1977 - I Hold the Four Aces

by James Hadley Chase

  “That remains to be seen,” Grenville said. “I am glad to have the information, but I still think we can drop Patterson - not immediately, of course - and make a killing with Helga. This now depends on you, Jack. Surely, with your brains, you can think up some scheme where we can pick up a couple of million off her. I assure you I’ll handle Helga, providing you can think of a bright idea.”

  Archer half-closed his eyes while he thought. Helga had bested him in the last battle and had treated him abominably. It would be nice to get his revenge, but how?

  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.

  “That’s what I am suggesting. We have ten days. We can still get this horrible little man to finance us. We can encourage him to think all is going well, then we drop him. So think about it.”

  “Again I must warn you, Chris, not to take Helga lightly,” Archer said. “She can be very tricky.”

  Grenville gave his musical laugh.

  “If you had seen the way she looked at me this afternoon, you wouldn’t worry. She is ripe for picking.”

  Back in his sleazy hotel bedroom, Archer stretched out on his bed. His active, shrewd mind remained busy for the next two hours, but no plan to get two million dollars from Helga presented itself.

  Frustrated, and now tired, he turned on his small radio for the 23.00 news. The big story was the holding of five hostages at Orly airport with a ransom demand of ten million francs.

  Impatiently, Archer snapped off the radio, then getting off the bed, he began to undress. Then suddenly, half-way out of his shirt, he paused and looked at the radio, standing on the bedside table.

  Was this the germ of an idea? he asked himself.

  He scarcely slept that night.

  * * *

  Relais de Flore is a tiny restaurant in a back street near the Fontainebleau palais. Helga and Grenville were welcomed by the proprietress, Madame Tonnelle, who led them into the small restaurant with only fifteen tables.

  As Helga settled in her chair, Grenville said, “I have already ordered. I want you to experience one of the great dishes of France: chicken Oliver. It is quite remarkable, and Madame Tonnelle has learned to cook it. I suggest we have a fond d'artichaut in vinaigrette while we wait.”

  Helga, looking splendid in an apricot-coloured trouser suit, smiled at him.

  “You seem to know so much about Paris, Chris. This place is just what I like. I get so bored with the deluxe restaurants.”

  She was thinking: I’ve never met such an intriguing man! He must be marvellous in bed! He could be marvellous as a husband!

  “I get around,” Grenville said, shrugging. “I would love to take you to restaurants in Vienna, in Prague, in Moscow. Now let me tell you about the chicken Oliver. First, Oliver is one of the great creators of dishes in France. The preparation of the chicken is too complicated to go into now. The ingredients are many: six yolks of egg, thick cream, butter, cognac, tarragon, shallots, celery hearts and so on. The exciting thing is that finally a lobster sauce is poured over the chicken.”

  “It sounds out of this world,” Helga said, impressed.

  “It is exceptional.” Grenville smiled at her. “For an exceptionally beautiful woman.”

  Again Helga warmed to him.

  While they were eating the fond d’artichaut, she said, “Chris, tell me what do you do for a living?”

  Grenville had had a call from Archer that morning who had asked him to meet him at a bistro off Rue de Sevres.

  Archer had said, “I have a germ of an idea, but I need to work on it. Now, here is what you do,” and he went on to explain in detail how Grenville should handle Helga. Grenville, listening intently, kept nodding.

  “Take her out tonight and leave her at the hotel. Don’t go to bed with her,” Archer said. “I know Helga: the longer she is kept waiting, the easier she is to handle. Then tomorrow, leave the hotel for two days. Send her a nice message saying you are called away on business. Let her stew, and she will. Then after two days, return to the hotel and put her to bed. By then, I think, you should have no trouble with her.”

  Grenville accepted this advice.

  In answer to Helga’s question, he shrugged. “I have a private income from the Grenville trust that takes care of my day-to-day expenses. At the moment, I am working for a rich American who is promoting a property scheme. I have to meet dreary business men and try to interest them to put up the necessary money.” He smiled. “It passes the time, and who knows? I could find someone, and then I will get an acceptable rake-off.”

