Consider Yourself Dead

Three

Catching the last rays of the sun, Gina Grandi lay on a lounging chair, and stared across the big, lonely swimming pool.

She was wearing an emerald green bikini which went well with her Venetian red hair. Her heart shaped face was expressionless. Her body, heavily sun tanned, was well proportioned: her breasts a little heavy, her hips rounded and solid, her legs long and slim.

She spent most of her days thinking back into the past when she had been the toast of Rome’s Dolce Vita. Because of this stupid kidnap attempt, she was confined behind an electrified fence, and she had no idea when her father would relent.

How she hated her father!

For the thousandth time she thought of that disastrous night when she was getting into her Lamborghini, and four men had suddenly surrounded her, guns in hands.

She had been dining at one of the fashionable cellar clubs with a party she had found boring. She had excused herself, leaving them half drunk and shouting. As she was unlocking her car, these four men appeared out of the darkness. They were all young, thin, dressed in shabby jeans and leather jackets. They were all bearded and, to her, excitingly dirty looking.

She immediately realised they intended to kidnap her. The realisation sent a sensual wave through her body. To get away from the boredom of luxury, to be hidden in some sleazy apartment, to be raped even, was something she had realised, with a slight sense of shock, she had been subconsciously yearning to happen.

But how stupid and incompetent these four had been! They had been waiting outside the club, all hoping for millions, but without a plan in their retarded minds. Their furtive movements had attracted the attention of two alert policemen who had taken cover behind a car and had watched them.

Kidnapping in Italy was rife, and every policeman had been instructed to watch for any suspicious action.

As the four young men surrounded Gina, she had smiled at them, unafraid of the guns in their hands. Her heart began to pound with excitement.

‘Come with us,’ the tallest of the four had said. ‘This is a snatch!’

Then out of the darkness, a voice barked, ‘Police! Drop those guns!’

The tall youth, who could not have been more than eighteen years of age, swung around and fired.

The policeman who had moved out from behind the car was hit, but before dropping, he shot the youth, killing him.

There was an immediate panic among the other three. They turned to run. The other policeman, shielding himself behind the car, his gun hand on the roof of the car, picked off two of the youths as they ran. The fourth youth, short, thickset, had dodged behind the Lamborghini. He caught sight of the policeman’s head. Standing up, he fired as the policeman fired. Both shots were killers.

Gina had stood motionless during the gun battle. She was still standing, staring at the six bodies as her friends spilled out of the club and press photographers appeared from nowhere. While standing amidst the screams, popping flashlights and seeping blood, she had a sick feeling that something very special in her life had been snatched away from her.

The publicity had been worldwide. Every newspaper carried a front-page photograph of her, surrounded by bodies. The snide papers had underlined that she had just left a club which had an unsavoury reputation: the haunt of gay men, reefer smokers and kinky women.

When her father heard what had happened and had read the reports in the papers, he took instant action.

Carlo Grandi was a ruthless tycoon who had fought his way up from a Naples slum to being the richest man in Italy. He spent every hour of his waking life controlling his vast financial kingdom. His wife, bored and lonely, scarcely ever seeing her husband, had had an affair with a playboy whom she had met at a party, given by one of her women friends. The playboy had tried to blackmail her. Terrified of her husband, sick of her empty, rich life and sick of herself, she drank a bottle of vodka, swallowed sleeping pills and died. Grandi returning from a business trip, found her with a sad little note that read: Forgive me, Carlo. Your standards were too high. The suicide had been hushed up. Gina, then seventeen years of age, was at a Swiss finishing school. She had a cable from her father which read: Mother died. Heart attack. Coming to see you.

Grandi arrived at the Montreux school. Gina had little love for her mother and none for her father. She knew he was far too occupied to have much interest in her, and she knew he was a man incapable of affection. When he said that she should stay at the school for another year, she agreed.

At the end of the year, she arrived in Rome. Grandi was far too occupied to give her any attention. He gave her a generous allowance, made her a member of various high-class clubs, checked to see that she had amusing and well born friends, then left her to her own devices. Every month, he arranged to take her to a stately, dull dinner at Alfredo’s. When he had time to think of her, he imagined she was thoroughly enjoying herself, and was behaving as the daughter of the richest man in Italy should behave herself.

When he read of the kidnapping and about the club, he flew into a towering rage. He had her locked in one of the upper guest rooms, and called for an inquiry to be made of her past activities. A discreet detective agency produced a report that Grandi could scarcely believe. She had not only been behaving like a whore, but was on drugs. There was also a serious possibility now of further kidnap attempts.

