chapter five
Sitting in the shabby lounge of the Hotel de Suisse, Archer thought back on the previous day. He had been busy and was satisfied. He had rented a Mercedes from the Avis people, then had gone around talking to the various estate agents until he had found a small wooden villa on the outskirts of Paradiso which is a continuation of Lugano. It was a modest place and he had been forced to rent it for a month, but it would act admirably, he told himself, as a hide-out for Grenville.
Tomorrow at 14.00, Segetti and Belmont would arrive. He would drive them to Helga’s villa so that they would know where to find it and then to the rented villa. Tomorrow night the kidnapping would take place.
Archer nodded to himself. As long as Grenville had taken care of Helga, Archer could see no reason why, in a few days, he wouldn’t be worth a million dollars. It was, he thought, a well worked-out plan, but everything depended on how well Grenville had done his homework.
Glancing through the dirty glass doors of the hotel that led into the street, he saw a silver and black Rolls-Royce pull up and Grenville about to get out.
Jumping to his feet, Archer hurried from the hotel, and Grenville, seeing him, opened the off-side door. Archer got into the car and Grenville set it moving.
“What a magnificent car!” Archer exclaimed, and a wave of envy ran through him. He thought if it hadn’t been for Helga, by now he might just possibly have been able to buy such a car.
“I have to talk to you!” The sharp note in Grenville’s voice made Archer look quickly at him.
“Is something wrong?”
“This woman is suffocating me! She’s driving me crazy!” Grenville snapped. He edged the car through the heavy traffic until they came to the lake. He looked for parking space, but, in Lugano, parking space was practically non-existent. Muttering under his breath, he continued on, until he found a space with a no-parking sign. He pulled in and turned off the engine. “She now wants me to work in her firm! Can you imagine? She’s determined to marry me! She says she will loan me five million dollars so I won’t be living on her! Who in his right mind would want to work for her? She would never leave me alone! When I wasn’t screwing her, I’d be at a desk!”
Archer drew in a deep breath. If only such an offer had been made to him, he thought. How he would have jumped at it! A loan of five million dollars, and the opportunity to work with the Herman Rolfe Electronic Corporation! He regarded Grenville and suddenly had complete contempt for him. He was, indeed, a gigolo, afraid to work, afraid of responsibility.
“Yes, I understand your feelings,” he said quietly. “But there is no need to get worked up, Chris. How have you left it?”
“I told her I wanted to think it over,” Grenville said sullenly. “I said I thought best when I was playing golf. It was the only thing I could think of to get away from her. She is caught up with some dreary business about buying a site in Versailles so she let me go.” He banged his clenched fist on the driving wheel. “She would marry me tomorrow if I agree to work for her!”
“But that’s what we want her to think, Chris,” Archer said patiently. “You are taking this far too seriously. There is no chance of you two getting married. You have done very well. Keep it up. When you go back, tell her you will work for her and the sooner you can marry her, the happier you will be.”
Grenville took out his cigarette case and lit a cigarette.
“The thought of being married to her makes my blood run cold. Are you sure it is going to be all right? When can you get me away from her?”
Again Archer regarded him, feeling contempt. What would he give to change places with this handsome, useless dummy?
“Tomorrow night you will be kidnapped and your worries will be over,” he said. “Things are very definitely going our way.”
“I hope they are. You have no idea how possessive and domineering she is! I’ve never met such a woman.”
“Do try and relax,” Archer said soothingly. “Everything is arranged. Tomorrow night at ten o’clock, two men will arrive, wearing hoods and carrying guns. They will threaten you both. You should put up a very minor show of resistance, but don’t overdo it, as these two are amateurs. Go with them. They will leave Helga a note which I have prepared. I will coach them what to say to her. I assure you they will say enough to stop her calling the police. They will drive you to a villa I have rented and I will pay them off and then I will take over. I assure you, in less than a week, you will be worth a million dollars. It is really as simple as that.”
Grenville stubbed out his cigarette in the ash-tray.
“But what about Hinkle?”
“Yes, there’s Hinkle.” Archer frowned. “What time does he go to bed?”
“God knows! Last night Helga sent him to bed after dinner.”
“To be on the safe side, we will make the kidnapping at eleven o’clock. Suggest Hinkle leaves you two alone.”
“He may stay up.”
“Then one of my men must take care of him. And another thing, Chris, you must unlock the front door. I know the villa. There is no way to get in except through the front door. There is a loo in the vestibule. Excuse yourself, once you know Hinkle is out of the way, then unlock the front door, understand?”
Grenville nodded.
There came a tap on the car window and both men looked around. A policeman in a white helmet, brown uniform and jackboots was looking at them.
Exasperated and nervy, Grenville pressed the button to lower the window.
“What is it?” he barked in Italian.
“You are in a no-parking zone, sir,” the policeman said. “I am giving you a ticket.”
“To hell with that!” Grenville snapped. “There are no parking places in this stupid town! You people should get parking properly organized!”
Archer, who had lived in Switzerland for a long time and knew how touchy the Swiss police were, was horrified.
The policeman ”s eyes hardened.
“Your papers, sir.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Grenville opened the glove compartment and gave the policeman the car’s papers.
