules came on deck while Blake, under Roche’s still watchful eye, was casting off the lashings of the cruiser’s power boat. Roche was too much afraid of lowering his guard to be of any help, but Jules was quick, efficient and either unaware or unconcerned that his help brought the gun in his belt within Blake’s reach more than once. Blake thought, Do they know I won’t take the odds? and was unaccountably angry to think that they might have judged him so well. Afterwards he kept his mind stubbornly on the job at hand until the launch was in the water.
It did not dawn on him until Jules and Roche were in the launch and casting off the falls that he was being left alone above deck with Holtz. He had no chance for an appraisal of the opportunities the circumstances might offer before the gang leader spoke to him from the safe vantage point of the bridge wing, ten yards off and above where he stood by the dangling davit falls.
‘Stay where you are until the launch returns, Captain.’ The barrel of the Walther glinted from its rest on the bridge railing. ‘I needn’t tell you that at this distance you would have as little chance in the water as you have on deck.’
‘No,’ Blake said. ‘You needn’t.’
Again he had the feeling that it had all been rehearsed. Under Holtz’s watchful eye, he was as effectively neutralized as his passengers, locked in their cabins below.
It might be that he was even more helpless. He had become aware of a muffled pounding underneath the deck where he stood. It was more of a vibration than a sound, and it did not override the putter of the idling diesels, but it
was not a normal ship’s noise. His mental picture of the cruiser’s layout helped him localize and identify it for what it was. Somebody was kicking steadily at a steel door.
The after-starboard guest cabin was directly beneath him. He made the movement to lean his elbows on the rail casual but deliberate, conscious of Holtz’s alert watch. In that position the pounding came to him more clearly, and he could catch brief snatches of conversation through an open porthole.
Laura di Lucca’s voice said faintly, pleadingly, ‘ … couldn’t stand it if he hurt you the way he hurt Freddy! Please, caro!’
‘… porthole!’ Bruno’s deeper voice growled. ‘Two of them gone … got the chance!’
‘He’ll kill you! Oh, please, please, caro! … my sake!’
‘… not afraid of the …’
‘No, caro! No! Please! …’
‘… leave me alone! Stand out of the …’
The wake of the launch was a broad arrow pointing at the rocks at the tip of the little cape protecting Monte Carlo beach. There were neither swimmers nor beach umbrellas where the launch was going, only tumbled stony dangers to rip the hull of small craft in the hands of inexperienced sailors. But a good boatman could land a passenger dry-shod on the rocks with the swell of one wave, ride seaward out of danger on the next, and Jules put Roche ashore in that way while Blake watched. As the tiny figure scrambled up the rocks and the launch backed away toward safety, he said loudly, ‘Holtz!’
The pounding below decks stopped immediately. Holtz said, ‘What is it?’
‘Why didn’t you shoot me when I tried to ram the break-water?’ Blake kept his voice loud.
‘It wasn’t necessary. You were behaving according to pattern. I expected you to make an attempt to oppose me before you saw how useless opposition was, and I was fully prepared to handle you as I did.’ The gang leader laughed, a short bark like that of a fox. ‘Besides, you are still useful.’