“Do you think if I opened the garage door, he’d drive in?”
She looked at him, puzzled.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, ma’am, it would be best if we did the talking in the games room downstairs.” He looked around the elegantly furnished room. “This is a nice room. It would be a shame to mess it up.”
Again she felt as if an icy draught had blown around her.
“You’re not going to… hurt him?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I hope not.” He smiled. “But some of these elderly finks think they are younger than they are. I might have to smack him a couple of times. I don’t reckon I’ll have to, but if I did and he fell over, the best place for him to fall over would be in the games room, wouldn’t it?”
Suddenly, she felt slightly sick.
“He’s no fool, Larry. I couldn’t persuade him to go down to the games room. He would immediately suspect something.”
Larry chewed and thought about this.
“Yeah… well, that’s okay. I won’t smack him so hard then. If I have to soften him, I’ll take him down to the games room. So maybe we’d better not waste any more time, ma’am. Will you get him up here?”
She hesitated for a few moments. Should she do this? Was she bringing further disaster on herself? Then she remembered Archer’s merciless eyes as he had said:
She went to the telephone and dialled the number of the Eden hotel.
“Is Mr. Archer in the hotel, please?”
“A moment, madame.”
She waited several moments.
“Hello, yes? Who’s that?” Archer’s voice boomed over the line. She could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was on his third cocktail.
“Jack! I have to see you! Something’s happened!” She put urgency in her voice.
“Is that you, Helga?”
“Yes… of course! Will you come to the villa at once?”
“What do you mean? I’m about to have lunch.” All the charm had gone from his voice now. “We have an appointment at three and I’m expecting you here.”
“I’m catching a train to Milan in two hours, Jack. I’m flying back to New York tonight.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She caught an uncertain note in his voice.
“Don’t ask questions, Jack. We’re on an open line. Hinkle has just telephoned. There is an emergency. It’s bad. I’m flying back tonight.”
“Good God! Is it…?”
“Jack!” Her scream cut him short. “Not on an open line. Hinkle says it is touch and go. Not a word, Jack! This could upset the market… it could plunge… will you come?”
“You damn well bet I’m coming! Be with you in ten minutes,” and the line went dead.
Slowly she replaced the receiver: a surge of triumph running through her. It had been an inspired thought and it had worked. She had conveyed to Archer that Herman was either dying or dead. She had mentioned the Stock Market. That would stop him trying to check if it was a lie or not. She knew even the slightest rumour that Herman was ill would send prices plunging. For Archer, this would be the time to sell before the news hit the headlines, men when the market had absorbed the shock, to buy back. He would also realize as he came storming up the St. Moritz highway that with Herman dead, he would lose his power over Helga. He would be in the mood to try to make a bargain.
She looked at Larry.
“It worked,” she said breathlessly. “He’s coming.”
Alone, Helga stood by the window that overlooked the private road leading to the villa, a cigarette burning in her fingers. Her heart was thumping and she felt cold in spite of the heating. She was committed now: there was no turning back. She hated violence. She could never bear to see violence on the movies or the TV screen and yet she knew there would be violence here this afternoon. She knew once Archer realized he had been tricked he would be like a raging, vicious bull. She had no doubt that Larry, a much younger and fitter man could cope with him, but the thought of what was to come sickened her.
Larry had said he would stay out of sight until Archer was in the living-room.
“Talk to him first, ma’am. Maybe you can persuade him to play ball. I’ll be listening. If you can’t, then I’ll take over.”
She looked at her watch. He would be here any minute now. At this hour, the traffic would be heavy, but once past Cassarate, unless he got stuck behind the local bus, he could speed.
Then she saw the Fiat 125 sweep into sight, driving much too fast. She caught a glimpse of Archer as she stepped away from the window.
“He’s here, Larry.” Her voice was unsteady.
“Okay, ma’am. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Larry said from the kitchen. “I’m right with you.”
She heard a car door slam, then the front door bell rang violently.
“Be careful with him, Larry,” she said.
“That’s okay, ma’am. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Again the front door bell rang.
Bracing herself, she crossed the hall and opened the door. Archer bounded in. His heavy face was pale and his eyes had an unnatural glitter.
“Is he dead?” he demanded.
Helga looked stonily at him, turned and walked to the sitting-room. She heard Archer curse under his breath. In the doorway, she paused.
“Take your coat off, Jack… it’s hot in here. I wouldn’t want you to catch a 111
cold.”
As he tore off his coat and flung it on the hall table, he said again, “Helga! Is he dead?”
She moved into the room until she reached the centre, then turned and faced him as he came in.
“Helga! For Christ’s sake! Is he dead?”
“Is who dead?”
His big hands closed into fists and he glared at her.
“You said there was an emergency… that Hinkle telephoned!”
“Oh, yes. Hinkle did telephone. Herman won’t be coming here until next week. He’s got some conference on or some bore.”
A wary, suspicious look came to Archer’s face.
“Just what is this? You led me to believe Herman was ill or dead.”
“Did I? Perhaps it was because I decided there would be no other way of getting you up here, Jack.”
His face turned mauve as blood rushed to his head.
“Listen, you bitch, don’t start any tricks!” he snarled. “Those photos are now safe in the bank! With a snap of my fingers I can ruin you and you know it! Now give me the stock list! I’ve about had all I’m taking from you! Give me the stock list!”
She moved to a chair and sat down.
“The situation has changed, Jack. You’re not getting the list, but you are writing a letter to your bank, instructing them to send the photos to me.”
He glared at her, his mouth working.
“I’ve a good mind to slap your bloody face!” he said viciously. “Have you gone out of your mind? Or are you telling me you don’t give a damn about losing sixty million dollars?”
“The situation has changed,” she repeated quietly, feeling her anger rising. You held three aces… but now I hold four.”
He suddenly appeared to take hold of himself and his face was no longer mauve. He stared at her, his small, hard eyes probing.
That’s interesting. You were always a good bluffer, Helga, but you don’t bluff me. If I have any more of your
