Like a Hole in the Head

by James Hadley Chase

  I looked at him.

  “Just why are you getting involved in this? You’re making yourself an accessory to murder.”

  Raimundo fingered his jaw tenderly.

  “I don’t see it that way. Mr. Savanto did me a lot of good when I was a kid. I owe him plenty.” His black eyes hardened. “This has got to work, soldier.”

  “So he tells me or my wife gets branded.”

  “When it’s done you’ll be a rich man. Savanto keeps his promises. You’ll only have yourself to blame if he puts the iron on her.”

  I felt a cold chill crawl up my spine.

  “He will do it?”

  “He’ll do it.”

  He looked at his watch, then got to his feet and went into the house. He returned, carrying two pairs of 9 x 35 binoculars. He gave me one pair, then sat down, holding the other pair on his knees. “The bay ahead of you is part of Willington’s private beach.” Again he looked at his watch. “Take a look at the bay through the glasses and imagine you are going to shoot.”

  As I picked up the glasses I heard the distant throb of a high- powered engine. I was focusing the glasses as I picked up a sleek motorboat as it came around the arm of the bay. I adjusted centre screw. The glasses were good. I now had the boat in focus. There was a fat negress wearing a white overall at the wheel. I saw the tow rope white against the blue of the sea and I shifted the glasses to the left.

  The girl on the skis was completely naked. Her slim, perfectly-built body was golden brown: her straw-coloured hair streamed out behind her. I moved the centre screw a little and she came sharply into focus. I could see her dark nipples and her taut arm muscles. She looked like a sea nymph as she skimmed over the water to the far end of the bay. There was an excited, laughing expression on her young face. The boat made a sharp turn. She jumped the tow rope with the ease and confidence of an expert, then she lifted a leg and skimmed along on one ski.

  She cavorted for some fifteen minutes: beautiful, exciting, sexy and thoroughly expert. Then the boat took her out of sight behind the row of palm trees that fringed the bay. I heard the motor splutter, then die.

  “That’s her,” Raimundo said, putting down his glasses. “Every day at this time she skis. Diaz is one of the top skiers in South America. It’s a safe bet when he has screwed her enough, they will come out on that bay and show each other how good they are. Can you nail him from here?”

  I thought about this. The target would be moving fast and constantly changing direction. I thought of the 600mm. telescopic sight which would cut down the distance to maybe a hundred feet. It wouldn’t be an impossible shot, but a tricky one. Then I thought what it would mean if I missed. I looked again at the Red Dragon brand on the verandah upright. I remembered the time when I had been high in a tree with a rifle equipped with a 300mm. sight. I had waited three long, hot hours for a sniper to show: a sniper who had done a lot of damage. My arms had become stiff and my eyes, in the glare, unreliable before he raised his head into sight. The range had been close on five hundred yards. I had a split second to kill him, but I had killed him. That was three years ago. My reflexes were that much slower, but I would have Diaz in my sights for half a mile. I would be shooting with a silencer. I would have at least six shots at him without him knowing he was being shot at.

  “It’s a seventy-five-twenty-five chance on,” I said. Will she perform tomorrow?”

  “Every day at this time.”

  “I’ll know for sure when I’ve looked at her through the telescopic sight.” I stood up. “I’m going back to get Timoteo’s rifle.”

  Raimundo squinted up at me.

  “You want me to come with you, soldier?”

  “I won’t run away.”

  He nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  It took me a little over thirty-five minutes to get back to the place I called my home. During the drive I thought of Lucy. I thought of the first night we had spent together. Unlike most girls these days she had been a virgin. I remembered her little gasp of pain as I had entered her and I remembered her gentle hands holding my head. I remembered the next three months when she had always been dithering but encouraging. I remembered her saying: I am a little scared of you. I do see you have to be tough and hard if you are to succeed, but please try not to be tough and hard with me.

