1974 - So What Happens to Me (19 page)

I got in the Caddy and drove to Kendrick’s gallery.

Louis de Mamey hurried me into Kendrick’s room. The fat queer was pacing up and down and practically biting his nails.

“For heaven’s sake! What happened?” he exploded as I sat down.

I give him the whole story without holding anything back.

He listened, sweat on his face and every now and then, he lifted his absurd orange wig to wipe his baldhead with his handkerchief.

“That’s it,” I concluded. “A flop. Did you know Bernie had a weak heart?”

“Of course not! You don’t imagine, cheri, I would have let him handle an operation like that had I known. What about the money?”

“I’ll return it to Orzoco. I can fix that. The point is will he keep his mouth shut? If it comes out the kite crashed in the jungle and not in the sea we’ll all be in trouble—and that includes you.”

“I’ll talk to him. If he gets his money back, he will accept the situation.” Kendrick eyed me. “You owe me two thousand dollars, cheri.”

“Expenses. Write them off against tax.” I got to my feet.

“If you can smother Orzoco then we should all be in the clear. The insurance investigators are searching for the wreck so you’d better tell Orzoco to get rid of it pronto. How do I get the money to him?”

Kendrick stared at me.

“You really mean you’re going to part with a million and a half dollars, cheri?”

“That’s it. I don’t want it. I’ve got a job with Essex. I’m a sucker for work. What do I do: write to the bank and tell them to pay the money to Orzoco?”

“I’ll talk to him. He may not want it done that way. Give me a couple of days.”

We left it like that.

I then drove to a florist and bought thirty-six long-stemmed roses. I wrote on the card: With my sincere wishes for your speedy recovery - Jack Crane. That was impersonal enough as I was sure Essex staff would quiz I told the girl to have the roses sent to Mrs. Victoria Essex right away.

Then feeling I had done a good day’s work. I drove back to my new home and telephoned my old man, breaking the news that his one and only was safe and sound and was now settling down to a job of work.

Listening to my old man babbling with joy, hearing the catch in his voice that told me he was crying, I realised as nothing else could tell me what a heel I was.

NINE

I
came awake the following morning around 10.00. I was relaxed, my face and arms were returning to normal and I felt pretty good. Room service sent up eggs and grilled ham and I made a leisurely breakfast. This was the way to live, I told myself.

I looked out of the window at the sparkling sea and decided I would take a swim, then pick up a dolly bird, take her to lunch and then a drive in the Caddy. If she wasn’t too stupid, I’d take her for a night on the town and bring her back here.

While I smoked my first cigarette of the day thinking of my future, the telephone bell rang.

“Jack? I wanted to thank you for the roses.”

Hearing her voice did something extraordinary to me. It flashed into my mind that this woman - Mrs. Victoria Essex - could now prove lethal to me. Right now I was Lane Essex’s special pet. I was in charge of his airfield. I was going to supervise the building of a new ten million dollar plane. I was being paid fifty thousand dollars a year for this and he was even paying my income tax. But if he found out I was screwing his wife, all this would explode in my face.

Lying there on the bed the telephone receiver against my ear, it came to me that this job was something I had unconsciously dreamed of: to be an executive with power, working for a billionaire.

A cold sick feeling took hold of me. I knew this woman had to be handled very, very carefully. Everyone connected with Essex Enterprises had warned me she was a blueprint for a bitch. Up to now, she and I had jelled because I had wanted her and she had wanted me, but so far as I was concerned, not now.

“Vicky! How are you?” I forced my voice to sound ardent.

“I’m recovering. My feet still hurt. Lane tells me he has taken care of you. Are you satisfied Jack? You have only to tell me: I can handle Lane.”

A drop of cold sweat ran down the side of my nose and I flicked it away.

“Satisfied? He leant over backwards, and I have you to thank.”

“Good.” A pause, then she said. “He’s just left for Moscow. I’m going to the cabin: join me at six,” and she hung up.

Slowly, I replaced the receiver.

Suddenly my planned day of fun turned grey. I knew every time she and I met, I was putting my new career into jeopardy.

Should anyone see us and send word to Essex, I would have no career, and yet I knew Mrs. Victoria Essex was far too dangerous to refuse.

