Believe This... You’ll Believe Anything

Five

I arrived at the Vidal residence at 08.50. I had had scarcely any sleep and I was feeling tense at the thought of seeing Val again. As soon as I had parked my car, I went to Dyer’s office. As a member of the staff, I didn’t bother to announce myself to the receptioness. I tapped on Dyer’s door and entered.

He was sipping a cup of coffee, a big pile of unopened mail before him.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I heard about last night. Never be surprised at the surprises Tiny will surprise you with. As I told you no hours are sacred to him. Burning to make a start?’

‘Where do I go?’

‘I’ll show you.’ He finished his coffee, got to his feet and moved out of his office. ‘You will be working in the residence. Mrs. V. wouldn’t want to work here. I’ve spent the whole week fixing your office. Consider yourself favoured.’ While he was talking, he led the way along the azalea lined path to the house. ‘Everything fancy, of course. Mrs. V. has luxury tastes.’ We entered the house and he led me through a big hall crammed with armour and old weapons and up a wide staircase, along a passage to a door at the far end. Opening it, he stood aside and waved me in. ‘Make yourself at home. The big desk is yours. The desk with the I.B.M. is for Mrs. V. The schedules are on your desk. Go to it, brave heart. I must return to my slum. See you,’ and he withdrew.

I leaned against the door and looked around the big, sunlit room. It was luxurious all right. The big french windows looked on to the swimming pool. My desk was big enough to play billiards on. There were four telephones, an intercom and nearby a Telex machine. A Grundig recorder stood on a small table by the desk. I went around and sat in the executive chair. Opposite me was a slightly smaller desk, equipped with an I.B.M. Executive, two telephones, a Grundig recorder and an array of pencils and ball points. The room was air conditioned. It was certainly the most luxe office I had yet worked in.

On the snow white blotter were a dozen or so thick envelopes. The time now was 09.00. I wondered when Val would appear. Remembering that Dyer had said I would be busy, I picked up one of the envelopes and opened it.

It contained a brief to transport Mr. and Mrs. William Jackson for a two week stay in Rangoon, hotel to be arranged V.I.P. Two passports were included. Visas would be required.

It suddenly dawned on me what I had taken on. If this travel brief had come to me at the A.T.S. office, I would have sent it to Massingham who had the staff to deal quickly and efficiently with it and obtain the visas. Apart from Val who hadn’t yet appeared, I had no staff. The Burmese Consulate was in Miami: a trip of over an hour there and back. There was always a delay at any Consulate. I couldn’t hope to get the visas back here under four hours: a waste of the whole morning. This just wasn’t realistic.

I looked at the intercom, found Dyer’s name under one of the switches and called him.

‘This is Burden,’ I said. ‘I want a leg-man to go to Miami right away. Will you fix it?’

‘Not my pigeon I am glad to say old boy. Try Lucas. He handles staff problems. So sorry,’ and he snapped up his switch.

I located Bernard Lucas’s number, called him and explained my problem.

‘We have no one to spare.’ His dry voice sounded completely uncooperative. ‘I don’t know anything about this. I was under the impression we deal with the A.T.S. Why not ask them?’

‘We are not dealing with them anymore.’ I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice. ‘I’m handling the travel end now for Mr. Vidal. I want a leg-man.’

‘Then you’ll have to speak to Mr. Vidal. I have no authority to engage additional staff,’ and he hung up.

This was something Val would have to cope with, I told myself. I looked at the brief again and saw the Jacksons were due off early the day after tomorrow. This would be cutting it very fine to get their visas in time. At least I could book the flight, lay on a car and fix their hotel accommodation. This I did, using the telephone and the telex. That was as far as I could go with this brief. I put the papers back into the envelope and opened another. This was for transport for Mr. Jason, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Fremlin and Mr. McFeddy to Tokyo. The usual Vidal V.I.P. treatment. Mr. Jason needed to be reminded to have a smallpox shot and Mr. McFeddy needed a visa. I cursed them both. They were due off in three days’ time. I got on to the Jap airlines and booked their flight, then telexed the Pacific hotel, Tokyo for accommodation.

But why go on? Each envelope I opened contained some headache or another. Dyer had certainly passed me the buck. There was still no sign of Val. I worked fast but without someone to do the typing I was hamstrung.