Grandi decided to remove Gina from the Italian scene. One of his aides found Orchid villa and Grandi rented it. The electrified fence was installed and all the security gimmicks, and within a month, Gina was taken there by her father and Frenzi Amando.

Gina was too awed by her father’s fury to think of protesting. She had no idea who Amando was, but she hated the sight of him.

Before leaving her to return to Rome, Grandi talked to her.

‘You have behaved disgracefully,’ he said. ‘You will remain here until I decide when you are fit to mix with decent people. If, at the end of a year, I get a good report about you, I will then consider giving you supervised freedom. You have betrayed my trust in you, and no one does that without bitterly regretting it.’

Gina moved uneasily. How she hated her father! To have done this to her! To have her caged behind an electrified fence, to have this cold blooded, snake of a man as her custodian! This man continually watched her. She could feel his eyes on her now. He was probably watching her from one of the upper windows of the villa.

Although, from time to time, she missed drugs, she really suffered from the lack of lovers. Sex tormented her day and night.

Apart from the servants who scarcely spoke to her, there was this tough ex-cop who had as much sex in him as the gun on his hip. The other guard was revoltingly fat and he had a hairy wart on his nose. She was sure he was a voyeur. He was always watching her from behind shrubs, giving her leering smiles, his little eyes stripping her.

The one saving grace of this gilded cage was Suka, the Japanese general factotum who ran the villa. Although he was inscrutable, she sensed that he was sorry for her. It was Suka, as he was serving her tea, who told her that the guard Joe had been caught by Amando sleeping and had been dismissed.

‘There is a new guard, signorina,’ Suka said, and went away.

A new guard? Gina stretched her long legs. She knew better than to ask details. Suka was very careful about his relations with her. Both of them were aware that Amando could be watching.

Could this new guard be interesting? she wondered. God! How she needed an interesting man!

Her mind wandered back to those marvellous, erotic nights in Rome when she had so often shared a vast bed with two young, rich stags who took her, turn and turnabout.

She was releasing a soft moan as she relived those exciting moments when she heard a gentle cough that made her open her eyes and half start up.

Suka was standing at her side, holding a tray on which stood a glass of tomato juice: she was forbidden any kind of alcoholic drink. As he placed the glass on the table, he said softly, without looking at her, ‘Signor Amando goes to Frisco. Not back until tomorrow. Very important dinner.’ He left her.

Gina drew in a deep breath. The new guard would be on duty! For the first time in days, she smiled.

Although the fried chicken looked excellent, Frost found he had no appetite. He pushed the food around on his plate, aware that Marvin was eating hungrily.

Since returning to the Grandi villa, Frost’s mind had been in turmoil. He was in the hole for four thousand dollars! He had no possible hope of paying this sharpshooting sonofabitch and he felt in his bones that Silk would insist on payment. He remembered his words: I don’t take on a match with a piker! There seemed to be no solution except to throw up his job and get out of Paradise City. What a sucker he had been!

‘Something bothering you, Mike?’ Marvin asked as he pushed aside his empty plate.

‘I’m fine... just not hungry.’ Frost stood up. ‘I guess I ate too much for lunch.’ He looked at his strap watch. ‘You signing off?’

‘Yeah. There’s a good movie on the tube. Watch out for Old Creepy,’ then nodding, he left the guardroom.

Frost stacked the plates on the tray, and put the tray on a chair by the door. Then lighting a cigarette, he slumped down in the armchair, facing the TV monitors. Would Marcia get him out of this hole? he wondered. He decided she wouldn’t. He couldn’t imagine her giving him four thousand dollars to settle a crazy bet. That he couldn’t imagine! There was something about Silk that made Frost uneasy. Silk looked the kind of vicious bastard who would alert a tough debt collecting service, and if Frost failed to pay up, he would get cornered one night by an experienced gang who could break both his arms. He knew all about the collection-of-debts-service. The only solution was to throw up this sweet job and return to New York.

He heard the door open behind him and he looked around. Suka was collecting the tray.

‘Signor Amando has left for Frisco,’ Suka murmured. ‘He returns tomorrow,’ and he went out, shutting the door.

Frost shrugged. Now that he would be forced to leave. Paradise City, Amando could get screwed for all he cared. The drag was that by leaving after only two nights of duty, he wouldn’t get paid. His money was running dangerously low. By the time he had paid for his air ticket to New York, he would have very little left. What the hell was he going to do in New York anyway? He had already looked for a job there, and nothing had come up. For the first time since he had left the Army, Frost began to be worried.