  “What is the scheme?” Helga asked.

  “Nothing that could possibly interest you,” Grenville said, acting on Archer’s coaching. “Anyway, who wants to talk business when I have a lovely woman as a companion?”

  At this moment Madame Tonnelle arrived with the chicken. It was the most delicious meal Helga could remember eating.

  While they ate, Helga let Grenville talk, but she only half-listened. She was thinking about what he had said. A property scheme? She had so much money! Perhaps she could get involved in this scheme and then get a hold on this intriguing man.

  It wasn’t until they were in the Maserati, driving back to Paris, that she said, “This property scheme, Chris. Is it something I could be interested in?”

  Grenville smiled to himself. How well Archer knew this woman!

  “Decidedly not. You have all your time taken up with the Rolfe Electronics. No definitely not for you.”

  “But how do you know?” Helga said sharply. “It could interest me!”

  “I couldn’t discuss it with you without my boss” say-so. Sorry, Helga, but that’s how it is, and I do assure you, you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “Very well,” Helga said, frowning.

  Grenville then began to tell her the history of the Fontainebleau forest, but she paid little attention.

  She was curious about this property scheme and felt frustrated, as Archer had assured Grenville she would be. If this scheme was interesting, she thought, it could give her a new outlet for her money, and it could also, much, much more important, give her Chris.

  They arrived back at the Plaza Athenee Hotel.

  “Unhappily, I now have a business date with my boss,” Grenville said as they entered the lobby. “It has been a wonderful evening, and thank you for your company.”

  Watched by Patterson, who was sitting in one of the alcoves, Helga looked at Grenville.

  “And thank you,” she said. “It really has been fabulous. That chicken!”

  Grenville escorted her to the elevator, kissed her hand, looked at her for a long moment, and then left her.

  In her suite, and although it was only 23.00, Helga undressed and dropped into bed.

  She felt relaxed and happy.

  She was in love with this man. That look he had given her as they had parted at the elevator told her he too was in love with her. No man, she told herself, could look like that without being in love, but then she didn’t know just how professional Grenville was.

  Lying in bed, she had a moment of panic, realizing that Grenville had said nothing about meeting her the following day. The thought of being in Paris without him depressed her. Paris would be nothing without him! Relax, she told herself. He is in love with me. Tomorrow, he will telephone, and we will go somewhere marvellous together, but she couldn’t drift off into sleep, and finally, she once again took two sleeping pills.

  She slept late. Awakening after ten o’clock, she ordered coffee, then took a bath. As she was dressing, the telephone bell rang. Eagerly, she snatched up the receiver.

  “The desk, madame,” an obsequious voice said. “There is a message for you. Shall I send it up?”

  Disappointed that it wasn’t Grenville, Helga snapped, “Yes,” and hung up.

  A few minutes later a page arrived with a bunch of roses and an envelope.

  The message sent her into the depths of despair.

  I am called away on dreary business. I loved our evening t
ogether. May I hope, in two days’ time, we can meet again? Chris.

  Two days!

  But there was hope! He wanted to see her again! She must wait!

  Going to the window, she looked down at the traffic moving in the bright sunshine. There would be no spring for her for the next two days.

  And the next two days were purgatory for her as Archer had intended them to be. Loman suggested she should go with him and Winborn to Versailles where there was a possible site for the new factory.

  She went with them because she had nothing better to do. They spent the day discussing the site with a minor minister. Helga couldn’t work up any enthusiasm. Her mind was continually on Grenville. The minor minister invited them to dinner to finalize the plan, and again, because she couldn’t bear the thought of being on her own, Helga joined them in the Plaza Athenee grillroom.

