Like a Hole in the Head

CHAPTER FIVE

Savanto looked up at me as I came towards him. His fat, pockmarked face was expressionless; his stubby fingers stroked his moustache.

Raimundo and Carlo had come out onto the verandah. Raimundo leaned against the door-post. Carlo stood away from him, still picking his teeth with the splinter of wood.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Benson,” Savanto said, “but I must consider the lives of a quarter of a million people… peasants like my father : all struggling to live.”

“You can cut out the crap!” I said. “What do you mean… she won’t be there?”

Raimundo pushed himself away from the door-post, his hands hanging loosely, and he edged towards me.

“Your wife is now under my protection. She is quite safe. Please don’t be anxious, Mr. Benson.”

For a long moment I looked into the flat snake’s eyes. There was sadness on the fat face, but no mercy in the glittering eyes.

“You’ve kidnapped her?” I asked, holding on to myself because I knew, at this moment, control was essential.

“I would prefer to say she has been taken as a hostage.”

Well, I had been warned. Raimundo had told me if I flopped I would be in trouble. I had thought this was an empty threat. Now, I knew differently. I fought down the urge to smash this elderly thug, to turn on Raimundo, to hammer my fists into Carlo’s brutish face.

“Kidnapping carries a long stretch in jail, Savanto,” I said. “Where is she?”

He continued to look at me, then he nodded approvingly.

“Sit down, Mr. Benson,” he said. “I admire the way you are taking this. I expected trouble. If someone had kidnapped my wife, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. I would have done something foolish, but then I am a Latin-American. My blood boils too easily. But you have been a soldier and you have discipline. You know violence will achieve nothing. You tell yourself if you remain calm and listen to what I have to say, you will be able to make a good decision. So sit down, Mr. Benson, and listen to my proposal. After I have made it, you will then be able to decide what to do. You will have two alternatives : either to do what I ask or to try to outwit me. You have the freedom of choice, but I hold the trump card… your wife. For the time being, you need not worry about her. Already, there is a woman with her. Her new home is much better than the home you provided for her. She will have everything she wants, except, of course, her freedom. I have spared no expense to make her comfortable. Please don’t worry about her.”

I thought of Lucy, alone and frightened, as I walked over to the chair and sat down.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m listening.”

Savanto looked at Raimundo and then beyond him at Carlo. He lifted his fat hand in a wave of dismissal. The two men went back into the house.

“Mr. Benson, because you are an expert, I have chosen you to execute Diaz,” Savanto said. “The execution has to be arranged in such a way that my organisation and the Red Dragon organisation will believe that it was my son who fired the shot. Because you are an experienced killer I propose to leave it to you to work out how this is to be done. You have five days. Raimundo and Carlo are at your disposal. They are reliable men. Money is no object. Spend what you please to make the operation successful. When Diaz Savanto is dead, I will pay you two hundred thousand dollars.”

For a long moment I sat thinking.

“Let’s look at the other side of this blackmail coin,” I said. “Suppose I tell you to go to hell?”

He shook his head.

“You won’t, Mr. Benson. I am sure of this because I am a judge of men. I know you are in love with your wife.”

“I want to hear from you what will happen to her if I don’t play.”

He grimaced, then shrugged.

“I come from a primitive tribe of people.” He had now lost his sad look. He sat forward, staring at me as I was staring at him. His snake’s eyes had become deadly. “Look at that symbol… the symbol of the Red Dragon.” He pointed to the wooden upright supporting the verandah. “I’ll send her back to you, Mr. Benson, but she will have that brand on her face if you fail me.”

He had talked of discipline. It needed all the discipline the Army had hammered into me to stop me smashing my fist in his fat, pock-marked face.

I reached for the pack of cigarettes I had left on the table, shook out a cigarette and lit it. I stared across the garden full of weeds at the distant sea.

Savanto watched me and waited.

I let him wait. Finally, I flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the garden.

