1955 - You've Got It Coming

by James Hadley Chase

  He didn't know quite what to do about Borg. He could only hope the fat thug had lost him. If he picked up his trail and came after him, he might have to stop running and fight.

  The thought made Harry grimace. It was all very well to think like that now when Borg was a thousand miles away, but it wouldn't be quite so simple when Borg was within gun shot.

  Harry remembered his fear when he thought Borg was hiding somewhere on the airfield. Borg was a professional killer. Harry didn't fancy his chances against him. But something had to be done about him. He wasn't going to stop Harry's plans. Maybe once he got his hands on some big money he would be able to afford a bodyguard who would take care of Borg. Harry brightened at the thought. That was an idea! Some tough, quick-shooting thug who'd handle Borg.

  Then he saw the Bentley coming and he jumped to his feet.

  So she had come! Did that mean she meant business? He approached the car, giving her his best and widest smile.

  “You look a peach,” he said. “I apologize for being so personal, but I've got to say it. You really look good enough to eat.”

  And she did too.

  She was wearing a blue-and-white terylene frock with short sleeves. Her straw-coloured hair was caught back by a strip of blue ribbon. She looked as immaculate as if she had just stepped out of cellophane wrapping, and her big eyes were as alive and as bright as quicksilver.

  “I'm glad you approve. But where is Mrs. Griffin?”

  Harry opened the car door.

  “May I get in?”

  “Of course.”

  He got in beside her and closed the door.

  “Isn't your wife coming?”

  Harry half turned so he could look directly into her eyes.

  This was something that had to be explained and explained quickly.

  “I hope I'm not going to shock you,” he said, “but she isn't my wife. It was stupid of her to say she was. The truth is I picked her up in Los Angeles. She was in trouble. She had no money and was on the verge of suicide. I was sorry for her. For the moment I'm landed with her, but not for long. I want her to find her feet, get well again and then we're parting.”

  Joan looked at him. Her searching gaze disconcerted him.

  “I see,” she said.

  “I was at a loose end,” he went on, speaking hurriedly. “I wanted a vacation. I thought I'd take her along with me. There's nothing between us. She doesn't mean a thing to me.”

  Joan lifted her eyebrows. A jeering expression came into her eyes.

  “You're like a big, protecting brother to her, is that it?”

  Harry flushed.

  “Well, maybe it's hard to believe, but that's more or less how it is.”

  “More or less. I was under the impression she doted on you.”

  Harry took out his pack of cigarettes and offered it.

  “Well, you're wrong. Of course she's grateful, but I tell you there's nothing more to it than that.”

  “If I had known that I wouldn't have taken you to that motel. They only have one-room cabins and they are strictly for married couples,” Joan said and laughed.

  Harry grinned uneasily.

  “Look, could we skip this? I wanted you to know I'm not married. The rest is my affair, isn't it?”

  “Of course. I think it is very kind of you to let me know you're not married.”

  He looked sharply at her.

  “Do you have to rib me?” he said irritably. “All right, if you want the truth she and I used to live together, but we're washed up and we're parting.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I always prefer the truth.”

  There was a pause while Harry lit their cigarettes, then he said, “How about looking at that land you were talking about last night—where an airfield could be built.”

  “Yes. Let's go and look at it.”

  She started the engine, slipped into gear, reversed the car and began to drive back the way she had come.

  “I liked the way you handled my aircraft,” she said after a long silence. “You're much, much better than my pilot. Your wife—I mean your friend—told me you once were a pilot at the C.A.T.C.”

  Harry went hot with rage.

  Was there no end of the damage Glorie had done? He had planned to conceal the fact from Joan that he had worked for the C.A.T.C., and now the damned pea-brain had given it away.

  “Yeah, that's right,” he said, not looking at her.

  “Mr. Godfrey, the President, is a great friend of Daddy's. You've met him, of course?”

  “Yes, I've met him.”

  If Glorie had been within reach, Harry would have strangled her He was sunk now. If Graynor knew Godfrey he was certain to check on him, and Harry could guess what Godfrey would have to say about him.

  They drove for the next half-mile in silence, then Joan suddenly began to laugh. She had to slow the car and finally stop, and for several seconds she continued to giggle while Harry glared through the windshield, not looking at her. , “I'm sorry,” she said at last, but she didn't sound sorry. “Don t look so livid. I'm not going to tell Daddy you've worked for the C.A.T.C. It'll be all right.” I Harry stiffened. He turned to stare at her.

  “What is all this? What do you mean?”

  She patted his hand. The touch of her fingers made his skin tingle. . .

  “I called Mr. Herbert this morning and had a talk with him about you.”

  “Herbert? The Personnel Manager?”

  “Yes. I wanted to find out if you had a good or bad character.”

  Harry was suddenly aware that his heart was thumping.

  “Why?”

  “Isn't it usual to find out about one's future partner? Joan said, smiling at him.

  I believe she really means to go ahead with it, Harry thought.

  But what had Herbert told her? He and Herbert had been good friends. He wouldn't have given him too black a character, but he would have hinted that he wasn't entirely a white-headed boy.

