Believe This... You’ll Believe Anything

Eight

The bell of my alarm clock which I had set to go off at 06.00 woke me with a start. I had gone to bed early and knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep with so much on my mind I had taken three sleeping pills.

Before the pills had finally bludgeoned me into sleep I had looked at my future with despair. I was sure Rhoda was capable of writing to Vidal. Val had said with conviction that if ever Vidal found out we were lovers he would have us killed. I was sure now this was no idle warning. There was no use in confiding in Rhoda, telling her that if she gave me away I could be killed. She would only think this was an exaggeration to prevent her telling him. She just wouldn’t believe it: a beating, yes, but murder, no.

Murder?

This brought me full circle. If I killed Vidal my troubles would be over. Val would be free and Rhoda could no longer blackmail me. Even if Rhoda refused me a divorce, Val and I could go away. Once Val was back to her old efficient self, we could work together. We could disappear to Canada or to England. With our training and experience we were certain to get good jobs in some travel office and later (who knows?) by saving our money, we might even set up as travel agents on our own.

Under the drowsy influence of the sleeping pills I became more optimistic. Maybe the future wasn’t going to be so black as I had first thought. As I lay there in this half-world of sleep and wakefulness I even felt capable of murdering Vidal.

I struggled up and turned off the alarm. The sun was shining through the blinds. Sitting on the edge of the bed I ran my fingers through my hair, grimacing as my head began to throb and ache. The strange silence in the room puzzled me. It was as if I had become suddenly deaf, then I realised the wind had died down. For the past twelve hours its screaming and the noise of the wind-lashed palm trees had been deafening. I went to the window and drew up the blind.

Outside, everything dripped water, but there was no wind and the sun felt strong.

Maybe, I thought, the hurricane has already blown itself out.

It seemed strange to have the apartment to myself and not to hear Rhoda singing in the bathroom. Loneliness is a funny thing. When I had her around, she irritated me, but now, I missed her.

I made coffee and then dressed. At 07.15 I went down to the garage.

Hank, the night man, was polishing a car. He was a tall, thin black who took too much interest in the occupants of the apartments.

‘Morning, Mr. Burden,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’re right early. I see Mrs. Burden’s car ain’t here.’

‘She’s staying at the hotel and I’m staying at Paradise Largo until the hurricane passes. Hold any mail for us, will you Hank?’

‘Sure will, Mr. Burden. That hurricane is going to be a big nuisance.’

‘Looks as if it has already blown itself out.’

Grinning, he shook his head.

‘No, sir. That little hurricane ain’t blown itself out. It’s gathering its strength. By dusk, it’ll really get going.

I drove out on to the empty streets. The City now looked as if it were expecting a hostile invasion. The windows of the stores and better shops were boarded up. There was scarcely any traffic. Coming to the hotel belt I saw men trimming the palms and sawing off overhanging tree branches.

The security guard nodded to me as I showed him my pass.

‘I’ll be staying until it’s over,’ I told him.

He grunted, his expression surly.

‘So will I if this goddamn box doesn’t blow away.’

‘Has Mr. Vidal arrived yet?’

‘Passed through half an hour ago.’

I found a change in the house when I parked my car. All the windows were boarded up and there were two men on the flat roof, capping the chimneys. A Chinese gardener was staking the standard rose trees. Another was shoring up a leaning palm.

Entering my dark office, I turned on the lights. On my desk stood a hurricane lamp and a box of matches. I glanced at the boarded up windows, then at my desk clock. The time was 08.00.

Henriques, Vidal’s accountant, had asked me to prepare the month’s statement giving names, destinations and costs. As I had nothing else to do and needed to keep my mind occupied I got out the various dockets and receipts and began to list them.

Around 08.45 a tap came on the door and Dyer came in.

‘Hello there.’ He had a powerful electric torch in his hand which he placed on my desk. ‘The hurricane is supposed to hit around 21.00. All electricity will be cut off so you’d better keep this handy. It’s going to be damned hot without the air conditioners and with no ventilation.’ He sat on the corner of my desk and lit a cigarette. ‘Tiny arrived about an hour ago.’ He grimaced. ‘Not in the best of tempers. He’s with Mrs. V. now.’