He was still worrying, staring at the monitors, when he heard a sound behind him. His hands dropped on to his gun butt as he got to his feet and he swung around in one swift movement.

A girl stood in the doorway, smiling at him.

Gina had watched Amando drive away in the Rolls, then she had taken a shower, hesitated before her vast wardrobe, then selected an emerald green cocktail dress that fitted snugly, revealing her curves: a dress she hadn’t worn since leaving Rome. The dress could be unzipped for immediate action, and when going to a party, immediate action was what she wanted.

Frost’s eyes opened wide as he looked at her. He guessed she was Gina Grandi. He hadn’t expected her to be so spectacularly exciting. As his experienced eyes ran over her compact body, he knew she was naked under the dress.

‘Hi!’ she said. ‘You’re the new guard.’

Frost felt lust stir in him.

‘Mike Frost,’ he said. ‘I know who you are.’

Gina regarded him. What a beautiful hunk of man! she thought, and moved into the room, closing the door behind her.

‘Do you like the job... Mike?’

He scarcely heard what she was saying. He knew for sure that she could be taken. His experience with women over the years had taught him to know the signs, and the green light was flashing.

‘I like it a lot better now,’ he said. He didn’t hesitate. What had he to lose? He walked to her while she stood, waiting, and when he reached her, she slid her arms around his neck and thrust her body hard against his. His lips came down on hers and her tongue darted. They stood, straining against each other for a long moment, then she pushed him away, smiling at him.

‘Let’s have fun, Mike. Not here... in my room.’

Holding his wrist, she pulled him into the big lobby and up the broad stairs, along a corridor and into her spacious bedroom.

She was naked and lying across the bed as Frost shut the door.

Frost came awake as the clock downstairs chimed two. Hard, white moonlight came through the big window and lit up the bed. He looked down at the sleeping girl at his side. A beauty, he thought, what a beauty! He lay back on the pillow and stretched his long legs, then he thought of Silk. He felt vicious hatred run through him. If it hadn’t been for that crazy bet, he would be home and dry, but now he would be leaving as soon as Marvin took over the guard duty. He would be leaving this sweet job, and worst still, leaving this little nympho who had given herself to him with abandoned savageness. His right shoulder was still bleeding slightly where she had bitten him. His loins ached. He felt as if he had been fed through a rock crusher.

He turned on his side and regarded the girl, lit by the moonlight. As he was admiring her, her eyes opened, and she stretched like a sleek, beautiful cat.

Then it was her turn to regard him. What a man! she thought, and her mind became busy to find the solution as to how they could have many more nights like this. That sonofabitch Amando! This was the first time he had left the villa — after nearly four months! When would he go again? She wanted and needed this hunk of male excitement, lying by her side, every night!

‘Hi,’ Frost said.

She slid her arms around him and rolled over on top of him. She began to nibble at his lips, but Frost was drained. Marcia had practically demolished him, and now Gina’s fierce lovemaking had reduced him to nothing. Firmly, he pushed her away.

‘That’s it, baby,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get back to work. This is hello and goodbye. Tomorrow, I’m quitting.’

She stared at him, then sat up.

‘Quitting? What do you mean?’

Frost swung his legs off the bed.

‘I’m throwing up this job.’ He stood up, flexing his muscles, then began to dress.

Gina stared at him in dismay, regarding his lean brown body and his muscles.

‘Mike! What are you saying? Why are you leaving?’

He zipped up his trousers, then sat on the bed.

‘I’m leaving because I’ve been taken for a sucker,’ then he went on to tell her about the shooting match and about Silk. ‘I now owe this jerk four thousand bucks,’ he concluded. ‘There’s no way I can pay him. So... I have to get out of town before he puts on the squeeze.’

She caught hold of his hand.

‘You must be kidding, Mike! Four thousand? That’s nothing!’

‘That’s your thinking. To me, that kind of money is a lump. I’m getting out or else I’ll land up with a broken arm.’

‘A broken arm? What are you saying?’

He gave her a wry grin.

‘Forget it, baby. This isn’t your scene. I’m quitting tomorrow.’ He stood up. ‘So long, baby, and thanks.’

‘Mike!’ Her voice was shrill.

He paused at the door.

‘Wait!’

She scrambled off the bed, ran to a big closet, jerked open the door and fumbled in a drawer, then she swung around and came to him, smiling.