Where the hell was Val? The feeling that the work was fast getting on top of me made me angry and uneasy. I looked at my watch. The time was 11.10. Pulling a scratch pad towards me, I methodically wrote down the details of all the flights and the necessary hotel bookings in order of priority. I found out of fourteen briefs, five were immediate and the rest could be left until tomorrow.

Hoping that at any moment Val would appear, I concentrated on the five briefs. I didn’t realise it was 13.00 until the intercom buzzed and Dyer’s drawling voice said, ‘I forgot to mention it old boy. There’s a canteen at the back of my office block. The food’s reasonable and cheap.’

‘Could I have a sandwich sent up?’

‘Ah yes, I was forgetting you’re a desk-lunch man.’ The sneer was unmistakable. ‘Dial 23 on the green phone. They’ll send you what you want.’

‘You haven’t seen Mrs. Vidal?’

‘She popped off to Palm Beach. Didn’t she look in?’

I drew in a long, slow breath.

‘No, she didn’t.’

‘She seemed a little moody. Maybe she forgot it’s your first day. Did you get your leg-man?’

‘No.’

‘Too bad. How are you managing? Quite a lot for you to handle on your own I should imagine.’

‘It’s under control,’ I snapped and switched off.

Popped off to Palm Beach.

It was hard to believe. We hadn’t seen each other for over a week. Surely she couldn’t have forgotten? Surely she had been counting the days and the hours as I had been. I pushed back my chair and went over to the window. I had to get those visas for Rangoon before 17.00. I looked at the papers covering my desk. I couldn’t afford the time to go myself. Then I thought of Sue who always rose to an emergency. I hesitated. If Massingham heard about it. Sue could get into trouble. There was no harm in asking, I told myself. Olson would be out at lunch. Sue would be on her own.

I called her.

‘Hello, Clay! I was wondering about you. How are you getting on?’

‘I am in a jam Sue. I’ve got no staff and I want two visas for Rangoon by 17.00. You’ll save my life if you can help me.’

‘Have you the passports?’

‘Yes.’

‘Jake has to go to Miami for visas. I’ll tell him to come to you first. He’ll be with you in half an hour.’

‘You wonderful girl!’

‘Clay... you better give Jake something. If it got out...’

‘I’ll take care of him. You’re a real life saver.’

‘Bye now,’ and she hung up.

I returned to my chair and sat down, looking at the litter of papers before me. I decided I would have to do my own typing. I was gathering the schedules together when the door jerked open and Val came in.

The sight of her set my heart thumping. She looked marvellous and so chic. She carried a large plastic bag which she tossed on her desk. Then she shut the door.

‘Darling Clay! Did you wonder where I had got to?’

I got slowly to my feet.

‘Dyer told me.’ My voice was husky.

‘I just had to go. They’re selling off. I’ve got the most marvellous dress for practically nothing! I must show it to you.’

I reached her, put my arms around her, but she pushed me away.

‘No, Clay. Not here!’ She was speaking in a whisper. ‘It’s too dangerous. Anyone could walk in.’

I controlled myself and moved away from her, a feeling of sick disappointment and resentment sweeping over me.

‘Never mind the dress, Val,’ I said sharply. ‘Have you seen what Dyer has left us to handle?’

She frowned.

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s a hell of a lot of work here and it is urgent. I’ve been waiting for you.’ I picked up the schedules and dropped them on her desk. ‘These need your immediate attention. Would you let me have four carbon copies? While you’re doing that, I’ll fix the flights.’

‘But Clay!’ She was staring at me her beautiful eyes shocked. ‘You sound worried. What’s so important?’ I kept control of my temper.

‘Unless you start working, Val, and fast, six V.I.P.s won’t take off and we will have fallen down on our first assignment. Judge for yourself how important it is.’

‘Clay... you’re shouting at me!’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve had quite a morning. I’ve even had to get my ex-secretary to help out. Come on, Val. Let’s get stuck into it.’

‘But I can’t work in this. I must change. This dress looks marvellous but it is a beast to sit in, and besides, darling, I haven’t had lunch, have you?’

I moved around her, sat at her desk and pulled the typewriter towards me.

‘No. I don’t want anything right now. I’ll start these while you change. Be as quick as you can, won’t you?’ She touched my shoulder lightly.

‘I believe you are angry with me.’

‘Just be as quick as you can.’ Threading paper into the machine, I began to type.

She looked at me for a long moment, then picking up the plastic bag, she left the room.