‘Did he say if they were going to stay?’ Dyer grinned.

‘He didn’t even say good morning. I’m working in the room immediately below this one. His office is next to mine at the back, overlooking the pool in case he yells for you. There’s a lot of mail come in, probably the last until it’s over.’

‘Anything I can do?’

‘Not right now. My intercom is four. See you,’ and he left me.

I sat still, wondering what was going on in Val’s room. My nerves were jumpy and I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I opened my desk drawer where I had put my brief case. The outline of the gun gave me no comfort. Shutting the drawer. I tried to concentrate on the dockets, but my mind kept chasing down the corridor to Val’s room.

Then remembering. I had left my overnight bag in the Plymouth, I got to my feet and went to the door, opened it and stood listening. I heard nothing. Slowly, I moved along the corridor to within ten yards of Val’s door. I paused at the head of the stairs and again listened.

Suddenly I heard Vidal’s short barking laugh. The sound chilled me.

‘You’d better get up.’ His squeaky voice came clearly to me. ‘Does you more harm than good lolling around in bed. Get dressed and find something to do!’

Seeing the door handle turn, I started swiftly down the stairs. I reached the hall as Vidal reached the head of the stairs.

‘Ah, Burden!’

His voice stopped me as if I had run into a wall. I turned and looked up at him. He was wearing a pearl grey City suit with a white silk shirt and a blood red tie. He came swiftly down the stairs and as he passed me, he went on, ‘I want to talk to you.’ There was a heavy frown on his face and as he walked, he slapped his hands together impatiently.

Following him, I was again aware of the power and width of his shoulders that seemed to ooze strength.

He opened a door and bounced into a vast room, dominated by a big Chippendale desk: a room of comfort, luxury and good taste. He went around the desk and sat down.

‘I’m pleased you are staying Burden. You never know... you could be useful. I have to stay: an important telephone call. Mrs. Vidal has elected to stay with me. God knows why.’ He shrugged impatiently. ‘She would be better leaving with Mrs. Clements. She says she doesn’t feel like the journey.’ He waved to a chair. ‘Sit down.’

As I sat down there came a tap on the door and the butler came in with a tray of coffee which he set on the desk.

‘Want coffee?’ Vidal asked me.

‘No, thank you.’ I felt I would throw up if I took coffee. ‘I’ve had mine.’

‘Right.’ He waved the butler away. ‘Harris, you’d better get going. Guilio will look after me.’

‘Very good, sir.’ The butler closed the door after him.

‘They’re all nervous,’ Vidal said. ‘I dislike having nervous people around me.’ He paused, then went on, ‘your work’s very satisfactory Burden. It couldn’t have been easy with Mrs. Vidal having the vapours. Have you got a secretary?’

‘Yes, but I told to keep away until the hurricane’s over.’

‘Mrs. Vidal, as I expected, doesn’t want to continue working with you. She found it too hard so you’d better keep this girl you’ve found if you’re satisfied with her. What are we paying her?’

I told him.

‘That’s all right. Now I have a job for you. Get on to it right away. If this hurricane turns out as bad as they say it’s going to be, we’ll lose the telephone: all the lines will be down. Charter an air taxi on standby to be ready to take off the moment the weather permits. Destination San Salvador, three passengers with luggage. I’ll give you the names later, but get the aircraft booked.’ He gave a mirthless grin. ‘Tell that jerk I’ll pay cash.’

‘Yes, Mr. Vidal.’ I got to my feet.

‘Don’t run away for the moment. When you’ve done that Burden, do me a favour, will you?’

This was so unexpected, I stared at him for a moment before saying, ‘Of course, Mr. Vidal.’

‘Keep Mrs. Vidal amused this afternoon, will you? She gets along with you. Play gin rummy or some goddamn thing with her. She’s nervy and I have a load of work to do.’ I could scarcely believe I was hearing rightly.

‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ I said huskily.

‘That’s a good fellow.’ He reached for a legal looking document. It was his way of dismissing me.