“So you’re the Chief of the Little Brothers who looks after a quarter of a million peasants,” I said. “You claim to be the father of these people. You claim, because you are getting old, you don’t want to keep your hold on them, but you have to because you can’t find a man as good as you to take your place. So you turn blackmailer, you protect a weakling son who doesn’t want to be protected and you kidnap a girl who has done no harm to anyone and if you don’t get your own, murderous way, you will brand her with the symbol of the organisation you are supposed to be fighting. I wonder what your peasants would think of you if they found out the kind of animal you really are?”

The fat, pock-marked face remained expressionless.

“Go on talking, Mr. Benson. It is always good to get the bile out of one’s system.”

I knew then that nothing I could say would make any difference. I had guessed this as soon as I had returned to the verandah, but I had to make a try. I was wasting time.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll kill him for you, but I’m not taking your money. I walked into this because I thought money was all important. It is important, but not your kind of money. I’ll kill him because I want my wife hack.”

Savanto stroked his moustache.

“Any kind of money is important, Mr. Benson,” he said. “Don’t make a hasty decision about the money. Two hundred thousand dollars would change your way of life.” He levered himself to his feet. “The money will be waiting for you.”

From one of the sheds away from the house the black Cadillac appeared with the chimp-faced driver at the wheel.

“I must go now, Mr. Benson.” He looked directly at me. “I can leave this business safely in your hands?”

I returned his look, hating him.

“Good. I promise your wife will remain safe. Do what I ask and she will return to you unharmed. You can rely on Raimundo. He will help you. He is as anxious as I am that this business is successfully concluded.”

He walked heavily down the steps to the car. He got in and settled himself, then the car drove away down the narrow road. Behind it, like a ghost, followed a spiral of dust.

As I watched the car disappear, Raimundo came out and walking around me, sat down in the chair Savanto had vacated.

He made to take a cigarette from my pack, then paused.

“Mind if I use one of these?”

I was pretty near flash point, but I held on to myself.

“Use your own goddam cigarettes!” I snarled. “Don’t use mine!”

He got up, went into the house and after a moment or so, came back, smoking. He sat down again, putting a pack of Camels near my pack.

We sat there for a long uneasy minute, then he tossed the cigarette over the verandah rail.

“Feel like a fight, soldier?” he asked.

“What’s that mean?”

He got up and walked down the steps into the overgrown garden. He turned, his hands resting on his hips.

“Come on, soldier… let’s fight.”

I wanted this. I wanted to smash a human face. Lucy was in the front of my mind… alone and frightened. I wanted to smash my way out of the trap I had walked into. I wanted to beat and be beaten.

I got to my feet and started down the steps. Raimundo backed away and began to strip off his shirt. I pulled off my shirt and let it drop, then I started towards him.

He was fast as I knew he would be. I got a clip on the side of my head as I came in which warned me he could punch. I jabbed him, but his head wasn’t there and I collected a solid bang in the teeth that sent me off balance. He was fast all right and moving around me, bouncing, on balance, able to shoot fast with either hand. I took two more of his punches : one split the skin under my right eye; the other made a graze on my cheek bone, then I nailed him with my right. It had all my weight and hate behind it. It exploded on his jaw and as he started to fall, I saw his eyes roll back. He went down, his head thudding on the sand.

I stood over him, my right fist aching and I waited.

After a moment or so, he opened his eyes, blinked up at me, then with a rueful grin, he got himself to his feet, but his legs were rubbery and he was staggering as he raised his fists.

The punch I had caught him with had taken most of the bile out of me.

“Let’s cut it out,” I said. “Okay?”

“If you want to go on… come on !” He took a step forward, then sagged down on his knees. He peered at me, shaking his head to clear it. “Have you let off enough steam, soldier?”

I caught hold of his arm and hoisted him to his feet. I helped him up the steps on to the verandah and steered him to one of the chairs. He collapsed into it, holding the side of his face. Blood was dripping from the cut under my eye. I sat down, holding my handkerchief against the cut.

We sat there like a couple of dummies for quite a while, then I removed the handkerchief. The cut wasn’t bleeding any more. I picked up my pack of cigarettes and offered it to him.