The buzzer sounded on my desk. Cursing, I crossed over and snapped down the switch.

‘Mr. Burden? This is the security guard. A messenger on a motorcycle, Jake Lamb, asking for you.’

I said to send him up, then returned to my typing.

Some five minutes later a girl brought Jake in. He stared around the luxurious office, his eyes popping.

‘Doing yourself pretty well, aren’t you, Mr. Burden?’ he said.

‘Not so bad.’ I gave him the passports. ‘Get these back with the visas as quick as you can, Jake. It’s an emergency.’

‘Sure. Miss Harkness told me,’ and he winked at me.

As I led him to the door where the girl was waiting I pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand.

When he had gone, I completed one of the schedules and was starting on another when Val came in. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt, and looked wonderful.

‘I’ve ordered sandwiches and martinis,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll take over.’

‘Fine. I’ll fix the flights.’

I moved out of her chair.

‘Not cross with me any longer, darling?’

‘No, of course not.’

She sat down. ‘I’ve often thought of this moment Clay, when we would work together again. Do you like your office?’

I sat down at my desk, aware we were wasting time.

As I lifted the receiver, I said, ‘Marvellous. If only Dyer hadn’t left us with such a pile of urgent work...’

There came a tap on the door and a flunkey entered wheeling a trolley on which stood two silver covers, a big cocktail shaker and glasses.

‘All right, Ferdy,’ Val said. ‘We’ll help ourselves.’

When he had gone, she got up and poured drinks while I talked to Pan-Am.

‘I’m hungry,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come and eat Clay,’ and she look the covers of neatly cut sandwiches.

‘Let’s eat while we work,’ I said.

‘I can’t eat and type at the same time. I’ll get everything greasy, and you can’t talk on the phone and eat at the same time. Don’t be difficult Clay. Come and eat.’

I gave up. So if these damn V.I.P.s didn’t take off, it was just too bad. If Val didn’t realise the amount of work we had to do before I went home then, that was also too bad.

I joined her at the trolley and took a double martini-gin from her.

‘Here’s to us, darling,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘It’s fun. Isn’t it?’

I drank half the cocktail at a gulp and immediately felt better and hungry. We began eating the caviar and smoked salmon sandwiches.

‘God! It’s been endless... this waiting,’ she said. ‘I thought Monday would never come, didn’t you?’

‘You can say that again.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Val, we must have extra help. We need a leg-man to handle the visas and do the odd jobs. I’ve spoken to Lucas and he says I must speak to Vidal. Can you fix it?’

‘Henry won’t like it. The man will have to be paid.’

‘You can’t expect to get him for nothing.’ Again I felt a wave of irritation run through me. She was treating this too casually.

‘I’ll talk to Lucas. He’s not cooperative.’

‘Look, Val, if you can’t fix it, we can’t handle this job. It’s as simple as that.’

‘We won’t need visas every day surely?’

‘There will be other things for him to do. We must have an outside man.’

‘You’re not eating, darling.’

I finished my martini.

‘I’ve had enough,’ and I returned to my desk.

‘Clay...’

I paused as I reached for the telephone.

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t get so worked up. We’ll manage.’

‘If you really want me with you, Val,’ I said speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘we’ve not only got to manage, but we’ve got to have a leg-man!’

I then dialled North-Eastern airlines and asked for Reservations.

‘Would you think I was terribly greedy if I had some more sandwiches?’ she said. ‘They’re marvellous, aren’t they?’ She poured herself another martini. ‘Do have some more, darling. You’ve scarcely eaten anything.’

I was too exasperated to speak. I couldn’t even took at her.

Then the booking clerk came on the line.

This was a hell of a beginning, I thought as I held on while he checked the flight. Was it going to work? Had she allowed me to kiss her, to hold her in my arms for a brief moment, maybe I wouldn’t have been in such a frustrated rage, but that and the fact she was so casual and calm about the mountain of work facing us made me wish to God I was back in the quiet Spanish Bay hotel office with Sue efficiently coping.

Val was still eating a sandwich when I had concluded talking to the clerk. I had Pan-Am, B.O.A.C., and Swiss Air still to call. As I dialled Pan-Am I said, ‘For God’s sake, Val! Do get started! Look at the time! It’s after three!’

Her eyes widened as she picked up another sandwich.

‘What’s making you so nervy Clay? Please don’t shout at me like this. I don’t like it.’