My heart thumping with excitement, I moved into the hall, shutting Vidal’s door gently behind me. Coming down the stairs was Mrs. Clements, Harris, the butler and a fat man I assumed was the chef. They were all carrying suitcases. I stood aside to let them pass. Mrs. Clements gave me a curt nod, Harris inclined his head, the chef ignored me. When they had left the house, I went into Dyer’s office.

He was thumping a typewriter with two fingers. He paused to grin at me.

‘The rats gone?’

‘Where are they off to?’

‘Catching the last flight to Dallas. They’ve all got the jitters about Hermes. Tiny told them to go and we now have no staff except Gesetti. He swears he can cook. I hope he can. You’ll have to make your own bed. Can you type?’

‘Fair.’

‘You could help out.’ He pushed some papers across his desk. ‘If you will type this lot with two copies I’ll be obliged.’

‘Sure.’ I took the papers up to my office, put them on the desk, hesitated, then started from the office towards Val’s room. I had only taken three steps along the corridor when I came to an abrupt halt.

Coming up the stairs, moving like a ghost, was Gesetti.

We looked at each other. From under the brim of his white hat, his flat snake’s eyes glittered menacingly.

The sight of him chilled me.

‘Looking for something, buster?’ he demanded and came up the last of the stairs with the speed of a cat.

I backed away from him. He looked as lethal as a cobra. Panic grabbed me. I backed into my office and hurriedly shut the door.

This was the man, Val had told me, who would kill us if Vidal found out that we were lovers. He put the fear of God into me. It was something I couldn’t control. I was furious with myself that I had shown him so clearly I was frightened of him, but there was something so vicious and deadly about him surely anyone would be frightened of him?

I sat at my desk, wiping my clammy hands with my handkerchief, listening for the sound of his footsteps, but hearing nothing. I was sure he was still outside my door. I had to restrain the urge to rush to the door and turn the key.

It took me nearly ten minutes to calm down. I now hadn’t the courage to venture out of the office. I still couldn’t be sure that Gesetti wasn’t out there in the corridor so I called Roger Everet of the Florida Air Taxi service.

‘Hello, Burden,’ he said when he came to the telephone. ‘What’s it this time? Your dwarf paid up like a lamb by the way.’

‘He wants an air taxi: three passengers and luggage for San Salvador on standby. As soon as Hermes has blown itself out he wants to take off.’

‘Can do. Same terms?’

‘Same terms.’

‘Okay, tell him the kite will be at readiness.’

‘What do the weather boys say?’

‘Could be through in three or four days but it’ll be bad while it lasts. Let’s see, today’s Tuesday. He could take off Saturday with luck.’

‘Okay. I’ll tell him.’

I still had no desire to see Val as yet. Gesetti had acted like a bucket of cold water thrown over me so I began to type the paper Dyer had given me: dull speeches of directors of an oil corporation.

As I typed I became aware that the wind was hissing. The palm trees began to rustle. Away in the distance came the faint rumble of thunder.

At lunchtime I went down to the darkened dining room. On the table were two plates of sandwiches and bottles of beer. I took two sandwiches and a beer back to my office, then completed the work Dyer had given me.

The wind was now whistling through the trees and slamming against the boarded up windows. The thunder sounded closer.

Later Dyer called me on the intercom.

‘Finished those speeches yet?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Shall I bring them down?’

‘Tiny’s asking for them. Take them to him, will you?’

I found Vidal at his desk, a pint of milk and some sandwiches near him. He looked up from the paper he was reading.

‘Those speeches you wanted, Mr. Vidal,’ I said and put them on his desk.

‘Thanks.’ He leaned back in his chair and reached for a sandwich. ‘Got that air taxi fixed?’

‘Yes. Everet thinks you could take off on Saturday.’

‘I hope he’s right. Now go talk to Mrs. Vidal. I’ve just been up. She’s complaining she’s lonely.’ He eyed me, then went on, ‘and listen Burden, don’t give her any sympathy. She imagines she is having a nervous breakdown. That’s a lot of hooey. She’s just bored. When women get bored they dream up any damn thing to make themselves the centre of attention. So don’t play along with her. Understand?’