The relaxed happy hours on the beach with a brainless dolly bird were now a pipe dream! I had to drive to the cabin, risk my future because Mrs. Victoria Essex had beckoned.

I spent the morning and most of the afternoon in my room, brooding. I drank too much. I didn’t feel like eating. Then around 17.00, I went to the garage, got in the Caddy and drove to the cabin.

Sam came out into the sunshine. I nodded to him as he beamed, taking my overnight bag. He could betray me, I thought. A word from him to Essex would leave me out in the very dark cold.

Vicky was lying on the divan, sipping a dry martini.

“Jack!”

“How are you?”

She still had a few tiny blemishes from the insect bites on her skin, but they had been skillfully treated. She looked marvellous in a simple red cotton dress that reached to her ankles.

She looked up at me: her big violet eyes full of desire as she finished the martini and set down the glass.

“Lock the door, Jack. I want you.”

As I turned the key, I again realised the trap I was in, but in spite of knowing this, I wanted her: no man alive wouldn’t want her.

Our lovemaking was fierce. Twice she cried out wildly and I cringed, wondering if Sam was listening outside the door. When she was finally satisfied, she smiled up at me.

“You’re quite a man Jack. Let’s have a drink.”

So we had martinis, then Sam brought in dinner of lobster soup, grilled salmon steaks, salad and coffee.

She talked: I listened.

“I must tell you about Lane.” she said with a laugh. “He was really furious with me that I had taken a ride on the Condor. I’ve never seen him so mad. He sacked poor Thompson who let me on. If it wasn’t for my feet, he would have beaten me.”

I couldn’t imagine any man beating this woman.

“Do you go along with that?”

She laughed.

“Men have their kinks. I don’t mind so long as it keeps him happy. I smoke a reefer before he begins.” She laughed again. “In a way, it’s quite fun.”

I suddenly felt sickened by this.

“Vicky . . . do you think I should stay the night?” I asked. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

Her eyes turned hard as she stared at me.

“Don’t you want to stay with me Jack?”

Did I hell! One slip and I would lose my future.

“Of course, but I’m thinking of you. It’s damn dangerous. Someone . . .”

“There’s no someone.” She stretched herself like a beautiful sleek cat. “Turn on the telly. Let’s watch the fights.”

So we spent the next two hours watching bums hanging onto each other and hitting the air around each other, then Sam came in to clear the dishes.

“Carry me to bed Jack,” she said. “My feet still hurt.”

Picking her up, taking her into her bedroom, laying her on the king size bed meant nothing to me. I just wanted to get away, but that, I knew, was something I wasn’t going to do.

“Undress me Jack.”

I could hear Sam washing the dishes. Reluctantly I undressed her while she lay still, smiling at me. When I had got her into a shortie nightdress, she said, “Take a shower Jack.” The violet eyes had turned hungry. “Hurry . . .”

Around 01.00, we finally fell asleep. She woke me as the dawn light came through the open window and we made love again. She seemed insatiable. I was still in a deep, exhausted sleep when she woke me again.

“Get up Jack. It’s after ten. Go into the spare bedroom. The doctor’s coming.”

I dragged myself, half asleep, into the spare bedroom. I dropped onto the bed, feeling as if I had been fed through a mincer. I slept.

What seemed minutes later, a gentle hand shook me awake.

“Lunch will be ready in an hour, Mr. Crane,” Sam said softly.

I staggered out of bed, took a cold shower, dressed and went into the living room. I was feeling like hell.

Vicky was sipping a dry martini.

“Hi Jack! Did you rest?”

I forced a grin.

“Yes, I find you marvellously exhausting.” I reached for the cocktail shaker. “What did the quack say?”

She grimaced.

“He wanted to shoot me full of antibiotics, but I said no.”

“You’re right.” I drank half the martini to give me courage, then said, “I have to go to the city this morning. I won’t be long, but I have to go.”

She put down her drink and eyed me.

“Why?”

Just looking at her, seeing those violet eyes turn glass hard seeing her face tighten into a stone mask told me as nothing else could that I was handling dynamite.

So I told her about Claude Kendrick and Orzoco. She listened, staring at me.