  The following day, she, Loman and Winborn had lunch with the French Prime Minister. Again, she was utterly bored, wondering what Grenville was doing, and if he was thinking of her as she was continually thinking of him. She had a lonely dinner in her suite and two sleeping pills, with the thought that tomorrow, she would see him again.

  Grenville had driven out of Paris and had had two enjoyable days at the Host du Chateau, Fere-en-Tardenois, where he ate well and toured the Marne 1914-18 battlefields. He liked being on his own, spending Patterson’s money and he didn’t give Helga even a thought.

  He arrived back at the Plaza Athenee Hotel around 11.00, two days after his departure. He called Archer from his suite.

  “Go in and win,” Archer said. “I’ve talked to Patterson. He is getting restive,” and he went on to tell Grenville exactly how he should handle Helga.

  Grenville said he would follow Archer’s suggestions, then added, “The trouble now, Jack, is I’m running out of money.”

  “That is something you must talk to Patterson about,” Archer said. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  So Grenville went to Patterson’s room. He found him and Shappilo studying a large-scale map of Corsica.

  “What’s going on?” Patterson demanded aggressively. “Where the hell have you been these past two days?”

  Grenville took a chair and smiled at Patterson.

  “I have been keeping a pair of pants hot,” he said. “Jack and I discussed the situation. He agreed I should go off for two days and let the lady simmer. It’ll pay off tonight.”

  Shappilo said, “That’s good thinking, Mr. Patterson.”

  Patterson grunted.

  “So what’s going to happen tonight?”

  “I will explain the Blue Sky thing to her and then put her to bed.”

  Patterson thought, then nodded.

  “Sounds okay, and then what?”

  Grenville lifted his hands.

  “That depends. I think she will go along with the idea, but one never knows. It is the beginning of the operation. She might bite at once. If not, then I will continue to work on her, but I assure you, Mr. Patterson, in at least ten days, you will get the money.”

  “Well, okay.” Patterson pulled at his cigar and released a cloud of smoke. “It’s your baby, you handle it.”

  “Which I will do, but it is now a matter of more money, Mr. Patterson,” Grenville said smoothly. “Your five thousand francs has run away. If you want me to continue this operation, I need another five thousand francs.”

  Patterson glared at him.

  “You don’t get another dime out of me, Grenville! You finance yourself! When this deal jells, you’ll get a cut, but from now on, you finance yourself!”

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Patterson,” Grenville said, “I have no finances. I thought that was understood. You either give me five thousand francs or the operation is off, it is as simple as that.”

  Patterson’s face turned purple.

  “What have you done with the money I have given you?” he barked. “I want an accounting!”

  “That I can give you,” Grenville got to his feet. “Frankly, Mr. Patterson, when two million dollars are involved, I find your attitude extraordinary. Well, shall we forget the whole thing? I have other irons in the fire, and this haggling over money bores me.”

  Patterson hesitated, looked at Shappilo who nodded, then he took out his wallet. He counted out three one thousand franc notes and put them on the table.

  “That’s all you’re going to get!”

  Grenville shook his head, his expression sad.

  “Such a pity. All right, Mr. Patterson, then let us forget it all. You could, of course, find someone else. I said five thousand francs, and I mean five thousand francs.” He turned and smiled at Shappilo. “I shall be leaving this afternoon. I have an interesting proposition in Madrid: a very wealthy widow who wants to buy a castle.” He shrugged. “Poor Helga Rolfe! But for a tiny sum of two thousand francs, she is going to lose a lover, but I always say one woman’s loss is another woman’s gain.” As he moved to the door, he waved to Patterson. “Bye, Mr. Patterson.”

  “Hey, wait!”

  Grenville paused and lifted his eyebrows.

  “Here’s your goddamn five thousand! But you deliver!”

  As Patterson added two more one thousand francs to the money on the table, Grenville walked back, picked up the money and stared at Patterson.

  “I think I mentioned this before, Mr. Patterson: never threaten me. It is my habit to deliver,” and using this as his exit line, he left the suite.

  chapter three

  A little after 09.00, a waiter brought Helga her breakfast, and on the tray was a sealed envelope.