I hesitated. Then bracing myself, I looked directly at him.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Vidal, but I don’t agree.’

He was reaching for a pen as I spoke. His hand hovered over the pen and he looked up sharply.

‘What was that?’

‘I was with Mrs. Vidal when she fainted. She hit her head. Dr. Fontane visited her twice a day for three days and he called in a specialist. It doesn’t seem reasonable to me to suggest this is an attempt to attract attention.’

He sat back, his little eyes probing.

‘Interesting. Do you think she is having a nervous breakdown Burden?’

‘I don’t know, but you don’t fall and hit your head for the fun of it.’

He gave his short barking laugh.

‘That tells me how much you know about women. Of course they’ll fall and hurt their heads or scratch their wrists with a razor blade or take just enough sleeping pills if they feel neglected. Women are special animals, but I understand them. Don’t worry about Mrs. Vidal. If anyone is to worry it’ll be me and I’m not worrying yet. Go and see her, amuse her, do something to get her mind off herself.’ He reached for his pen and signed the paper he had been reading.

I remained where I was. He looked up and frowned at me.

‘Go along Burden. I’m busy.’

‘I think you should begin to worry, Mr. Vidal.’ I was determined now to have it out with him. ‘I think there is something radically wrong with Mrs. Vidal.’

That made him pause. He sat back in his chair.

‘Wrong? What do you mean?’

‘There are times when she appears to be hypnotised.’

His eyebrows crawled up.

‘Hypnotised? What the hell are you saying? Who would want to hypnotise her?’ He gave his short, barking laugh. ‘Utter nonsense!’

This made me angry and without caring, I said, ‘I believe you are responsible! I believe you have hypnotised her!’ He stared fixedly at me, his little eyes glittering. Then the telephone bell rang. He waved me to the door.

‘Believe that Burden, you’ll believe anything. Now get out!’ He picked up the telephone receiver.

As I closed the door, I heard him say, ‘This is Vidal. Goddamn it! You’re late...’

Well, I’ve told him, I thought as I climbed the stairs. He now knows I know. Would that make him more cautious? Would it make it now easier for Val? That was all I wanted: to make it easier for her.

Reaching the head of the stairs, I walked quickly down the corridor and tapped on Val’s door.

‘Who is it?’ Her voice sounded unsteady.

‘It’s Clay,’ I said, my mouth close to the door panel.

The key turned and the door opened. Val moved back as I entered the room.

We looked at each other as I shut the door. She had on a blue housecoat. Her hair lay on her shoulders. The sight of her, so pale, dark smudges under her eyes, her hands trembling sent a pang through me.

‘How do you feel darling?’ I longed to take her in my arms.

‘How do I feel?’ She moved listlessly to a chair and sank into it. ‘Desperate Clay, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no more will. I want to kill myself.’ Her face crumbled and she closed her eyes. ‘I haven’t even the will to do that.’

A sudden crash of thunder made me start. The wind now was screaming around the house.

‘Kill yourself?’ I turned cold with alarm. ‘What’s happened, Val? Has he molested you?’

‘Oh, there’s that.’ She put her hands to her face. ‘I’ve got beyond caring about that. No, it’s the end of everything now for me and for you. He has decided to leave. I am to go with him.’

‘Leave? Where is he going?’

‘He has decided to settle in Lima... where he can’t be extradited.’

I pulled up a chair close to her and sat down.

‘Extradited? Val, darling, don’t talk in riddles. Is he in trouble?’

She nodded.

‘You were right Clay. His empire is going to crash. He owes millions and the Federal people are investigating his tax position. He doesn’t seem to mind. He treats it as a joke. As soon as the hurricane is over, he, I and Gesetti are flying to San Salvador where he has hidden money. Then we go to Lima. He says he’ll begin again. It also means he can never return to the United States. I go with him. I can never return. I’ll lose you again, but this time for good.’

I couldn’t believe this. I caught hold of her hand.

‘I won’t let him take you, Val! I said I would help you and I’m going to help you! I’ll tell the tax people he is preparing to skip. They’ll arrest him!’

She shook her head.