‘Here, take it! It’s worth at least twenty thousand. My fink of a father gave it to me for my birthday,’ and she dropped a diamond and emerald ring into his hand. ‘Hock it, Mike. Pay off this jerk. I couldn’t care less about the ring.

Frost stared at the ring, hesitated, then grinned. Why not? Here was the solution to get Silk off his back and to keep this job. What did a ring like this mean to this corrupt, little nympho?

‘You really mean you want to bail me out, baby?’ he said, dropping the ring into his pocket.

‘I want you to stay here,’ she said breathlessly, and put her arms around his neck, thrusting her body against his. ‘I want many more nights.’

‘Okay.’ Frost slid his hands down her naked back and pulled her closer. ‘I’ll fix it.’ Then pushing her away, he left the room and ran silently down the stairs and into the guardroom.

He came to an abrupt standstill as he saw Suka sitting in the armchair, facing the monitors. Hearing him, Suka got to his feet, his face expressionless, and moved by Frost.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Frost demanded.

‘Guarding,’ Suka said, and went out of the room.

Frost stared after him, frowning, then shrugged. He dropped into the armchair, and taking out the ring Gina had given him, he examined it. Twenty thousand! Well, for God’s sake!

When Marvin relieved him at 08.00, Frost went to his cabin and slept for four hours, then after a sandwich lunch, completely forgetting he had a date with Marcia at the Spanish Bay hotel at midday, he drove to Paradise City, unaware that a cream-coloured Mercedes, driven by a swarthy, fat man wearing sun goggles, had moved after him.

Mitch Goble had been waiting in a parking bay within sight of the guard barrier leading to Paradise Largo since 09.00, waiting for Frost to appear. He had spent the three-hour wait reading a ‘girlie’ magazine. He was a man of infinite patience, also a man with a gross appetite. He had with him a paper sack of cheeseburgers, and from time to time, he dipped into the sack.

Frost found a hockshop on Seaview Boulevard.

He had his glib story ready.

‘My wife and I are parting,’ he said to the thin, Jewish clerk who was standing behind the counter. ‘We need fast money.’ He put the ring on the counter. ‘I paid I twenty thousand for this.’

The clerk examined the ring, sighed, said it was worth only fifteen thousand, and he would lend six for three months.

Frost was in no mood to haggle. After all, it wasn’t his ring. He took the money and the ticket, and as he walked back to where he had parked the T.R., he remembered his date with Marcia. The time now was 13.25. He decided she had probably gone to the restaurant. He couldn’t imagine she would wait around for any man, so he headed for the restaurant.

Mitch Goble walked into the hockshop.

‘Hi, Issy,’ he said. ‘What gives with that guy who’s just left?’

Issy, who was terrified of Goble, produced the ring.

‘He’s hocked it for six. It’s worth at least thirty.’

Goble examined the ring, grunted, then handed it back.

‘Keep your nose clean, Jew-boy,’ he said, and leaving the shop, he shut himself in a telephone booth. He called Silk.

‘Our creep has just hocked a thirty thousand diamond and emerald ring for six grand,’ he told Silk. ‘He’s heading your way.’

‘Take time off, Mitch,’ Silk said, and he hung up.

After waiting until half past twelve, Marcia had telephoned Silk from her hotel.

‘He hasn’t shown,’ she said. ‘So what do I do?’

‘Come over here,’ Silk said. ‘No problem.’

When Frost walked into the restaurant, he was met by Ross Umney who had been told by Silk to look out for him.

‘Hi, Mike!’ Umney said with his wide, friendly smile. ‘Marcia’s just arrived. She’s asking for you.’

‘I’ve got business,’ Frost said curtly. ‘Is Silk around?’

‘Sure... down in the shooting gallery.’

Shoving past Umney, Frost took the elevator down to the basement. He found Silk talking to Moses. As soon as Moses saw Frost, he moved away and began busying himself cleaning guns.

Frost planted himself before Silk.

‘I owe you four,’ he said, and taking out his wallet, he extracted four one thousand dollar bills and thrust them at Silk.

‘No you don’t friend,’ Silk said, and his thin lips moved into what could be taken for a smile. ‘We got our lines crossed. That stupid hunkhead, Ross, should have told me. How was I to know you are a friend of my niece?’

Frost stared at him.

‘Your niece?’

‘Yeah... Marcia. When she heard I’d taken you for a ride, she beat the ears off me.’ He laughed. ‘I apologise, Mike. I didn’t know you’re one of us. You owe me nothing.’

Frost felt a rush of blood to his head.