He looked at me, grimaced, then took a cigarette. We lit up.

“If you have to hate someone,” he said, “I’d rather you hate Carlo than me.”

Carlo came out on to the verandah. There was a bovine grin on his brutish face. He put two whiskies and ice on the table.

“That was a fine punch, Mr. Benson. You want to punch me too?”

I looked at him, then at Raimundo.

“Go ahead,” Raimundo said. “Hit him. He likes it… I don’t. Listen, soldier, we have a job to do, but we can’t do it if you’re still full of steam. So go ahead and hit him if it’ll help.”

I looked at the distant sea. I hold the trump card… your wife, Savanto had said. I looked at the crude brand on the upright supporting the roof of the verandah. I thought of Lucy. This wasn’t the time to thrash around like an animal caught in a net. This was something I had to handle if I wanted Lucy back, safe and unmarked.

“I take it, Savanto has some sort of plan and I have to put a polish on it. Right?” I said.

“More or less.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Diaz arrives at the Paradise City airport at 22.15 on September 27th. He will be travelling with four bodyguards. There will be a car at the airport to meet him. He and his bodyguards will drive along Highway 1. I have a marked map of the route. He will arrive at the Willington estate around 23.20. I have a map of the house and grounds. He will stay there for three days. Then he drives back to the airport and takes off. Mr. Savanto wants him knocked off here… not on his home ground : that would make too much of an uproar. So we have three days and two nights to nail him.”

“The Willington estate… what’s that?”

“It’s where his new girl friend lives,” Raimundo told me. “Nancy Willington. You’ve heard of her, haven’t you?”

“You mean Edward Willington’s wife?”

“That’s the one.”

Edward Willington was the President of National Computers. He was always in the news. There were constant press photos of him shaking hands with the President, boarding his enormous yacht, getting into his Rolls and so on and so on. I remembered him as a tall, fat man around sixty-five years of age with a politician’s smile and financier’s eyes. He had been married three times and had married yet again a year or so ago to an eighteen-year-old model. The marriage had caused quite a newspaper yak. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time, but the yak had been enough for me to remember.

“Are you telling me Willington’s wife is Diaz’s new girl friend?”

“That’s it. They met when Willington took her with him on a business trip to Caracas. While he was making money, Diaz was taking Nancy around. Now Willington is going to Paris from September 26th to 30th. The big house is shut up. Nancy is supposed to be at the Spanish hotel until Willington comes back. There’s a bungalow used for guests on the estate. That’s where she is meeting Diaz.”

“How do you know all this?”

Raimundo grinned.

“We got at Nancy’s coloured maid. She will be there to cook and clean while Diaz is screwing Nancy. Nancy told her the whole programme and she relayed it to me.”

“Let me look at the map of the estate.”

“Don’t waste your time. I’ve been to the place and checked it. There would be no problem if he was on his own, but he isn’t. His four boys are good. I don’t say they are better shots than you, but they are good. They will be patrolling all the time.” While he was talking, Carlo came out with a plate of sandwiches. “Eat something, soldier,” Raimundo went on. “You don’t have to worry about her.” He was smart enough to read my thoughts. The sight of those sandwiches had turned my mind to Lucy who had been getting my lunch ready when I had left her. “When Mr. Savanto says someone is okay, you can believe it.”

“I want to talk to her on the telephone. You make the connection and let me talk to her.”

He hesitated.

“I’ve got to talk to her,” I urged. “Maybe she is safe, but she doesn’t know it. If Savanto wants the job done well, I’ve got to talk to her.”

He chewed his sandwich while he thought, then he nodded.

“Makes sense to me. Just don’t tell Mr. Savanto.”

He went into the house. I waited, my heart thumping. It was a five minute wait. To me it seemed like an hour, then he came to the door.

“She’s on the line.”

I went into the hot sitting-room and picked up the telephone receiver.

“Lucy?”

“Oh, Jay…”

The sound of her voice, scared and unsteady, hit me under the heart.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Jay, what does all this mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you being looked after?”