‘It’s too late to do that. He is protected by his lawyers. Before the Federal people could get a warrant, he’ll be gone, taking me with him. No... that’s not the way.’ She stood up abruptly and began to move around the room. ‘There is no way...’

A violent gust of wind slammed against the house followed by a crash of thunder. I could hear the rain beating on the roof.

I thought of the gun in my desk drawer.

‘I have a gun, Val.’

She paused to stare at me, her eyes widening.

‘A gun?’

‘When he is dead you will be free.’

She put her hand to her throat.

‘I can never be free even when he is dead.’ A crazed expression came into her eyes. ‘Shoot me!’ Her voice turned shrill. ‘That is the solution! If only you knew how tired I am of living the life he has forced me to live. If I had the will I would beg you to give me the gun and I would do it myself.’ She came up to me, laying her hand on my arm. ‘You can do it Clay! Shoot me in the head! They will think it is suicide. No one would blame you, darling! Don’t you see? You would be freeing me! Please say you will do it!’

I looked at her in horror.

God! I thought. He has driven her out of her mind!

Her fingers were digging into my arm as she went on, ‘No one will hear the shot in this storm! The doctors know I am on the verge of a breakdown! You will be safe, darling. No one would suspect you. Get the gun now! Then do it please! No one will suspect you!’

‘Val! For God’s sake, pull yourself together!’ I had to raise my voice against the noise of the storm which was beginning to become deafening. ‘I’m not doing it! Now, stop it! Pull yourself together! There must be some way out for us!’

She let go of my arm and stepped back. The misery in her eyes sickened me.

‘I thought you loved me! How can you love me and let me suffer like this... oh, go away!’ She ran to the bed and threw herself face down on it. As she began to sob there came a tremendous crashing sound as if a tree had been uprooted and had fallen against the house.

I went to her and put my hands on her shoulders.

‘Darling Val! Please don’t. I said I would help you and I will help you. Please be patient.’

She rounded on me, her face convulsed with anger and fear.

‘Go away! I hate you! Leave me! Go away!’ Her voice rose to a scream. Fearing that even above the noise of the elements raging outside someone might hear her, I backed to the door, hesitated, then moved into the corridor.

I stood for some moments listening to her wild sobbing, then unable to bear the sound, I closed the door and made my way unsteadily back to my office.

The noise of the hurricane beat against my skull. I went to my desk chair and sat down, holding my hands against my ears, feeling as if I were going demented.

I had to do something! I had no alternative now if I wasn’t going to lose her! I had to kill Vidal!

A grinding sound, followed by the sound of splintering wood coming from downstairs brought me to my feet. Then my door slammed open by a violent gust of wind that swept my desk clear of papers, overturned my desk lamp and threw two of my telephones to the floor.

‘Burden!’

Vidal’s voice bawled from below.

I reached the corridor, bracing myself against the wind that roared up the stairs. I started down them, hanging on to the banister rail. I was stunned by the force of the wind which was howling through the open front door.

I could see Vidal and Dyer struggling to get the door closed.

The hall with its big oil paintings and its suits of armour was a shambles. Four of the big pictures had been blown off their hooks, two of the suits of armour were in pieces.

Lying in the middle of the floor was Gesetti, blood on his face, an oil painting in a heavy frame on top of him.

Stepping around him, I struggled across the hall and joined the two men wrestling with the door. With my added weight, we got it shut.

‘Wedge it!’ Vidal snapped. Use one of those pikes.’

Dyer released his hold on the door and dashed to pick up a pike that had fallen from the wall. As soon as his weight was removed, the door slammed open again, sending Vidal and myself sprawling. Another struggle began to shut the door. Not only the wind but the rain hammered us and by the time we got the door shut and jammed into place by the pike we were all soaked.

Gesetti groaned and tried to sit up. Dyer went to him and supported him. I couldn’t touch him. He gave me the horrors.

Vidal joined Dyer and they got Gesetti to his feet. He shook his head, spraying blood, blinked and straightened up.

‘I’m okay, boss,’ he muttered but he leaned heavily on Dyer.