‘We made a bet. I don’t give a damn who you are. I pay my debts!’

Silk continued to smile.

‘Take it easy, friend,’ he said. ‘I run a racket here. I shoot for a living. I con suckers, but not friends. I apologise. Okay?’

Frost hesitated, then relaxed.

‘You sure can shoot. Okay.’

Silk nodded.

‘We fast buck folk are all in some racket,’ he said, and taking out a pack of cigarettes, he offered it. ‘Marcia tells me you’re guarding the Grandi babe.’ He laughed. ‘Some racket! Some babe!’

Frost grinned. He was so relieved that he hadn’t to part with four thousand dollars, his previous assessment that Silk could be dangerous began to fade. Also he liked Silk’s remark about ‘fast buck folk.’ That’s what he was: hunting for the fast buck.

‘That’s a fact,’ he said. ‘Well, it’s a job.’ He put the bills back into his wallet. A thought dropped into his mind. He would tell Gina he had paid his debt, give her I two thousand and the hock ticket, and keep the four thousand for himself.

A heavily built man came out of the elevator and moved towards Silk.

‘Hi, Lu,’ he said. ‘You want a little bet?’

Silk went into his senile act.

‘You bet too high for me, Mr. Lewishon.’

‘Aw, come on! Four to one with target rifles.’

Frost headed for the elevator. Some racket! he thought. What the hell was he doing, sitting in a guardroom at six hundred a week! He was sure Silk would be picking up four thousand in the next half hour!

Ross Umney was hanging around the elevator as Frost reached the restaurant floor.

‘You want to eat, Mike?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already eaten. Where’s Marcia?’

‘Tied up right now.’ Umney leered. ‘A girl has to work. I want you to meet a good friend of mine. He’s got influence.’

Umney linked his arm into Frost’s arm and led him down a corridor, opened a door and led him into a small room where Mitch Goble was waiting.

Goble was chewing his way through a vast hamburger. He wiped his fat fingers on a serviette, got to his feet, and beamed at Frost.

‘Mitch, I want you to meet a good friend of Marcia’s,’ Umney said. ‘Mike Frost.’

Goble extended his hand.

‘A pleasure, Mike. I’ve heard about you... you’re one of us people.’

They all sat down at the table.

‘Have a drink?’ Umney said and snapped his fingers.

A waiter appeared.

‘Scotch?’ Umney asked, looking at Frost who nodded. Frost was regarding Goble, unable to place him. His clothes were casual but expensive. His fat, swarthy face wasn’t prepossessing, and, Frost thought, the genial smile could be a front.

‘How are you liking this little city?’ Goble asked.

‘Fine.’

‘Yeah... you’ve got yourself a sweet location,’ Goble went on. ‘The Grandi’s pad must be quite something. You like it?’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ Frost had a feeling that Goble was probing. During his service with the N.Y. cops, he had often run into men like Goble: smooth, dangerous operators. He decided to do some probing himself. ‘What’s your racket?’

The waiter arrived with the drinks, then he whispered something to Umney who scowled.

‘Always something in this joint. Have to leave you boys. There’s a creep who is moaning.’ He tossed off his drink, patted Frost on his shoulder, said, ‘Mitch’ll look after you,’ and he left.

Frost remembered the same performance when Umney had left him alone with Silk. He became very alert.

‘My racket?’ Goble said, and cut himself another hunk off his hamburger. ‘I set up operations. Some guy comes to me and says he has an idea to make dough, what do I think about it? I look at the operation and tell him yes or no. Call me the outside man looking in.’

‘Is that right?’ Frost sipped his drink. ‘Get you anywhere?’

‘Oh, sure. We fast buck folk squeeze up a living.’ Goble laughed. ‘Marcia tells me you’re taking care of the Grandi babe. Only last week, I had a guy with a nutty idea he could snatch that babe and pick up twenty million dollars. I told him he should get his head examined.’ He paused and stared directly at Frost. ‘Right?’

Frost felt a prickle run up his spine.

‘Right... what?’

Goble paused to finish the hamburger, sighed, then shook his head.

‘No way to snatch the babe,’ he said. ‘Right?’

‘Your guy can try,’ Frost said quietly. ‘He can get himself torn to pieces by four Doberman Pinschers. If the I dogs don’t get him, I will.’

Goble put a surprised look on his face.

‘Dogs, huh? Still, dogs can be taken care of.’ He looked reflective. ‘Twenty million bucks! That’s real bread!’

Twenty million! Frost thought. Yes, Grandi would pay that to get his daughter back.