I eased my collar that was choking me.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. We must get on with this work!’

The Pan-Am man came on the line and I gave him names and times.

She finished the sandwich, wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and, carrying her martini, went to her desk. She began to type.

Even as I was making the reservations, I was aware that she was pecking and hunting. In the past, she had been the fastest typist I had ever had, making her typewriter sound like an exploding machine gun. This hesitant tap-tap-tap gave me a feeling of panicky despair. At her rate of typing the schedules would take a week to finish! Even I could type four times as fast and I was no typist. I completed my order with Pan-Am, then looked up B.O.A.C.’s telephone number, still listening to the painfully slow tap-tap-tap. Then suddenly she said, ‘Oh, hell!’ loudly, stared at what she had typed, ripped out the five sheets of paper, crumpled them and threw them violently into her trash basket.

‘Don’t keep staring at me! You’re making me nervous.’ she said furiously. ‘I haven’t touched a typewriter for six years... what do you expect?’

‘Let’s change places,’ I said, beginning to get desperate. ‘You book the flights and I’ll do the typing.’

‘I’m damned if I will!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You do your job! I’ll do mine!’

We were glaring at each other when the door opened silently and a man came in.

To say he startled me was an understatement. He looked like a cheap gangster straight out of an old Bogart movie. He had on a grey suit with thick black stripes, a white slouch hat, a black shirt and a white tie. If that wasn’t old hat enough, to add to the picture were his long black sideboards, his blue chin and a phony diamond stick pin. He looked like a thug you see in newspaper cartoons.

But he was no joke. There was a deadly stillness about him that increased my heartbeat. His flat, snake’s eyes, his small lipless mouth told me as nothing else could that this man, standing in the doorway, was as lethal and as dangerous as a black mamba.

His little eyes moved over me with a contemptuous indifference that was an insult, then he slightly turned his head on his thick bull-like neck and found Val. He moved to her desk and dropped an envelope before her.

‘The Boss says to fix it pronto.’

He had a voice like a fall of gravel.

Turning on his heels, he moved out of the room the way a snake moves, swiftly and in complete silence. The door closed behind him.

I looked at Val. Her face was as white as a fresh fall of snow.

The buzzer of my intercom made me start. I snapped down the switch.

‘Burden...’

It was Dyer.

‘I’m sending up a brief, old boy. Terribly sorry. I should have handled it last week. Went clean out of my mind. Mr. Wernstein has just arrived at the Spanish Bay hotel. Mr. Vidal promised him some deep-sea fishing. Lay on a boat and a crew for him, will you? It’s all in the brief.’

I stared helplessly at the intercom. I was still trying to recover from the gangsters visit.

Val suddenly appeared at my desk.

‘Dyer!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘You handle it! Understand? We’re too busy to bother with fishing boats! You forgot it... you fix it!’ and leaning past me, she snapped up the switch.

We looked at each other. Faint colour was back in her cheeks, but her eyes were panicky.

‘Who was that?’ I said and nodded to the door.

‘Guilio Gesetti. One of my husband’s hatchet men... that’s what they’re called, aren’t they?’ Her voice was shaking. ‘The man who threw acid I told you about. The man who would kill us both if my husband gave him the nod.’

My mouth turned dry. I began to say something, but the words made no sound. I hadn’t really believed her when she had warned me of Vidal’s thugs, but I believed her now... seeing was believing. I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

She returned to her desk, ripped open the envelope Gesetti had left and read the letter.

She drew in a long, slow breath as she looked at me.

‘Henry is going to Libya on the 5th... that’s the day after tomorrow. He returns on the 9th. We are to arrange everything for him.’ She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘We will have almost a week without him, darling. Think of it... a whole week!’

Gesetti had thrown such a scare into me I felt no pleasure at the news.

‘I’ll fix his flight,’ I said and reached for the telephone.

Jake Lamb, the A.T.S. messenger, was shown into my office a few minutes to 17.00. With a wide grin and a wink, he handed me the Rangoon visas.

‘There you are, Mr. Burden.’ I saw his eyes stray to Val and his lips pursed into a soundless whistle. ‘All in order.’

‘Many thanks, Jake. You’re a lifesaver.’

I had completed Vidal’s Libyan schedule and was now waiting impatiently for Val to finish typing it. So far she had only completed one schedule and was now pecking and hunting at the Libyan schedule.