‘I’ll take care of him,’ Vidal said. ‘You two clean up this mess.’

Catching hold of Gesetti he led him down the corridor towards the back of the house.

‘Phew!’ Dyer wiped his dripping face with the back of his hand. ‘Did you bring a change?’

‘Yes.

‘We’ll get out of these wet things and then get this mess fixed. This is the worst goddamn hurricane I’ve run into, and it’ll last for at least another four days.’

We went up the stairs and separated at our rooms. It took me only a few minutes to strip off, dry myself and put on a sweatshirt and slacks. I was down in the hall stacking the oil paintings against the wall when Dyer joined me in an open neck shirt and hipsters.

‘The telephone’s gone,’ he said as we began to carry the bits of armour into a small reception room. ‘The electricity will go any moment now.’

I saw he had a powerful torch stuck in his belt.

Vidal appeared, still dripping.

‘How is he, sir?’ Dyer asked as Vidal started up the stairs.

‘Not so good... concussion I guess.’ Vidal paused. ‘How are you enjoying yourself Burden?’ He gave his barking laugh. ‘A bit of a change from Boston, huh?’

I stood silent, hating him.

He turned to Dyer.

‘I’ve told him to stay in bed. Let him be. I’ve given him a couple of pills. With luck he’ll be all right tomorrow. You’d better take care of the supper. You help him Burden.’ He started up the stairs two at a time and disappeared along the corridor.

I looked at my watch. The time was 17.50. The afternoon seemed to be going on forever.

‘Let’s finish this, then we’ll inspect the kitchen,’ Dyer said. ‘I could do with a drink, couldn’t you?’

It took us only a few minutes to complete what we had begun, then we went along to the kitchen.

Dyer inspected the big refrigerator.

‘Plenty of cold cuts.’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Cans galore at least we won’t starve.’

Going to another cupboard, he found the liquor store.

‘Whisky?’

‘I guess.’

He built two big whiskies, added ice and saluted me.

While all this was going on the rain and the wind lashed the house and thunder crashed. The noise was infernal.

I felt steadier after the drink. My mind kept going to Val.

‘While we have the light,’ Dyer said when he had finished his drink, ‘suppose we check the doors and windows. We don’t want another blow in like that one.’

We found one of the doors leading to the garden unsafe.

Dyer found wood, hammer and nails and we shored up the door. By the time we had checked the windows and repaired three of them it was getting on for 19.00.

‘I’m hungry,’ Dyer said. ‘Feel like eating?’

‘No... I’ll have another drink though.’

While I was fixing the drinks. Dyer made himself a beef sandwich.

‘How about Mrs. Vidal?’ he asked with his mouth full. ‘Maybe she wants something.’

‘You finish that. I’ll go up and ask her.’

Feeling light headed after the two big whiskies, I mounted the stairs and started down the corridor. Then I paused. Vidal was coming out of Val’s room. He had changed into a scarlet open neck shirt and white slacks. Humming under his breath, he closed and locked the door. Leaving the key in the lock he started towards me, his little eyes narrowing.

‘Yes, Burden?’

‘I... I was wondering if Mrs. Vidal would like some supper,’ I said.

‘Very thoughtful. No... we’ll let her be for a while, she is being a little dramatic.’ He laughed. ‘I find it is better to leave women alone when they become tiresome. Women dislike being ignored.’ He took hold of my arm. His fingers felt like steel hooks. ‘Suppose you get me something Burden, if it is not too much trouble... a few sandwiches and lots of coffee.’ He steered me to the head of the stairs. ‘Put it in my office, will you?’

I jerked away from his grip. His touch was to me the touch of a leper

He smiled.

‘Don’t worry about Mrs. Vidal, Burden. I have a little spare time now, so I will do the worrying should it be necessary.’

He stared at me, his eyes hostile, then moving into his bedroom, he closed the door gently in my face.

‘Hi Burden!’

I looked down the well of the staircase. Dyer was beckoning to me.

‘What is it?’ I was in no mood for his company.

‘Come on down.’

No excuse came to my mind, so reluctantly I descended the stairs. He moved back into the kitchen.