‘Anyway, Mike, I told this guy to forget it,’ Goble went on. ‘I once had the same idea, and I cased the joint... no way. This wop fink has really taken care of it.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Yeah.’ Goble sipped his drink. ‘Since then I’ve thought about it. There’s no problem that can’t be solved. Twenty million! Bread like that gives me daydreams. Just suppose four smart operators really got together. Suppose they did snatch this babe. That’d be five million each.’

Five million! Frost thought. That kind of money would set him up for life! He kept his expression deadpan as he said, ‘You just said there was no way.’

‘I thought that a couple of months ago,’ Goble said. ‘I keep thinking. It doesn’t hurt me to think.’ He looked at Frost, then said, ‘The Trojan horse.’

Frost frowned.

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘My old man was a nut about Greek history.’ Goble said. ‘He bent my ears with all this gaff about the Greeks. There was a fink called Ulysses. The Greeks were besieging the Trojans and getting nowhere. This fink made a big wooden horse and he put soldiers in it and he kidded the Trojans they would be sitting pretty if the horse was put in the city. The jerks fell for it. The soldiers spilled out at night and opened the gates and the Trojans got skewered. To snatch this babe I’d want a Trojan horse... an inside man: maybe one of the staff. They have ten people keeping that joint running. Maybe one of them could be got at.’ He shrugged. ‘I think. It’s my job. Could be I also need my head examined.’

Frost stared at him. Was he being propositioned? Five million! He had come to Paradise City to make money, but to date, he had only landed a job for six hundred a week... chick-feed! Goble had said, ‘Maybe one of the staff could be got at.’ That was a direct hint. Frost, looking at the fat man, was now sure he was being propositioned. This was something he needed to think about. Play hard to get, he told himself, as he got to his feet.

‘Yeah... get your head examined,’ he said curtly, and walked out, leaving his drink untouched.

Goble finished his drink, then reached for the drink Frost had left. Silk came silently into the room, closed the door and sat at the table. He had been listening to the conversation that had been relayed to him by a hidden microphone.

‘Nice work, Mitch,’ he said. ‘You handled it just right.’

Goble nodded.

‘So what now?’

‘We’ll give him time to think. He’s a real fast worker. Hot pants gave him the ring — unless he stole it, but I don’t dig that. Amando was away for the night. She wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like that. My guess is he screwed her, told her he was in the hole for four thousand, and to keep him, she gave him the ring.’ Silk rubbed his bony hands together. ‘It’s moving our way, Mitch. We wait.’

Goble stared thoughtfully at Silk.

‘Don’t take this guy for a sucker, Lu. I’ve a feeling he could be tricky.’

Silk allowed a wintry smile to crease his face.

‘I can be tricky too,’ he said.

Five million dollars!

Frost had driven away from the restaurant and down to the beach. He had found himself an isolated spot under the shade of a palm tree, and had sat down on the sand to think.

The photo swam slowly into focus. The setup had begun with his chance meeting with Marcia — Silk’s niece. Probably, she had been told to look out for a likely stooge. Probably, Silk had got inside information that the second guard wouldn’t last long, so he had planned ahead. Maybe, Joe Solomon was working with Silk. He (Frost) must have seemed to Silk to be a gift from heaven.

The Trojan horse!

Silk had been smart enough to know there was no way of snatching Gina without an inside man, so he had picked on him.

Frost dug his fingers into the hot sand while he thought.

Five million dollars! Suppose he played along? Suppose Silk had a safe, working plan? Frost’s eyes narrowed as he thought. Goble had talked of a fourth man — Umney? A four way split — five million dollars each. What he couldn’t do with bread like that! Frost’s thinking switched to Marvin. Suppose Gina was snatched? Would Grandi scream for the cops? Thinking about this, Frost decided he wouldn’t. He would pay up, but Marvin, shrewd ex-cop as he was, would know there had to be an inside man, and he would point a finger at Frost.

It was one thing to snatch the girl, but something else besides, to get the ransom. When the ransom was paid and Gina returned, the heat would be on. Frost grimaced. He would be suspect number one. Silk must know this.

Frost let sand trickle through his fingers.

He wouldn’t be Silk’s stooge. If he was caught, he certainly wouldn’t let Silk go free to spend the ransom. He would talk his head off, and Silk must know this.

Frost rubbed his hand over his sweating face. If he decided to act as the inside man, the snatch wouldn’t be too difficult, but collecting and spending the ransom seemed to him, to be impossible.