  To get her back I had to kill a man. But who was Diaz Savanto? He had shown himself to be an animal. He had raped and branded a girl who was probably as harmless as Lucy.

  As I drove up the sandy road that led to the shooting school, I saw the gates were open. As I neared the bungalow I saw the red and blue Buick convertible that belonged to Detective Tom Lepski of Paradise City’s police headquarters.

  * * *

  I slid out of the car, my heart thumping and I looked around. There was no sign of Lepski. I walked to the bungalow. The front door stood open. I entered the sitting-room. The table was laid for a meal. I went into the kitchen. On the stove was a frying pan with slices of ham, a saucepan of peas and another saucepan of water with a cup of rice near by. I walked into our bedroom. It was as I had left it. I looked into Lucy’s closet. Her clothes were there. Nothing seemed missing.

  I had a feeling of utter loneliness. This was the first time I had come home and not found her waiting for me.

  I left the bungalow and headed for the shooting gallery. I had an idea I would find Lepski there. I was right. As I approached, he appeared in the doorway of the lean-to.

  His cold quizzing eyes met mine.

  “Hi ! I was going to put in an alarm about you.”

  I forced myself to meet the probing stare.

  “Alarm? What do you mean?”

  “I found this place deserted. I thought something was wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. What brings you here, Mr. Lepski?”

  “I was passing. I promised Mrs. Benson a recipe for a chutney my old lady used to make. Where is she?”

  I was sure he had been in the house, had seen the preparations for the meal and had sniffed around as only a trained cop can sniff around.

  “I’ve just seen her off. A friend of hers is ill. We had a panic call.”

  “That’s tough.” He shook his head. “When I got here and looked around it was like another Marie Celeste.”

  “Another… who?”

  He looked a little smug.

  “The ship that was found deserted: meals on the table… no one aboard. I’m a Reader’s Digest subscriber. They tell you stuff like that. When I got here, found the front door open, the table laid for a meal, the meal on the stove, no sign of life… it got me bothered.”

  “Yeah, we had this panic call. We dropped everything and ran.”

  “A friend of your wife’s?”

  “That’s right.”

  He eyed me.

  “Who won?”

  I gaped at him.

  “Come again.”

  “What was the fight about?”

  I had forgotten my bruises and the cut under my eye.

  “Oh, nothing. I got into an argument. I guess I flip my lid from time to time.”

  “Some argument.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from me. “Your telephone isn’t working.” His eyes swivelled back to me.

  “It isn’t?” I began to fumble for a cigarette, then changed my mind. That sort of move tells a cop he’s making you nervous. “One minute it works, the next it doesn’t. You know how it is when you’re as far out as we are.”

  “The line’s been cut.”

  The back of my throat was turning dry.

  “Cut? I don’t understand that.”

  “It’s been cut.”

  “Some kid… Kids around here are hell. I’ll get it fixed. I had no idea.”

  “Do you usually walk out of your home leaving the front door open?”

  I was getting fazed with these questions. I decided it was time to stop him.

  “If it doesn’t worry me, why should it worry you?”

  Leps
ki’s face hardened. He became all cop.

  “Folk who are that careless make a lot of work for the police. I’m asking you : do you usually walk out of your house and leave the door open?”

  “I guess so. We’re miles from anyone. We often sleep with the door open.”

  He regarded me, his eyes bleak.

  “And the kids around here are hell?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “When I got here and found no one,” he went on after a long pause, “I looked around. Did Mrs. Benson take her things with her? I looked in the closets… that’s routine, Mr. Benson. Seemed to me nothing is missing.”

  “I appreciate your interest,” I said, “but you don’t have to worry. This was a panic call. We didn’t have much time. My wife took all she wanted for a few days.”

  He stroked his nose while he continued to look at me.

  “Why isn’t your pupil shooting?”

  The sudden shift of ground had me fazed.

  “Pupil?”

  “The rich guy you are teaching who is taking up all your time.”