‘Does she want anything?’ he asked as I followed him into the kitchen.

‘Vidal says no.’ I couldn’t disguise the bitterness in my voice. ‘He’s locked her in.’

‘He treats her like a puppet.’ Dyer shrugged. ‘Never mind about her Burden. You and I have problems. Shut the door and keep your voice down.’

I looked sharply at him. There was a worried, uneasy expression on his face. As I closed the door, he began to build two whiskies.

‘Vidal wants food,’ I said.

‘It’s all fixed. Are you sure you don’t want anything?’

‘Nothing. What problems?’

He lifted his hand while he listened.

‘He’s coming down now. I’ll take him his supper. Then we can talk.’

Picking up a tray of sandwiches and a jug of coffee, he left the kitchen. I moved around restlessly, nursing the whisky until he returned. He shut the door.

‘We’re off duty,’ he said. ‘Orders not to be disturbed.’ He came close to me and keeping his voice low, he asked, ‘How are you fixed Burden, if you lost your job?’

I stared at him blankly.

‘All right. I can go back to the A.T.S. Do you think I’m going to lose it?’

‘It’s more than likely. I’ll lose mine too and I haven’t a job waiting for me.’

‘What makes you think we’re going to lose our jobs?’

‘Strictly between you and me, old boy, Tiny’s in real trouble. While he was upstairs with Mrs. V. I went into his office with some papers he wanted. On his desk was a letter from Jason Shackman, his attorney: a tip off that the Feds are on to him for tax evasion and they’re applying for a warrant. Shackman says he hasn’t a hope and he had better get out and fast. He has a bolt hole in Lima. They couldn’t get at him there, but who the hell wants to live in Lima?’

‘He’s booked an air taxi to San Salvador.’

Dyer pulled a face.

‘There goes my job. He hasn’t a lot of money. He...’

‘But he’s worth millions!’ I broke in.

Dyer shook his head.

‘He had millions but not now. He was crazy enough to have financed a deal with the Libyans and they took him to the cleaners.’ He glanced uneasily at the kitchen door. ‘This is strictly confidential, old boy. I shouldn’t be telling you this. He owes the tax people a hell of a sum. He’s in real trouble. Know what I think? After living the way he has — the best of everything — Lima could be his end.’

‘What do you mean?’ I was now listening intently.

‘It would never surprise me if he put a bullet through his head. Tiny’s a bit unbalanced. He’s fine when he’s living it up, but yellow when the crunch comes. I could be wrong, but that’s my bet.’

I thought about this, then shook my head.

‘I can’t imagine him killing himself,’ I said. ‘No... not Vidal.’

Dyer shrugged.

‘You don’t know him as I do. You could be right, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his nerve broke and he opted for out.’ He finished his drink. ‘I thought I’d tell you what’s in the wind. I’ve always had a feeling my job was too good to last.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘I’ve managed to put a little money by for the rainy day, but not much.’

I was only half listening to what he was saying. A sudden idea was growing in my mind.

‘Well, I guess I’ll go up. I have some thinking to do.’ Dyer moved to the door. ‘We should be all right tonight... touch wood. If you hear anything alarming come running. See you,’ and he left me.

I stood for some minutes, listening to the storm raging outside, then picking up the bottle of whisky and taking my glass I walked quietly up the stairs and into my office. As I put the bottle and glass on my desk, the lights in the room flickered and went out.

The torch Dyer had left was right by my hand. I groped for it, found it and switched it on. I went quickly into the corridor. Vidal came bouncing up the stairs, torch in hand.

‘All right Burden,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of Mrs. Vidal. You take care of yourself.’

Dyer’s door opened and he came to the doorway, holding a hurricane lamp.

‘I’ll take that,’ Vidal said, taking the lamp from Dyer. ‘Go down and light my lamps, will you?’ He went on to Val’s door, unlocked it and entered, leaving the door ajar.

‘It’s a wonder the lights haven’t gone before this,’ Dyer said and using his torch, he hurried down the stairs to Vidal’s office.

I stood looking down the corridor at Val’s door, feeling a surge of bitter frustration that Vidal had gone to her and not I.