“I must get Orzoco fixed.” I concluded. “The only way is to pay back the money, then he can’t beef. I have to see Kendrick and tie it up.”

She drew in a long, slow breath.

“You’ve certainly involved yourself in a mess, haven’t you?”

There was an edge to her voice.

“I can handle it. You don’t have to worry.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to have said. She picked up her cocktail glass and threw it viciously across the room.

The glass exploded against the wall. She leaned forward, glaring at me.

“Worry? What the hell do you mean? If you involve me in your sordid hijack, you’ll be sorry you’re alive! Go and fix it! But don’t you dare involve me!”

“Take it easy, Vicky.” I was shocked at her viciousness.

“There’s no need to get angry. I’ll fix it.”

“You’d better!”

Looking at her as she glared at me, her face like stone, her eyes blazing, she lost the glamour she ever had for me. For the first time I could understand why everyone had warned me that she was a blueprint of a bitch.

As I left the room, she screamed after me, “And come back! I want you here before five o’clock!”

***

Claude Kendrick received me in his room with a wry smile.

“It’s all fixed, cheri: no problems. I have a document for you to sign. I have talked to Orzoco. He understands. Actually, he isn’t displeased. He has salvaged a lot of expensive items from the aircraft which he gets for nothing.”

“How about the wreck?”

Kendrick smiled.

“It doesn’t exist anymore. It’s all right. There’s no problem. Just sign here. This assigns your company to Orzoco.”

I signed with the name I had used to register the company: Jack Norton.

That seemed to be that.

“I understand Mr. Essex is going to build another Condor?” Kendrick said looking slyly at me. “Maybe we could do another deal?”

“Not a hope.”

He lifted his orange wig, stared inside it and slapped it back on his head.

“Yes.” He squinted up at me. “Mrs. Essex owns a number of expensive baubles: particularly a diamond necklace. I would be in the market if you could arrange something.”

“Get stuffed, fatty.” I said and left him.

I got into the Caddy. The time by the dashboard clock was 13.30. I wasn’t expected back until 17.00. I decided to return to my apartment. I needed time to think.

I ordered the special for the day and it was served on a trolley. I ate it, then lit a cigarette and sat by the open window.

I told myself that once I began working for Essex, I would be out of Vicky’s clutches. I had to ride for the next four days, but once I reported for work, I would be safe. She would know this and have to accept it. I would be on the move all the time to satisfy Essex. To run the airfield and to supervise the building of the new Condor would give me no time to be in bed with Mrs. Victoria Essex.

I had four more nights of risk and I sweated at the thought.

Still. I tried to assure myself, her risk was as great as mine, and if she was satisfied she was safe, sleeping with me, surely I could feel safe too.

At this moment, my front door bell rang.

Without thinking it was anyone but the waiter to take away the trolley, I got up and opened the door.

There is a phrase people use: he jumped out of his skin.

An exaggeration, of course, no one can jump out of his skin, but he can do so mentally. He can be so shocked that blood leaves his face, he turns cold, and for a long moment, he becomes breathless. That was what happened to me when I saw Pam Osborn standing in the doorway.

There she was, blonde hair falling to her shoulders in a cascade of gold with her narrow, high cheek bones and her large green eyes. She had on a buttercup-coloured blouse and white stretch pants and her smile was the smile of a panther.

“Hi Jack!” she said. “Surprised?”

I retreated from her and she came into the room, closing the door.

Pam!

From the moment I had insisted that she shouldn’t fly with us and that she had to wait in Merida, she had gone completely out of my mind. Now here she was: the one fatal link between me and the hijack. I had believed, after talking to Kendrick, that I was clear of trouble. I also believed I could get clear of Vicky. She would soon get bored with me when I couldn’t run when she beckoned. Up to this moment, my future had looked settled, but not now . . . certainly not now.

I stood watching her as she chose a chair and sat down “I’m so happy Jack, that you are making such a success of your life,” she said as she opened her handbag and took out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve been talking to Dolly Byrnes: she’s a special friend of mine. So you’re now Essex’s white-headed boy.”

She stared at me: the hatred in those green eyes was chilling.