“Oh, yes, but Jay ! I must know… what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry. Trust me. I’ll be with you in a few days. Just trust me…” I heard a click on the line and it went dead.

Well, I had got some kind of message over. At least, she had told me she was all right. Of course she was scared, but now I hoped she would hang on, remembering what I had said.

“Got that off your chest, soldier?” Raimundo asked. He was standing in the doorway, watching me.

I replaced the receiver.

“It helped.”

I returned to the verandah and sat down. I was now more relaxed and hungry. As Raimundo sat by my side, we both reached for sandwiches.

“If I can’t nail him on the estate where do I nail him?” I asked.

“In around ten minutes you’ll see.” He chewed for a moment, then went on, “The Little Brothers are sending a witness who has to be convinced Timoteo did the shooting.”

“Who will that be?”

Raimundo spat over the verandah rail.

“Fernando Lopez. He is a big shot in the organisation and he hates Savanto. He’s sure Timoteo hasn’t the guts to knock Diaz off. It’ll be your business to convince him.”

I didn’t like the sound of this.

“If he’s going to stand over Timoteo while he shoots we can give up right now.”

“Mr. Savanto will be here. He won’t let him stand over him. This is something we have to work out.”

I looked at him.

“Just why are you getting involved in this? You’re making yourself an accessory to murder.”

Raimundo fingered his jaw tenderly.

“I don’t see it that way. Mr. Savanto did me a lot of good when I was a kid. I owe him plenty.” His black eyes hardened. “This has got to work, soldier.”

“So he tells me or my wife gets branded.”

“When it’s done you’ll be a rich man. Savanto keeps his promises. You’ll only have yourself to blame if he puts the iron on her.”

I felt a cold chill crawl up my spine.

“He will do it?”

“He’ll do it.”

He looked at his watch, then got to his feet and went into the house. He returned, carrying two pairs of 9 x 35 binoculars. He gave me one pair, then sat down, holding the other pair on his knees. “The bay ahead of you is part of Willington’s private beach.” Again he looked at his watch. “Take a look at the bay through the glasses and imagine you are going to shoot.”

As I picked up the glasses I heard the distant throb of a high- powered engine. I was focusing the glasses as I picked up a sleek motorboat as it came around the arm of the bay. I adjusted centre screw. The glasses were good. I now had the boat in focus. There was a fat negress wearing a white overall at the wheel. I saw the tow rope white against the blue of the sea and I shifted the glasses to the left.

The girl on the skis was completely naked. Her slim, perfectly-built body was golden brown: her straw-coloured hair streamed out behind her. I moved the centre screw a little and she came sharply into focus. I could see her dark nipples and her taut arm muscles. She looked like a sea nymph as she skimmed over the water to the far end of the bay. There was an excited, laughing expression on her young face. The boat made a sharp turn. She jumped the tow rope with the ease and confidence of an expert, then she lifted a leg and skimmed along on one ski.

She cavorted for some fifteen minutes: beautiful, exciting, sexy and thoroughly expert. Then the boat took her out of sight behind the row of palm trees that fringed the bay. I heard the motor splutter, then die.

“That’s her,” Raimundo said, putting down his glasses. “Every day at this time she skis. Diaz is one of the top skiers in South America. It’s a safe bet when he has screwed her enough, they will come out on that bay and show each other how good they are. Can you nail him from here?”

I thought about this. The target would be moving fast and constantly changing direction. I thought of the 600mm. telescopic sight which would cut down the distance to maybe a hundred feet. It wouldn’t be an impossible shot, but a tricky one. Then I thought what it would mean if I missed. I looked again at the Red Dragon brand on the verandah upright. I remembered the time when I had been high in a tree with a rifle equipped with a 300mm. sight. I had waited three long, hot hours for a sniper to show: a sniper who had done a lot of damage. My arms had become stiff and my eyes, in the glare, unreliable before he raised his head into sight. The range had been close on five hundred yards. I had a split second to kill him, but I had killed him. That was three years ago. My reflexes were that much slower, but I would have Diaz in my sights for half a mile. I would be shooting with a silencer. I would have at least six shots at him without him knowing he was being shot at.