He thought some more, but couldn’t find a solution. He felt sure that Silk wouldn’t stick his neck out unless he had a foolproof plan. What was it?

For the next half hour, Frost sat staring at the glittering sea, his mind busy. Then, with a sudden nod of his head, he made his decision. He would pretend to play along with Silk, listen to Silk’s plan, examine it, then opt out or opt in, depending how convincing Silk was.

As he got to his feet, he looked at his watch. The time was 15.15. He had five hours to kill before returning to the Grandi residence. He wondered if he should return to the Ace of Spades and see Marcia. He shook his head: play hard to get. He decided to take a closer look at Paradise City, and walked to where he had parked his car.

Five million dollars!

He kept thinking of owning such a sum. His mind was so occupied with visions of how he would spend money like that, he failed to observe a lean, tall youth with long greasy hair, a face like a ferret’s, wearing a T-shirt and dirty jeans, swing his leg over a powerful Honda motorcycle and come after him as Frost drove on to the highway and headed for the city.

This youth, known as Hi-Fi, worked for Mitch Goble. He was a heroin addict. Goble kept him supplied with just enough money to buy his next fix. Goble had told him to keep tracks on Frost and never let him out of his sight.

Still thinking about a possible future, Frost drove into Paradise City and parked the T.R. outside an amusement arcade. Leaving the car, he wandered into the arcade which was humming with activity. Crowds of young people jostled around spending their dimes, eating hot dogs, screaming at each other.

Frost jostled his way to the shooting range. A fat, smiling Polak handed him a rifle. It was a way to kill time, Frost thought as he settled himself and took aim at the distant target.

Hi-Fi melted into the crowd, his eyes on Frost’s broad back.

Frost had taken the centre of the target out when he heard a voice say, ‘You Frost?’

He lowered the rifle and turned to find a tall, wiry man, with a lined sun-tanned face and clear ice blue eyes at his side.

He knew at once that this man was a cop.

‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

‘Tom Lepski. City police,’ Lepski grinned and offered his hand.

Lepski? Frost’s mind became very alert. He remembered Marvin had said Lepski was a first grade detective, and a good friend of his. It had been Lepski who had told Marvin that Grandi had needed a bodyguard.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Jack mentioned you.’

‘Yeah. He and I are buddies,’ Lepski said. ‘I saw the T.R. out front, so I thought I’d meet you.’

‘Glad you did.’ Frost laid down the rifle. ‘Just amusing myself.’

‘Jack said you were some shot.’ Lepski eyed the distant target. ‘Yeah... you sure are. You got a minute? Suppose we go over to Joe’s across the way for a beer?’

‘Why not?’

As they left the arcade, Hi-Fi went after them. He watched them enter the bar across the street, hesitated, then walked fast to a telephone booth. He called Silk.

‘Our creep is chatting it up with Lepski,’ Hi-Fi reported.

Silk’s face tightened. This was unexpected and bad news. Was Frost alerting the cops that Goble had propositioned him? After a moment’s thought, he decided not. Five million, to a man like Frost, was too big a temptation for him to shoot off his mouth to a cop.

‘Stay with him, but watch it,’ Silk said, and hung up.

Settled at a corner table with beers before them, Lepski said, ‘You’ve got yourself a sweet job.’ He grinned. ‘The City police are right behind Mr. Grandi. He takes care of us, so we take care of him. His daughter stays safe.’

His face expressionless, Frost nodded.

‘So Jack tells me.’

‘Have you met her yet?’

Frost shook his head.

‘Not yet. I’m on night duty this week. All I have to worry about is Amando.’

‘There’s a jerk.’ Lepski grimaced. ‘Nothing satisfies him. He bothers the Chief nearly every week. He has a bee in his nut that the girl is going to get snatched.’ Lepski laughed. ‘How can she? We keep explaining it to him, but he won’t lie down.’

‘It’s his way of earning his money,’ Frost said.

‘I guess that’s right.’ Lepski’s cop eyes swept over Frost. ‘When we heard that Amando had given Joe Davis the gate, and he had reason, we got interested in you.’ There was no smile now on Lepski’s face. ‘We heard you got the job through Joe Solomon. We know all about Joe. He’s not our favourite citizen. So we leaned on Joe and he came up with your credentials. What we learned from them, satisfied us you were right for the job. We checked the N.Y.P.D. and the F.B.I. They gave you a clearance.’ He paused, then went on, ‘There’s this thing that bothers us: you don’t stay long with a job.’ Again a pause, then he said, ‘Maybe you’ve got itchy feet.’