I had the problem of getting the visas to the Jacksons. They were staying at the Palace Hotel which was well out of Jake’s way, but I had to ask him. I had no one else to send.

He looked dubiously at his watch.

‘I’m late as it is. Mr. Olson will raise hell.’

I put the visas in an envelope with the schedule and took a five dollar bill from my wallet. I looked at him and lifted my eyebrows.

He grinned.

‘Well, okay, Mr. Burden: anything to oblige. I can always say I had a flat.’

When he had gone, I looked across at Val.

‘That’s personally cost me fifteen dollars. Can you now see why we must have a leg-man?’

‘Don’t talk! I’m busy,’ she snapped, then, ‘Oh, hell! You’ve made me make a mistake!’

‘I’m sorry.’ I knew I didn’t sound sorry, but I was too worried to care.

Going to the telex, I began typing a request for accommodation in New York. One of my telephone bells rang.

‘Would you get it, please?’ I said without looking around.

I heard her mutter something, then she answered the telephone.

She said impatiently, ‘Hello? Yes... he’s here. Who is it? Oh!’ A slight pause, then she went on, ‘Will you hold it, please?’

‘It’s for you,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Your wife!’

We stared at each other. This was something I hadn’t foreseen. My hands turned clammy. Had Rhoda recognised Val’s voice?

I picked up the receiver.

‘Rhoda?’

‘That’s me. When you buy the bread rolls and the cream, will you also get me two packs of cigarettes? I’m right out.’ I looked at the litter of papers on my desk and then at the desk clock. The time was 17.35.

‘I’m sorry, honey, no can do. I’ll be working late. You get them. I’ll be lucky if I get back before half past nine.’

‘Half past nine?’ Her voice shot up. ‘For God’s sake! What kind of job is this?’

‘It happens to be a busy day.’ I tried to keep my voice under control. ‘First day... you know. Look, honey, I’ll have to hang up. My desk is loaded.’

‘If you think I’m going to wait until nine-thirty before I eat, you’re mistaken!’ Her voice turned shrill.

‘All right... all right! Eat when you like! Don’t wait for me,’ and I hung up.

Val said, her voice unsteady, ‘Did she recognise my voice?’

‘I don’t know and right now I don’t give a damn! Let’s get on!’

Soon after 18.00, Val finished the Libyan schedule.

‘That’s number two, thank God! Now I must fly or I’ll be late.’

I stared at her as she hurriedly removed the carbons.

‘You going?’

‘I have to.’

‘But there are three more schedules to do, Val.’

‘They must wait,’ she said impatiently. ‘I have a dinner date with the Wernsteins, damn them! Henry arranged it. I can’t get out of it.’

‘Okay.’ I was too depressed to argue. ‘If you have to go, you have to go.’

‘Don’t be cross, darling. It’ll be better tomorrow.’

‘I hope to God you’re right!’

She came over swiftly, kissed my cheek lightly and was gone.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I should have anticipated this, I told myself. How the hell could we possibly have sex in Vidal’s own home? It would have been a lot better, easier and safer if I had stayed with the A.T.S.

I was so frustrated that I banged my clenched fists on my desk. After a few minutes I cooled down and wearily looked at the Vidal schedule that Val had typed. It was crowded with typing errors. I suddenly didn’t care anymore. If Vidal didn’t like his wife’s typing, he could tell her so. I put the schedule together with the flight ticket and the hotel voucher in an envelope and addressed it to the Intercontinental hotel, San Salvador.

Laboriously, I began to type the remaining schedules. It wasn’t until 22.00 that I finally cleared my desk.

By the time I had driven out to Miami airport, given the Vidal schedule to an air hostess, who I knew, to deliver to Vidal when she arrived at the Intercontinental hotel in the afternoon, and then driven back to my apartment the time was 23.18.

I found Rhoda watching TV.

‘You’re late!’ she exclaimed, her eyes not moving from the lighted screen. ‘Don’t talk now... this is exciting.’

I went into the kitchen and looked around. There was no sign of any food.

‘Did you get anything?’ I called.

‘No, I forgot. Don’t interrupt!’

I fixed myself a whisky and soda, strong enough to knock over a horse. Then I opened a can of beans and not bothering to heat them, I ate them cold from the can.

I finished as the TV programme finished.

Rhoda came into the kitchen. I could tell by the way she stood, her hands on her hips and her face set that I was heading for trouble.