“It’s a seventy-five-twenty-five chance on,” I said. Will she perform tomorrow?”

“Every day at this time.”

“I’ll know for sure when I’ve looked at her through the telescopic sight.” I stood up. “I’m going back to get Timoteo’s rifle.”

Raimundo squinted up at me.

“You want me to come with you, soldier?”

“I won’t run away.”

He nodded.

“Go ahead.”

It took me a little over thirty-five minutes to get back to the place I called my home. During the drive I thought of Lucy. I thought of the first night we had spent together. Unlike most girls these days she had been a virgin. I remembered her little gasp of pain as I had entered her and I remembered her gentle hands holding my head. I remembered the next three months when she had always been dithering but encouraging. I remembered her saying: I am a little scared of you. I do see you have to be tough and hard if you are to succeed, but please try not to be tough and hard with me.

To get her back I had to kill a man. But who was Diaz Savanto? He had shown himself to be an animal. He had raped and branded a girl who was probably as harmless as Lucy.

As I drove up the sandy road that led to the shooting school, I saw the gates were open. As I neared the bungalow I saw the red and blue Buick convertible that belonged to Detective Tom Lepski of Paradise City’s police headquarters.

I slid out of the car, my heart thumping and I looked around. There was no sign of Lepski. I walked to the bungalow. The front door stood open. I entered the sitting-room. The table was laid for a meal. I went into the kitchen. On the stove was a frying pan with slices of ham, a saucepan of peas and another saucepan of water with a cup of rice near by. I walked into our bedroom. It was as I had left it. I looked into Lucy’s closet. Her clothes were there. Nothing seemed missing.

I had a feeling of utter loneliness. This was the first time I had come home and not found her waiting for me.

I left the bungalow and headed for the shooting gallery. I had an idea I would find Lepski there. I was right. As I approached, he appeared in the doorway of the lean-to.

His cold quizzing eyes met mine.

“Hi ! I was going to put in an alarm about you.”

I forced myself to meet the probing stare.

“Alarm? What do you mean?”

“I found this place deserted. I thought something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. What brings you here, Mr. Lepski?”

“I was passing. I promised Mrs. Benson a recipe for a chutney my old lady used to make. Where is she?”

I was sure he had been in the house, had seen the preparations for the meal and had sniffed around as only a trained cop can sniff around.

“I’ve just seen her off. A friend of hers is ill. We had a panic call.”

“That’s tough.” He shook his head. “When I got here and looked around it was like another Marie Celeste.”

“Another… who?”

He looked a little smug.

“The ship that was found deserted: meals on the table… no one aboard. I’m a Reader’s Digest subscriber. They tell you stuff like that. When I got here, found the front door open, the table laid for a meal, the meal on the stove, no sign of life… it got me bothered.”

“Yeah, we had this panic call. We dropped everything and ran.”

“A friend of your wife’s?”

“That’s right.”

He eyed me.

“Who won?”

I gaped at him.

“Come again.”

“What was the fight about?”

I had forgotten my bruises and the cut under my eye.

“Oh, nothing. I got into an argument. I guess I flip my lid from time to time.”

“Some argument.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from me. “Your telephone isn’t working.” His eyes swivelled back to me.

“It isn’t?” I began to fumble for a cigarette, then changed my mind. That sort of move tells a cop he’s making you nervous. “One minute it works, the next it doesn’t. You know how it is when you’re as far out as we are.”

“The line’s been cut.”

The back of my throat was turning dry.

“Cut? I don’t understand that.”

“It’s been cut.”

“Some kid… Kids around here are hell. I’ll get it fixed. I had no idea.”

“Do you usually walk out of your home leaving the front door open?”

I was getting fazed with these questions. I decided it was time to stop him.

“If it doesn’t worry me, why should it worry you?”

Lepski’s face hardened. He became all cop.

“Folk who are that careless make a lot of work for the police. I’m asking you : do you usually walk out of your house and leave the door open?”