  Scarcely waiting for the waiter to leave, she tore open the envelope to find the following message: Unless I hear from you, may I knock on your door at 20.30? I have missed your beauty and your company. Chris.

  Helga was ecstatic. As she drank her coffee, her mind became busy.

  Tonight! she thought.

  This time she would take control. No more driving to some little bistro. They would eat here in her suite and then…

  She had the whole day to make preparations. A splendid dinner served in her suite, no waiters, to hell with gossip, then Chris in her bed!

  The telephone bell rang. It was Winborn, saying he and Loman were going to Versailles again. When would she be ready to go with them?

  Who cared about a site in Versailles? This was Paris in the spring!

  “I have a headache. You and Fred handle it,” she said curtly and hung up.

  She called the Plaza Athenee hairdresser and told him to come at 15.00.

  “I want your beautician too,” she said.

  “Certainly, Madame Rolfe.”

  She took a bath, and as she lay in the scented water, she kept thinking of Grenville. Tonight! She closed her eyes, imagining him taking her gently, his lips against hers and she released a little moan of ecstasy.

  Later, dressed in a pale-blue trouser suit, she telephoned the concierge and asked for the maître d’hôtel to come up.

  When he arrived, she said, “I want dinner here for two. This must be something special. What do you suggest?”

  “It depends on your taste, madame,” the maître d’hôtel returned. “Would you give me an indication: fish, meat, poultry?”

  “I want something special,” Helga repeated impatiently. “I don’t want waiters here. I want a serve-it-yourself dinner, but it must be impeccable.”

  “Certainly, madame. Then I suggest lobster mousse and noisette de veau au morilles, cheese naturally, and perhaps a champagne sorbet. The noisette de veau is one of our specialities and can be left on a hot plate. There will be no need for a waiter, madame.”

  Helga nodded.

  “If that is the best you can suggest.”

  “I assure you, madame, you will not be disappointed. Champagne, and no other wines.”

  “Then at eight o’clock.”

  “It will be arranged, madame.”

  At a bistro on the Left Bank, Archer and Grenville conferred.

&n
bsp; “This is D-day,” Grenville said. “I take her to bed tonight. I managed to squeeze another five thousand out of that horrible little man. You had better have a cut,” and he offered Archer a thousand franc note.

  Archer, who was getting worried by the way his money was disappearing in expensive Paris, eagerly took the money.

  “I’ve read through all this junk Patterson gave me,” Grenville went on. “Surely no one in their right mind would invest money in such a scheme?”

  “It is possible, but extremely unlikely,” Archer said. “It is a gamble, but I am quite sure Helga won’t be interested. She is far too shrewd to put her money in such a project. Now, here is what you tell her…”

  For the next half hour, Grenville listened, then finally, when Archer had finished his coaching, Grenville nodded.

  “Yes. I go along with all that, but after? When she turns me down? What do we do? Have you thought up an idea, Jack?”

  “I have the germ of an idea, but it is too early yet to discuss it. Get her to bed. This is the important thing. Once in bed, she is yours.” Archer smiled. “And mine.”

  At 20.00, two waiters arrived at Helga’s suite and set up a table, placed a hot plate on a trolley and two ice buckets, containing bottles of champagne. While they worked, Helga, burning with impatience, kept looking at her watch. She had on a Dior fine wool suit in apricot. Her jewellery was simple: gold ear-rings and gold bracelets. She was looking her magnificent best.

  The maître d’hôtel arrived and supervised the final touches to the table.

  “All is now ready, madame,” he said. “Nothing will spoil. I am sure you will be satisfied.”

  Helga nodded.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a hundred-franc note, and he left, bowing.

  She paced around the suite, continually looking at her watch. As the minute hand moved to 20.30, there came a tap on the door. She had to restrain herself from running. She opened the door.