‘So Slinky answers the telephone for you,’ she said. ‘You must feel flattered.’

I was expecting this. I never underestimated Rhoda’s shrewdness.

‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office,’ I said, rinsing my glass. ‘I was on the telex so she answered.’

‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office? Who do you think you’re conning? You told me that whore was away!’

I held on to my rising temper, but only just. I put the glass down.

‘Try not to be more vulgar than you can help, Rhoda. I told you Mrs. Vidal is away a great deal. She’s not away right now. She came in to see if I approved of the office.’

‘Don’t you dare call me vulgar!’ Rhoda screamed. ‘If anyone’s vulgar it’s your precious Slinky with her money and her jewels! If she’s not a whore, she looks like one!’

‘Have it your own way. I’m going to bed. I’m tired.’

I made to pass her but she blocked my exit.

‘Tired! I bet you are!’ she shrilled. ‘Working until now! Do you think I’m that wet behind the ears? I bet you’ve been screwing that whore!’

I shouldn’t have drunk so much whisky. I did something that was completely out of character and beyond my control.

I slapped her face so hard she went staggering into the living room, overbalanced and sat down hard on the floor.

She sat there, staring up at me, her mouth open, her eyes dazed.

I stepped around her and went into the bedroom. I was shaking and sick with myself. I sat on the bed and put my hands to my face.

After some minutes, she came in and keeping away from me, she began to undress. Every now and then a dry little sob escaped her.

These sounds didn’t touch me. I was too absorbed in my own despair. The fact that I now fully realised I couldn’t make love to Val in Vidal’s house and that I would have to plot and plan to get her somewhere safe where I could, gave me such a feeling of suffocating frustration that Rhoda just didn’t exist.

Suddenly she said in a snivelling little voice, ‘I shouldn’t have said that Clay. You were right to hit me. I deserved it.’

I suppose I should have taken her in my arms then and told her I was also sorry, but I didn’t. Instead I said wearily, ‘Let’s forget it,’ and getting up, I began to undress.

‘You did hurt me. Really you did.’

‘Do you imagine you didn’t hurt me?’ Reaching for my pyjamas, I moved to the bathroom. ‘Let’s forget it.’

Later, when we were lying side by side in the dark, she reached for me, but I pushed her hand away.

‘Go to sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m tired even if you’re not.’

A callous thing to have said, but I was still smouldering with frustration and I didn’t give a damn if I hurt her or not.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I thought with dread of the work to be done tomorrow, of Val’s pecking and hunting, of looking at her and not being allowed to touch her.

Rhoda was soon asleep. The soft little snorts she always made when sleeping got so badly on my nerves I was tempted to wake her, but I didn’t.

At 06.30, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. I took my clothes into the bathroom, shaved, showered and dressed. She was still sleeping when I tiptoed into the kitchen. I made myself a cup of coffee. There was no bread for toast. I saw a pack of cigarettes on the table. She hadn’t forgotten her cigarettes.

As I was putting the cup and saucer in the sink, she appeared, looking doleful and in a mess.

‘Why are you up so early?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to the office. I have a load of work still to do. Will you try to remember to get in some bread and cream? If I’m going to be late, I’ll call you.’

‘Oh, Clay, I wish you hadn’t taken this job. I really do. I’m sure it is a mistake.’

I had a sudden uneasy feeling she was right, but I was committed.

‘You like your car, don’t you? See you tonight,’ and I left her.

Val didn’t come to the office until 10.15. There was a guilty expression in her eyes as she shut the door.

‘I’m sorry to be so late, darling,’ she said and quickly sat down behind her desk. ‘I had a hell of a night with those two old bores and I overslept.’

I had been working steadily since 07.30. In that time I had completed six briefs, typed the schedules, arranged the flights, but I had four visas still to cope with.

‘We’re back on the visa problem, Val. Will you call Lucas and tell him we must have a leg-man pronto?’

Her eyes widened.

‘I can’t do that. I have no authority.’

‘Okay, then we’ll get one without authority.’ I called an Employment agency I had dealings with, told them I needed a boy to run messages and I wanted him fast. They said they would send someone over within the hour. The cost would be sixty dollars a week. They had a student on vacation who would welcome the work.

I then went over to the telex machine and sent a telex to Vidal: Need your authorisation for messenger at sixty per week. Essential, Burden.

Val just sat there, listening and watching.