  “Oh… him.” My mind worked quickly. “He quit yesterday.”

  “Is that right? What was his trouble? Another sick friend?”

  “No trouble. He just got bored.”

  “Is that Weston & Lees rifle in the gun rack his?”

  “Yes.” I was beginning to sweat and this annoyed me. “I’m sending it back to him.”

  “Why didn’t he take it with him?”

  I had to stop this.

  “Do you care, Mr. Lepski?”

  He grinned.

  “I guess not.” The grin went away. “This six hundred milimetre sight and silencer… Who is the planning to assassinate? The President?”

  I had left the sight and silencer in the box. He must have been hunting around in earnest to have found them.

  Somehow I forced a laugh.

  “He’s gadget-minded. You know these guys with more money than sense. Every gun gadget he sees he has to have.”

  “Yeah.” Lepski nodded. “So now you have free time? No pupil… no wife. I’ve got free time tomorrow. How about me coming out here for a lesson?”

  That was the last thing I wanted.

  “Sorry, but I plan to join my wife. I’m shutting the school for a few days.”

  “I don’t seem to have any luck. Okay, we have a date on the 29th. Right?”

  “That’s it. I haven’t forgotten.”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “That’s a nice gun… the best. I’d like to own a gun like that.”

  “Me too.”

  His expression turned blank as he thought. I watched him, sure when he looked like that he was dangerous.

  “You mean he gave up taking lessons even when he had the telescopic sight?”

  “He got bored.”

  Lepski scratched the side of his face.

  “Isn’t money a wonderful thing? I’d liked to be bored.” He took off his straw hat and fanned himself with it. “It’s goddam hot, isn’t it?” Before I could agree that it was hot, he went on, “So you’re joining your wife. Where is she?” This was shot at me, quick and hard like a boxer’s jab.

  By now, I was very alert.

  “Not all that far. Well, Mr. Lepski, I have things to do. See you on the 29th.”

  “Sure. You have things to do.” He hesitated, then he turned on his cop stare. “Keep your house locked in the future. We’re not looking for unnecessary work.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Well, so long, Mr. Benson. See you later.”

  We shook hands, then he walked off to his car. I stood in the sun, watching until he had driven out of sight. I went back to the bungalow and cleared up. I packed a bag with enough things to last me a week. Then I found a sheet of paper and in block letters I wrote:

  THE SCHOOL OF SHOOTING IS CLOSED UNTIL SEPTEMBER 28th.

  I put my bag in the car, went over to the shooting gallery, locked my guns away and collected the Weston & Lees rifle, the sight and the silencer.

  I drove down to the double gates, closed them and fixed the notice on the wooden upright, then I drove back to the little white house where I had a rendezvous in five days time with Diaz Savanto.

  * * *

  “I want to talk to Savanto,” I said.

  We had just finished a scratch meal. Carlo’s cooking was pretty had and none of us had eaten much. The moon was on the rise and the night was hot. It was very quiet and peaceful with the moon, the sea and the swaying palms, but I wasn’t at peace.

  Raimundo regarded me.

  “Anything you say, soldier. When do you want to see him?”

  “Right now. Where is he?”

  “At the Imperial. Do you want me to come along?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked surprised, but got to his feet and we went down to the Volkswagen.

  For the past four hours I had been wandering around, getting the feel of the place and working on the problems that had to be solved before I could even think of the shot. I was aware that I hadn’t much time. I now had the problems lined up and four real tricky ones couldn’t be solved without Savanto’s help. If he couldn’t handle them, we were in trouble.

  We found him sitting on the balcony of his hotel suite. He waved me to a chair.

  “Sit down, Mr. Benson. You have something on your mind?”

  I sat down while Raimundo propped himself against the balcony rail.

  “Yes, you could say that.” I told him about Lepski’s two visits. He listened, his eyes a little sleepy, his fingers doing a little dance on his knees.