After taking some time examining the papers, the policeman again regarded Grenville.
“This is not your car?”
“You can read, can’t you?” Grenville snapped. “The car is owned by Madame Herman Rolfe. You may possibly have heard of her. She lent me the car.”
The policeman “s face became stony.
“Your passport, sir.”
As Grenville travelled so much, he always carried his passport with him. He handed it to the policeman.
Then Archer made a stupid mistake. He intervened. Taking out his wallet, he produced one of his old business cards, giving his name and the address of his late firm of international lawyers.
“As you will see, officer,” he said in his smoothest manner, “Mr. Grenville is English and is not used to continental regulations. I assure you, Madame Rolfe has lent him this car. He is staying with her as her guest.”
The policeman studied the card, then handed it back. He returned the car papers and the passport to Grenville.
“Please don’t park in a no-parking zone in the future, sir,” he said, saluted and motioned Grenville to drive on.
As the Rolls drifted away, the policeman, who had an excellent memory, began to write in his notebook. He was puzzled that a man so shabbily dressed as Archer was could claim to be an international lawyer.
“The bastard!” Grenville muttered as he continued on along the lake road.
“For goodness sake, Chris!” Archer said nervously. “You can’t talk that way to a Swiss policeman. That was very stupid of you.”
“To hell with him!”
He pulled into the parking lot of the Eden Hotel.
“Let’s have a drink.”
The two men walked onto the terrace and took an isolated table. They sat down and Grenville ordered two gin martinis.
“Now look, Jack, this has to come right,” he said
. “Tell me about these men who are going to kidnap me. Are you sure they are reliable?”
Archer waited until the drinks arrived, then he began to talk.
* * *
Grenville returned to the villa a little after 15.00, feeling relaxed. Archer had convinced him that in a few days he would own a million dollars with no strings attached. He had played nine holes with the pro and had beaten him so easily that the pro had generously said that Grenville was the best golfer he had ever played with and that pleased Grenville.
He drove the Rolls into the garage and then entered the villa. As he closed the front door, he could hear Helga talking on the telephone, so he went to his bedroom, took a shower, changed, then wandered into the living-room.
Helga was wearing her hard expression, but it softened at the sight of him.
“What a morning!” she said. “These fools! They have been driving me out of my mind!” She pushed aside a mass of papers spread out on the desk and getting to her feet, she ran to him and kissed him. “Dear Chris! Tell me the answer, tell me it is yes!”
“It is yes,” Grenville said and picking her up, he carried her into her bedroom and kicked the door shut. “And we will have an immediate dress rehearsal.”
“You’ll shock Hinkle!” Helga said, but she was already slipping out of her trouser suit.
“To hell with Hinkle! I have myself a wife.”
Ten minutes later, lying side by side, naked on the bed, Helga, ecstatically happy, began to tell Grenville about her wedding plans.
“We will go to Paradise City. I have a wonderful place there on an island. It’s perfect. There is a cottage which you can have while I make the announcement. It must be a big, big wedding, Chris! There are so many important people and their wives, my executives and people we deal with who must be invited.”
Grenville cringed at the thought, but he gently stroked her hand.
“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he said, thinking by tomorrow evening he would be free of her, never see her again, and own a million dollars.
A gentle tap sounded on the door and Hinkle said through the door, “Mr. Winborn is on the telephone, madame.” He spoke in his doleful, disapproving voice.
“Oh, damn the man!” Helga said furiously, but she snatched up the telephone receiver by the bed.
“What is it, Stanley?” She listened, then said, “No! We will not pay a dollar more! This is a try-on! For God’s sake, Stanley, can’t you handle this instead of bothering me. I’m trying to relax.”
Grenville slid off the bed and went into the bathroom. God! he thought, to be married to this commercial machine! She was still talking when, dressed, he wandered out onto the terrace.
“Some tea, sir?” Hinkle asked, appearing.
“A double whisky and soda,” Grenville said and sat down.
Helga didn’t appear for half an hour.
“I want to tell you about this deal, Chris,” she said, sitting by his side. “You will be handling it. It is going to be big and the French government are trying to be greedy. Let me begin from the beginning.”
For the next hour, Grenville nearly went crazy with boredom while Helga talked figures, costs, loans, interest rates and so on. Somehow, he managed to keep an intelligent expression and nod from time to time, but the crunch came when she paused and said, “Now you know the setup, Chris. What is your opinion?”
Grenville flinched. He had no opinion because he had scarcely listened to what she had been saying and even if he had been listening, all this financial talk meant nothing to him.
“Before expressing an opinion, Helga,” he said carefully, “I would like to study the papers and the figures. Would that be possible? I’ve warned you I’m green about finance, but I think I could be a bit intelligent if I had a couple of hours looking at the plans and the figures.”
Helga, looking disappointed, nodded.
“All right, Chris. I’ll get Winborn to fly copies of the contract and figures down here right away. I can see your point.”
She reached for the telephone at her side and called Paris as Hinkle arrived with a shaker of vodka martini and glasses.
Grenville thought: at least, I’ve gained time!