‘There is nothing to be alarmed about, Valerie,’ I heard Vidal say curtly. ‘Here’s a light. Perhaps you had better go to bed instead of sitting there and please no more dramatics.’

I heard Val stifle a sob. The sound was like a knife thrust to me.

‘Please stop snivelling,’ Vidal said impatiently. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

‘Leave me alone.’ Her voice was low and muffled.

‘Please yourself.’ He backed out of the room. I hurriedly stepped into my office and stood out of sight until I heard him go down the stairs. Then I moved out into the corridor as Dyer came up.

‘I’ll turn in,’ he said, ‘not that anyone can sleep in this infernal racket.’

‘Have you looked at Gesetti?’ I asked.

‘No. I’ve forgotten about him. Maybe I’d better take a look.’

‘I’ll go. Where is he?’

‘Fourth door on the lower corridor. See you,’ and he went into his bedroom.

I stood listening, but only the sound of the screaming wind and the rain came to me. I braced myself and went silently down the stairs, past Vidal’s door, along the corridor until I reached Gesetti’s door. I listened. Gesetti was snoring: a massive, grunting noise a pig would make. I looked up and down the corridor, turned the handle and peered into the darkness. Then screening the bulb with my fingers, I directed the beam of the torch on to the bed.

Gesetti lay on his back, the sheet up to his chin, a big piece of plaster on his forehead. He slept, his mouth open, his snores reverberating around the room.

Satisfied I had nothing to fear from him, I closed the door and returned to my office. I lit the hurricane lamp and sat at my desk.

The foolproof plan to kill Vidal which had up to now completely eluded me was now clear in my mind. Both Val and Dyer had unwittingly presented it to me.

Without their information the idea would never have occurred to me. How simple it was!

The facts were that Vidal was ruined, a warrant for his arrest was imminent, he had lost his millions and he was faced with exile in Lima.

Those were incontestable facts that would stand up under police scrutiny.

To these facts add the noise of the hurricane, his hopeless future and the fear of prison and you had the motive that had driven him in a fit of depression to shoot himself.

Surely this combination of facts would convince the police to accept his death as suicide?

I paused to think about this carefully.

Dyer would be the perfect witness. He would tell the police about Vidal’s financial position. He would express no surprise that Vidal had taken the easy way out. I wouldn’t even come into the investigation. As a new member of the staff I wouldn’t be expected to know anything about Vidal’s affairs.

It seemed to me that this part of the plan must be foolproof.

I poured whisky into the glass and drank in two gulps. My heart was hammering and there was sweat on my face. Now the air conditioning was no longer functioning the room was beginning to get oppressively stuffy. The sound of the raging storm gave me a frightening sensation of being trapped in an enormous drum on which some lunatic was beating.

The one man I feared was soundly asleep. Had Gesetti been prowling around the house instead of being in bed in a drugged sleep, I knew I wouldn’t have had the courage to move on to the next step of the plan.

Vidal was in his office, alone.

When Val had begged me to shoot her she had said, No one will hear the shot in the storm! You will be safe, darling. No one would suspect you.

Yes! No one would suspect me!

I would go down silently to his office and walk in. The room would be in semi-darkness. I would have the gun in my hand by my side, out of his sight. I would say I wanted to talk to him about Val. He would irritably dismiss me. While I was trying to persuade him to listen to me I would move close to him, then jerking up the gun, I would shoot him through the head.

I could do it! I had to do it! No one would suspect me! It would appear he had killed himself rather than go to prison.

Why wait?

Dyer was in bed. Gesetti was sleeping. There could be no better moment. The screaming wind and the noise of falling trees would blot out the sound of the shot.

I thought of Val, sobbing and alone.

It would be over in a few minutes and she would be free. When the police investigation was over, we would be together. She and I! After six years of waiting!

I got to my feet and started to the door, then stopped.

The gun!

I walked unsteadily to the desk, pulled open the drawer and took out my brief case. Its flabby emptiness turned me cold. Throwing the brief case aside with my heart hammering. I peered into the drawer.

A tremendous clap of thunder shook the house.

The drawer was empty!

The gun was gone!