‘Well, that fixes that,’ I said, returning to my desk. ‘If your husband kicks, then I’ll pay the boy.’

‘He won’t like it.’

‘Too bad. Tell me, Val, who are all those people travelling at his expense?’

‘People who work for him. People he has to bribe. He’s too smart to give them money. They get their vacations free.’

‘Why does he have to bribe them?’

‘To get information. He lives on other people’s information.’

‘Do you know his credit is being cut from six months to mm month everywhere? Is he in trouble?’

She stiffened.

‘Trouble?’

‘I heard his empire could crash. It’s no more than talk, but might it?’

She passed the tip of her tongue over her lips.

‘He’s worth millions.’

‘Other men have been worth millions. That doesn’t mean a thing. Has he said anything to you? I’m not being curious, Val. I’m thinking of you. If there is a crash, what will you do?’

‘He won’t crash. He is far too evil.’ She shook her head. ‘The devil looks after his own.’

At this moment the intercom buzzed and Dyer told me he was sending up three briefs that were immediate.

She had heard what he had said so I didn’t have to repeat it.

‘Let’s get on.’ I began on another brief.

She began her peck and hunt routine. After a girl had brought up the briefs and I had studied them, Val’s slow tap-tap-tap stretched my nerves to snapping point.

Finally, I could stand it no longer.

‘Val! This can’t go on! I must have a fast typist! You can see that, can’t you? You’re so out of practice we just can’t go on like this. I don’t mean to be unkind...’ I broke off as I saw her face crumple in utter despair and she put her arms across the typewriter and her head on them. Her body began to shake with sobs.

Alarmed, I went to her, only just restraining myself from taking her in my arms.

‘Val, forgive me!’ My frustration and irritation gave way to remorse and pity. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’t be upset, darling. Let’s talk about it. There must be a solution. Come on, darling, don’t give way.’

She straightened up. The haunted, desperate expression in her eyes shocked me.

‘Can’t you understand what is happening?’ She pressed the palms of her hands hard against her eyes. ‘Do you really believe I have forgotten how to type? Can’t you see the battle that is going on before your eyes?’

I stared at her.

‘Battle? Forgive me but I just don’t know what you are saying.’

She dropped her hands into her lap with a gesture of despair.

‘I’ve explained and explained. You just don’t understand.’ She leaned forward, staring up at me. ‘He is punishing me! The moment I put my fingers on the keyboard, I feel him taking over, forcing me to make mistakes, paralysing my fingers so every time I touch a key, it is a struggle. It was he who forced me to oversleep this morning so I would be late. It was he who forced me to go to Palm Beach yesterday to buy a dress I didn’t want. He is destroying the confidence I once had in my efficiency deliberately, gleefully to punish me.’

Trilby and Svengali: devils and spirits... they were all back again. Helplessly I stared at her, trying to understand, willing myself to understand.

‘But why, Val? Why should he want to punish you?’

She shuddered, her hands turning into fists.

‘I won’t let him make love to me. After that first night... never, never again! Oh, Clay! I can’t talk about it.’ She put her hand over her eyes as she whispered, ‘Horrible... horrible.’

The telex began to clatter. I spun around, my nerves crawling.

She caught her breath in a dry, choking sob.

‘That’s him now.’ The fear in her voice chilled me. ‘He always knows when he is succeeding in punishing me. It doesn’t matter how far away he is. He knows.’

The machine stopped typing.

‘Go and look.’

With my heart hammering I went to the machine and ripped out the paper. It shook in my hands as I read the message.

Silently I gave the message to Val. When she had read it, we stared at each other.

‘You see?’ Her voice trembled. ‘He knows he has succeeded. Now do you believe me? Do you still think I’m being hysterical? Do you still believe that I am a free agent and not completely in his power... that his will hasn’t conquered mine?’

‘There must be some way I can help you, Val.’

‘But you still don’t believe, do you?’

‘Yes, I do. I think he has got you under a hypnotic Influence. It can be the only answer, but how can I help you?’ She shook her head wearily.

‘There is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do. I thought I was strong enough to fight him, but I’m not!’ She looked away as she said half to herself, ‘As long as my life lasts, as long as his life lasts, I shall be his slave.’

Then I remembered what Dyer had told me: that he had snapped his fingers and Val had gone into a trance. Without thinking of the consequences, I lifted my hand.

‘Look at me, Val,’ I said, then I snapped my finger and thumb together