“I guess so. We’re miles from anyone. We often sleep with the door open.”

He regarded me, his eyes bleak.

“And the kids around here are hell?”

I didn’t say anything.

“When I got here and found no one,” he went on after a long pause, “I looked around. Did Mrs. Benson take her things with her? I looked in the closets… that’s routine, Mr. Benson. Seemed to me nothing is missing.”

“I appreciate your interest,” I said, “but you don’t have to worry. This was a panic call. We didn’t have much time. My wife took all she wanted for a few days.”

He stroked his nose while he continued to look at me.

“Why isn’t your pupil shooting?”

The sudden shift of ground had me fazed.

“Pupil?”

“The rich guy you are teaching who is taking up all your time.”

“Oh… him.” My mind worked quickly. “He quit yesterday.”

“Is that right? What was his trouble? Another sick friend?”

“No trouble. He just got bored.”

“Is that Weston & Lees rifle in the gun rack his?”

“Yes.” I was beginning to sweat and this annoyed me. “I’m sending it back to him.”

“Why didn’t he take it with him?”

I had to stop this.

“Do you care, Mr. Lepski?”

He grinned.

“I guess not.” The grin went away. “This six hundred milimetre sight and silencer… Who is the planning to assassinate? The President?”

I had left the sight and silencer in the box. He must have been hunting around in earnest to have found them.

Somehow I forced a laugh.

“He’s gadget-minded. You know these guys with more money than sense. Every gun gadget he sees he has to have.”

“Yeah.” Lepski nodded. “So now you have free time? No pupil… no wife. I’ve got free time tomorrow. How about me coming out here for a lesson?”

That was the last thing I wanted.

“Sorry, but I plan to join my wife. I’m shutting the school for a few days.”

“I don’t seem to have any luck. Okay, we have a date on the 29th. Right?”

“That’s it. I haven’t forgotten.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “That’s a nice gun… the best. I’d like to own a gun like that.”

“Me too.”

His expression turned blank as he thought. I watched him, sure when he looked like that he was dangerous.

“You mean he gave up taking lessons even when he had the telescopic sight?”

“He got bored.”

Lepski scratched the side of his face.

“Isn’t money a wonderful thing? I’d liked to be bored.” He took off his straw hat and fanned himself with it. “It’s goddam hot, isn’t it?” Before I could agree that it was hot, he went on, “So you’re joining your wife. Where is she?” This was shot at me, quick and hard like a boxer’s jab.

By now, I was very alert.

“Not all that far. Well, Mr. Lepski, I have things to do. See you on the 29th.”

“Sure. You have things to do.” He hesitated, then he turned on his cop stare. “Keep your house locked in the future. We’re not looking for unnecessary work.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Well, so long, Mr. Benson. See you later.”

We shook hands, then he walked off to his car. I stood in the sun, watching until he had driven out of sight. I went back to the bungalow and cleared up. I packed a bag with enough things to last me a week. Then I found a sheet of paper and in block letters I wrote:

THE SCHOOL OF SHOOTING IS CLOSED UNTIL SEPTEMBER 28th.

I put my bag in the car, went over to the shooting gallery, locked my guns away and collected the Weston & Lees rifle, the sight and the silencer.

I drove down to the double gates, closed them and fixed the notice on the wooden upright, then I drove back to the little white house where I had a rendezvous in five days time with Diaz Savanto.

“I want to talk to Savanto,” I said.

We had just finished a scratch meal. Carlo’s cooking was pretty had and none of us had eaten much. The moon was on the rise and the night was hot. It was very quiet and peaceful with the moon, the sea and the swaying palms, but I wasn’t at peace.

Raimundo regarded me.

“Anything you say, soldier. When do you want to see him?”

“Right now. Where is he?”

“At the Imperial. Do you want me to come along?”

“Yes.”

He looked surprised, but got to his feet and we went down to the Volkswagen.