Frost’s mind worked swiftly. So the cops had put him under a microscope. He was too much of a cop himself to be leaned on.

‘Are you asking a question or are you just talking?’ he said quietly.

‘Call it a question.’

Frost smiled.

‘Tell me something, friend, are you asking this question because your Chief told you to ask it or are you just playing cop?’

Lepski stiffened. His Chief had given him no instructions to quiz Frost. He realised he had moved on to tricky ground.

He waved his hand airily.

‘Don’t get me wrong. Let me explain. We don’t want Gina Grandi snatched. Right now, we know she has total protection. There is no way to get at her unless there is an inside man, and if an inside man appears, she could get snatched. We have screened everyone living at the villa: all of them are okay. So you appear on the scene. So we screen you. Get the photo?’

Frost nodded.

‘Sure... sure, but that doesn’t answer my question.’ He finished his beer. ‘Are you interrogating me because you have instructions from your Chief or are you a first grade detective after further promotion?’ He leaned forward, staring at Lepski. ‘I’ve been on the force. I know how it works. I know all about guys who lean on people to get promotion. I did it myself, but nobody leans on me. So you talk to your Chief. Tell him, I’ll tell him anything he wants to know. I have nothing to hide, but I don’t — repeat don’t — get leaned on by a first grade detective.’ He got to his feet. ‘Okay with you, Lepski?’

Lepski stared up at him, then before he could think of anything to say, Frost gave him a broad smile and walked out of the bar.

Hi-Fi was sitting astride his Honda as Frost walked to his car. He gunned the motor and moved into the traffic as Frost drove down the main street.

Frost’s mind was busy. He was uneasy. Had he handled Lepski right? he asked himself. The last thing he wanted was to make an enemy of a cop, but he couldn’t let Lepski lean on him. He shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t important, but what was important was that the cops had reached the same conclusion as Silk had done: to snatch Gina, there had to be an inside man.

Frost drove aimlessly towards Miami. He still had some hours before returning to Villa Orchid. The traffic was light. He kept looking into his rear mirror as good drivers do, and he picked up Hi-Fi tooling along behind him. Hadn’t he seen this creep before? Frost frowned. He remembered seeing him on the deserted beach when Frost had been sitting in the shade, thinking. Now here he was again. Was he being tailed? He grinned. He studied Hi-Fi in the driving mirror: a punk: one of Silk’s stooges?

Reaching Miami, he swung off Bay-shore Avenue and on to S.W. 17th avenue, then turned left on to Miami avenue. The Honda followed him.

So he was being tailed!

Frost doubled back and headed for Paradise City. He was relaxed, humming to himself.

On the outskirts of the city, he left the highway and drove down a sandy road to the beach. Leaving the car, he walked fast to a clump of sea palms, hearing the noise of the Honda as it came down the road.

He dropped out of sight on hands and knees and waited.

He heard the Honda motor die.

Hi-Fi was nervous. Leaving his motorcycle, he walked slowly down the sandy path, sweat on his face. He had been told not to let Frost out of his sight. He knew if he didn’t obey orders his heroin money would stop.

He reached a clearing and looked up and down the wide stretch of deserted beach, then Frost dropped on him, his knees smashing into Hi-Fi’s back, slamming him on to the sand.

Hi-Fi let out a yell as hard, vicious fingers encircled his throat. He tried to struggle, but the fingers tightened.

‘Take it easy, sonny,’ Frost said quietly. ‘Just answer questions. Are you from Silk?’

Hi-Fi wriggled, heaved and tried vainly to throw off the crushing weight that kept him flat on the sand.

‘Don’t act stupid, sonny.’ Frost said and releasing his grip on Hi-Fi’s throat, he grabbed his right wrist and put a lock on it. ‘Talk or I’ll bust your arm.’

Hi-Fi felt the pressure. The pain that shot up his arm nearly made him faint.

‘Are you from Silk?’ Frost asked him.

‘Yeah... yeah. You’re breaking my arm!’ Hi-Fi moaned.

Frost released him and stood up. Hi-Fi lay still, then turned on his back, glaring up at Frost.

‘Don’t try a thing, sonny,’ Frost said. ‘Just go back to Silk and tell him I don’t like being tailed. The next time I spot you following me, I’ll break your arm. Okay?’

They looked at each other. Hi-Fi had often been in the hands of the police. He knew a cop when he saw one.

‘Okay,’ he mumbled, and watched Frost walk back across the sand to where he had left his car.