  “This cop is sharp,” I concluded. “Because you tricked me into agreeing to kill Diaz, I have now given him false information he will probably check. Because you lied to me about your son not being allowed to touch a firearm I told him about a rich client who doesn’t exist. Now I have told him about a sick girl friend of my wife who also doesn’t exist. If he checks, I am in trouble.”

  “Why should he check, Mr. Benson?”

  I moved impatiently.

  “Do I have to spell it out? When I kill Diaz Savanto there will he a police inquiry. If I am to shoot him while he is skiing, the police will find out fast enough that he was shot with a high- powered rifle. It won’t take them long to work out from where the gunman was shooting. They will also work out the gunman was using a powerful telescopic sight. Then Lepski will remember the Weston & Lees and the six hundred millimetre sight and the silencer. He will then remember my rich pupil who doesn’t exist and he will remember my wife rushed off to visit a sick friend who doesn’t exist. So he will come to me and ask questions. He…”

  Savanto raised his hand, stopping me.

  “All this you are telling me presents no problem, Mr. Benson, because the situation won’t arise. The police will not investigate.”

  I stared at him.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because they won’t know about the shooting. You haven’t understood the situation. I have given it considerable thought. When I learned that Diaz was planning an adulterous three days with the wife of Edward Willington I saw this was the perfect opportunity. The last thing Nancy Willington will want is for the police, followed by the press, to ask her what Diaz Savanto was doing on her husband’s private estate. Let us consider the situation from her point of view. The two of them are skiing. Mysteriously, because you will be shooting with a silencer, Diaz drops. The boat stops. She finds he has been shot in the head. What does she do? Rush back and call the police? No. She will rely on the negress driving the boat to get the body out of the water. The negress will handle the situation. I assure you, Mr. Benson, we can rely on her. She is being extremely well paid. The body will be taken away by Diaz’s men. The girl has plenty of money and she will be persuaded to pay them well. She would pay anything to avoid such publicity.” Savanto lifted his heavy shoulders. “I assure you the police won’t hear about this.”

  “The girl might p
anic and call the police.”

  “She won’t be allowed to. The negress will handle her.”

  I thought of this girl. I could see her, naked, young and excitedly happy on her skis. By squeezing the trigger of the Weston & Lees I would give her a future life of nightmares.

  “What have you to tell me about the shooting, Mr. Benson? It is the shooting I am interested in.”

  “If it wasn’t for this witness of yours, there would scarcely be a problem,” I said. “I’ll be able to tell you tomorrow for certain if I can nail him while he is skiing. I want first to get a view of the girl through the telescopic sight. I am pretty sure it is an acceptable shot, but I want to be certain. If it is, then Timoteo is to do his act on the flat roof of the house. You and your witness will escort him up there. Then you two leave and you will wait on the verandah with binoculars. I want him up there at

  14.30. With luck, Diaz and the girl will show around 15.00. There is a big tree at the hack of the house offering plenty of cover. I’ll be up there. When you and your witness leave the roof I’ll join Timoteo. I’ll do the shooting and get back into the tree. Timoteo joins you. It is up to him to convince your witness what a good shot he has been. What do you think?”

  Savanto considered this for some moments, then he nodded.

  “Yes… it is a good plan.” He looked sharply at me, his black eyes glittering. “You will kill him?”

  “I think so, but I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “You had better be sure, Mr. Benson.”

  The threat was there.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  I left him.

  Raimundo followed me to the car. We drove hack in silence. The whole thing was comnletely unreal to me. but what was real was the Red Dragon brand on the verandah’s upright.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I spent the following morning constructing a thatched roof made of palm leaves over part of the flat roof of the house. I had made so many of these anti-sun shelters in Vietnam that it came as second nature to me. Raimundo offered to help. I let him collect the palm leaves, but when it came to the thatching, I did it myself.

  If Timoteo and I had to be up on the roof for some hours at least we would have shelter from the afternoon sun.