For the past four hours I had been wandering around, getting the feel of the place and working on the problems that had to be solved before I could even think of the shot. I was aware that I hadn’t much time. I now had the problems lined up and four real tricky ones couldn’t be solved without Savanto’s help. If he couldn’t handle them, we were in trouble.

We found him sitting on the balcony of his hotel suite. He waved me to a chair.

“Sit down, Mr. Benson. You have something on your mind?”

I sat down while Raimundo propped himself against the balcony rail.

“Yes, you could say that.” I told him about Lepski’s two visits. He listened, his eyes a little sleepy, his fingers doing a little dance on his knees.

“This cop is sharp,” I concluded. “Because you tricked me into agreeing to kill Diaz, I have now given him false information he will probably check. Because you lied to me about your son not being allowed to touch a firearm I told him about a rich client who doesn’t exist. Now I have told him about a sick girl friend of my wife who also doesn’t exist. If he checks, I am in trouble.”

“Why should he check, Mr. Benson?”

I moved impatiently.

“Do I have to spell it out? When I kill Diaz Savanto there will he a police inquiry. If I am to shoot him while he is skiing, the police will find out fast enough that he was shot with a high- powered rifle. It won’t take them long to work out from where the gunman was shooting. They will also work out the gunman was using a powerful telescopic sight. Then Lepski will remember the Weston & Lees and the six hundred millimetre sight and the silencer. He will then remember my rich pupil who doesn’t exist and he will remember my wife rushed off to visit a sick friend who doesn’t exist. So he will come to me and ask questions. He…”

Savanto raised his hand, stopping me.

“All this you are telling me presents no problem, Mr. Benson, because the situation won’t arise. The police will not investigate.”

I stared at him.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because they won’t know about the shooting. You haven’t understood the situation. I have given it considerable thought. When I learned that Diaz was planning an adulterous three days with the wife of Edward Willington I saw this was the perfect opportunity. The last thing Nancy Willington will want is for the police, followed by the press, to ask her what Diaz Savanto was doing on her husband’s private estate. Let us consider the situation from her point of view. The two of them are skiing. Mysteriously, because you will be shooting with a silencer, Diaz drops. The boat stops. She finds he has been shot in the head. What does she do? Rush back and call the police? No. She will rely on the negress driving the boat to get the body out of the water. The negress will handle the situation. I assure you, Mr. Benson, we can rely on her. She is being extremely well paid. The body will be taken away by Diaz’s men. The girl has plenty of money and she will be persuaded to pay them well. She would pay anything to avoid such publicity.” Savanto lifted his heavy shoulders. “I assure you the police won’t hear about this.”

“The girl might panic and call the police.”

“She won’t be allowed to. The negress will handle her.”

I thought of this girl. I could see her, naked, young and excitedly happy on her skis. By squeezing the trigger of the Weston & Lees I would give her a future life of nightmares.

“What have you to tell me about the shooting, Mr. Benson? It is the shooting I am interested in.”

“If it wasn’t for this witness of yours, there would scarcely be a problem,” I said. “I’ll be able to tell you tomorrow for certain if I can nail him while he is skiing. I want first to get a view of the girl through the telescopic sight. I am pretty sure it is an acceptable shot, but I want to be certain. If it is, then Timoteo is to do his act on the flat roof of the house. You and your witness will escort him up there. Then you two leave and you will wait on the verandah with binoculars. I want him up there at

14.30. With luck, Diaz and the girl will show around 15.00. There is a big tree at the hack of the house offering plenty of cover. I’ll be up there. When you and your witness leave the roof I’ll join Timoteo. I’ll do the shooting and get back into the tree. Timoteo joins you. It is up to him to convince your witness what a good shot he has been. What do you think?”

Savanto considered this for some moments, then he nodded.

“Yes… it is a good plan.” He looked sharply at me, his black eyes glittering. “You will kill him?”

“I think so, but I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“You had better be sure, Mr. Benson.”

The threat was there.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I left him.

Raimundo followed me to the car. We drove hack in silence. The whole thing was comnletely unreal to me. but what was real was the Red Dragon brand on the verandah’s upright.