  “Were you serious last night when you said you were interested in this idea of mine?” he said quietly. “You must see how important it would be to me if you were serious. It's nothing I can laugh about.”

  She was instantly contrite.

  “I'm sorry. I have a horrid sense of humour. Of course I was serious. I thought about it half the night. I've been looking for something to do for months. I'm bored to death being idle. I think your air-taxi idea is just what I would like to work at.”

  “Maybe your father . . .”

  “He's keen I should do something. He thinks everyone should have a job. I know he'll back me.”

  “What did Herbert say about me?”

  She smiled.

  “He said exactly what I thought he would say. He said you were the best pilot they have ever had, that you knew your job inside out, you had a flair for organization and you got on well with your men and people liked you. He thought you would make a success of anything that really interested you.”

  Harry drew in a long, slow breath.

  “That was pretty decent of him. What else did he say?”

  She laughed.

  “You have a guilty conscience, haven't you? And so you should. He told me you were inclined to be reckless, you often drank too much and you had a fatal weakness for women. He said you were sacked because you were tight when in charge of an aircraft and for assaulting an air hostess.” She tried to suppress a giggle, but failed. “What did you do to the air hostess?”

  “The usual things,” Harry said, grinning. “If Godfrey hadn't been on the kite and caught us at it, there would have been no blow back. She claimed assault to save her own skin.”

  Joan nodded.

  “That's what Herbert said. Have you a weakness for women?”

  “Some women,” Harry said, looking straight at her. “Young straw blondes always make a big impression on me.”

  She studied him.

  “Even if they haven't a rich father?”

  Harry's face tigh
tened.

  “That's a rotten thing to say, isn't it?”

  “Perhaps, but it's a sensible question to ask.”

  “It would depend on the blonde,” Harry returned. He glanced up and down the long, deserted road, then leaned closer. “If she had grey eyes like yours and a mouth as lovely as yours money wouldn't matter.”

  She didn't draw back. Their faces were only inches apart.

  “I wonder if I can believe you,” she said.

  He reached for her and his mouth covered hers.

  For a long moment they remained like that. He could feel her breath against the back of his throat and her tongue against his teeth. The fire that was in that kiss sent his heart hammering. Then she pulled away, her hands moving to his chest to push him back.

  “The moment I saw you,” she said unsteadily, “I knew this had to happen.” She was trembling and there was a lost look in her eyes. “I do hope we're not going to land ourselves in a mess. Why do you have to be so attractive? I've only known you three hours and look at me.”

  Harry put his hand on hers.

  “That's the way it is,” he said. “It happens like that when it's the real thing. I'm crazy about you, Joan. We could have fun together.”

  She smiled at him. . . .

  “Do you want me to help you in this air-taxi business or would you rather work it out on your own?”

  Harry hesitated. .

  “I'd like to give it a trial first, Joan, before we sink a lot at money in it. I've got about fifty thousand dollars. If I could buy two kites and get this land you're talking about and give it a try out, then if it clicks we could dig up capital and go to town.”

  “Yes that's right,” she said. “But fifty thousand isn't enough, Harry I've got money of my own. I'll put fifty thousand into the kitty as well. Then if it comes off, we'll ask Daddy to help us form a company. We should know how we go in six months, shouldn't we?”

  “Yes.” He put his arm round her. “Would you marry me, Joan, in six months' time?”

  “I'd marry you today,” she said. “Why wait six months?”

  “No.” Harry was tempted, but he saw the danger. “We've got to think of your father. I've got to prove to him I can handle the business. If we marry now he'll think I'm after his money.”

  “All right” She patted his hand. “What about Glorie, Harry.''

  “Forget her, will you? I'll take care of her. She'll be all right. I told you, we mean nothing to each other now.”

  “You really mean that, Harry? I'm sure she loves you.”

  “She doesn't anymore. We've just got bored with each other. We were only talking last night that we'd better split up. She s got a brother in Mexico she wants to visit,” Harry lied. “I'll give her some money and that will be that.”

  She leaned forward to kiss him, her arms going around his neck, her mouth opening against his.

  He held her to him, her heart pounding again.

  After a while, she said, “Let's go and look at the future airfield, shall we?”

  “We have all day to look at that,” he said, his voice unsteady. 'See those palms over there? Let's go there and get to know each other better.”

  She opened the car door and slid out on to the road. He joined her and they walked across the sand to the clump of palm trees that were only a few yards from the sea.

  Later, when Harry lay beside her, staring up at the blue sky, he realized that for the first time in his life he was in love.

  chapter six

  I

  It was dusk by the time Harry returned to the motel. At his request Joan had dropped him off at the top of the beach road.

  “Are you sure it will be all right?” she asked him as he got out of the Bentley. “I have a guilty conscience about Glorie. I don't think you should have left her alone like this all day. You should have got back before now, Harry.”