As Hinkle poured the drinks, Helga spoke to Winborn’s secretary and told her to send copies of the Versailles contract and the figures immediately.
“I want it by tomorrow,” she snapped and hung up.
“Will you be dining in, madame?” Hinkle asked.
“Let’s go out, darling,” Grenville said hurriedly. He felt he had to get away from the villa and away from financial talk. “Isn’t there somewhere amusing where we could eat?”
“Of course. That’s a good idea. We will go to Huguenin: it is simple, but good. No, Hinkle, we will go out.”
When Hinkle had left the terrace, Grenville, anxious to get Helga’s mind off business, began asking questions about her Paradise City home. Helga was happy to give him a description of the house and time moved swiftly. A little after 20.00, she went to her bedroom to change and Grenville remained on the terrace. Another twenty-seven hours, he thought.
After a good Italian-style dinner, they wandered, hand in hand, along the lakeside. Helga was now relaxed, her mind at ease. This man was going to be her husband! She kept looking at him, admiring his tall, lean figure and his handsome face. She thought of the excitement of the wedding preparations. What a surprise it would be for Loman and Winborn! She wondered when she should tell them. She decided it would be wise to hold back the news until they had met Grenville and until she had told them that he would be a senior partner. She imagined they wouldn’t be happy about this, but there was nothing they could do about it! She was in complete control of the corporation, holding seventy-five per cent of the shares. The other directors would also raise their eyebrows, but to hell with them! It was a little disappointing that this tall, handsome man hadn’t shown any real interest in the corporation as yet, but she mustn’t rush him. Working with him, she was sure she could ignite his interest.
She realized she was neglecting him so she asked about his game of golf.
Grenville too had been wandering along, thinking of tomorrow night’s kidnapping, still a little uneasy about the results. He began to tell her about his game of golf with the pro, and like most golfers, he gave her a blow-by-blow account of his game, which rapidly bored Helga who thought golf a complete waste of time, but she simulated interest and said, “Bravo!” when Grenville concluded by saying he had thoroughly beaten the pro.
Returning to the villa, they found Hinkle waiting up for them.
“Now, Hinkle,” Helga said firmly, “in the future, after dinner, you must go to your room. I know you like TV. If there is anything I want, I will ring for you, but I do not want you to wait up for us. Is that understood?”
Hinkle inclined his head.
“Very well, madame, if that is your wish.”
“Mr. Grenville will lock up. So after dinner, please relax.”
Listening to this, Grenville drew in a sigh of relief. Maybe Archer was right when he had said everything was going their way.
* * *
Grenville came awake soon after 07.00. Helga, by his side, was sleeping.
This was the day, Grenville thought, but he had to get through twenty-two hours before he was liberated. He was sure those awful papers and accounts would arrive in a few hours. Then Helga would expect him to study them and then express an opinion. This he couldn’t face. His only escape was to feign illness. This was nothing new to him. Time and again, when he could no longer bear the company of his various old women, he had pleaded migraine. It was a certain winner.
He lay still until Helga began to move, then he released a little moan. Over the years he had perfected this sighing moan that was very convincing.
Helga came awake and sat up.
“Chris? What is it?”
“Nothing.” He put his hands over his eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just the usual d
amn thing.”
She leaned over him anxiously.
“Are you in pain?”
“Pain? It’s migraine. Once in a while I get these attacks.” Grenville suppressed a moan. “Look, darling, just leave me be. If I stay still, it’s not all that bad.”
“Migraine! My poor darling!” Helga slid out of bed. “I’ll get you something.”
“No, please don’t. I always ride it out.” He managed to sound brave. “I’m sorry about this, but just leave me. Even talking hurts.”
“Of course, Chris. Would you like some tea? Can’t I do anything for you?”
“No, nothing. It’ll probably go away in an hour or so.”
“I’m so sorry.” Helga hesitated, then as he continued to remain still, his hands covering his eyes, she went into the bathroom, took a hasty shower, then moving silently, she dressed.
Watching her between his fingers, Grenville now and then released his little moan.
“Chris, darling let me call a doctor.”
“No doctor has ever cured migraine,” Grenville said. Then with an obvious effort, he took his hands from his face. “I’ll be all right. Just leave me here, please, and darling, don’t fuss.” Then he closed his eyes.
Worried and upset, Helga went onto the terrace where Hinkle was watering the flowers. Seeing her, he turned off the hose and came over to her.
“You are early, madame. Is something wrong?”
“Mr. Grenville has an attack of migraine,” Helga said. “We mustn’t disturb him.”
Hinkle’s fat face became expressionless.
“Yes, madame. It is a disagreeable ailment. Will you have coffee on the terrace.”
“Yes, please.”
She drank the coffee while she worried about Grenville. As Hinkle came to take the tray away, she said, “You wouldn’t imagine a man such as Mr. Grenville could be a migraine victim, would you, Hinkle?”
Hinkle lifted his eyebrows.
“I believe it is a nervous complaint. No, madame, you wouldn’t have thought so.”
Helga felt an urgent need to confide in him.
“Don’t go away Hinkle. I want to talk to you. Please sit down.”
1977 - I Hold the Four Aces Page 10