  “That's good coming from you,” Harry said, smiling. “I haven't had a chance to get away from you. Now look, don't worry about Glorie. I told her I'd be late. Forget her. When I've told her about us, she'll understand. She'll be gone by tomorrow. You don't know her the way I do. I'll give her some money and she'll go to her brother's place. Just get her out of your mind.”

  Joan didn't seem convinced.

  “Don't you think I should come with you? I have an idea she is going to be difficult.”

  “Glorie?” Harry forced a laugh. “Of course she isn't. She knows how it is with me and her. She isn't kidding herself. I'll handle her. I'll meet you right here tomorrow morning at eleven. We'll go and talk to the agent about the land. Okay?”

  “I’ll be here at eleven. You're sure it's going to be all right?”

  “Of course I'm sure.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, Joan. This has been a wonderful day. You're the first woman who has ever meant anything to me.”

  She touched his face.

  “You're the first man who's ever meant anything to me,” she said. “We're going to have fun, Harry.”

  He stepped back and watched her reverse the big car, then, as she drove away, he waved.

  He stood in the middle of the road watching the car until it was out of sight, then he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one.

  He had had a wonderful day. He couldn't remember ever having had a better one. They had gone to look at the future airport and he had seen at once her choice was right. The ground could be inexpensively converted into an airfield, and it was only four miles from the centre of the town. She told him he could get it cheap. It had been earmarked as a building site, but the company that was going to develop the land had gone smash and no one else seemed to want it.

  They had had lunch together at a smart restaurant on Bay Shore Drive. During the meal they had gone into facts and figures. He had been impressed by her level business head. She had plans for an advertising scheme. She knew where he could buy two good-looking secondhand cars cheaply. He would have to have these cars, she pointed out, to pick up clients from their hotels and drive them to the airport. She said her father was the president of an aircraft factory that would supply Harry with the kind of aircraft he would need at a reduced price. She knew a company in which her father had a controlling interest who would lay the runways.

  “Your job will be to organize the flights, look after the staff and the aircraft,” she had said. “The rest you can leave to me. I'll get the passengers. I know everyone here, and I know the managers of all the hotels. We'll get a monopoly on this business in time, Harry, and that's the only way to handle it.”

  They had talked and talked. When they had left the restaurant, they had sat in the car and talked. It wasn't until the sun was sinking below the horizon that Joan had remembered her father was entertaining that evening and she was expected to act as hostess.

  When she had driven away and Harry had started to walk down the beach towards the motel he began to have doubts. He had been glib enough when talking to Joan about Glorie, but he realized he had now to handle her, and not talk about handling her, and she might not be all that easy.

  She must understand, he kept telling himself. This was his chance. There was no place for her. She must see that. He would have to be careful not to let her suspect that Joan and he were lovers. There was no need to rub her nose in it, he thought, slowing his pace. He would explain that this was a business deal.

  There was nothing in it for her. It would be safer for her to clear out because of Borg. He must stress Borg. She was sensible. She would understand it would be safer not only for herself but also for him if they parted.

  As he walked up the drive that led to the cabins, he saw with relief that his cabin was in darkness. She must have gone out somewhere, he thought. Well, it would give him more time to get the whole thing clear in his mind. He wasn't too sure how he was going to tackle her.

  He reached the cabin, turned the door handle and opened the door. He stepped into semi-darkness, shut the door and groped for the light switch.

/>   “Please don't turn the light on,” Glorie said from out of the darkness.

  He saw her then, sitting in the armchair facing the window.

  He could just make out the shape of her head against the white The tone of her voice gave him a creepy feeling. It didn't sound like Glorie's voice. It might have been a stranger speaking “What do you think you're doing—sitting in the dark? he said. He turned down the switch and kicked the door shut. If she was going to make a scene, he'd meet her halfway, he told himself. The one who got in the first punch won the battle.

  The lamp above the mantelpiece sprang alight. Harry looked at her. In spite of his rising anger, the sight of her shocked him. She was as white as a fresh fair of snow. Her eyes had sunk into her head so that, against the light, he couldn’t see them. Her skin seemed to have shrunk, giving her a scraped, bony look.

  He was about to ask her what was the matter, but checked himself, It would be fatal to give her the opportunity to start a row, he told himself.

  “I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner,” he said, “but I got held up.” He lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the fireplace. “I've had a lot to do.”

  She didn't say anything.

  He suddenly wished the room wasn't so small, and that he wasn't so on top of her. He had to edge around her to get to the other armchair. He sat down and yawned elaborately. He realized this wasn't the moment to break the news to her that they were going to part. He had never seen her looking like this before It worried him. He swore in his mind. The best thing to do now was to be nice to her, to soften her up a little. He could break the news to her after dinner.

  “We'd better get something to eat,” he said. What have you been doing with yourself all day? Did you go for a swim?”

  She turned her head and her eyes met his. Again he felt a creepy sensation run through him. She had never looked like this at him before. The love he had always seen in her eyes wasn’t there. It was as if a stranger were looking at him.

  “No, I didn't go for a swim,” she said in a cold, hard voice.

  “You should have. It would have done you good. Let's go and eat. I'm hungry. Aren't you?”