An Ace Up My Sleeve (14 page)

"Your word?" She smiled bitterly. "What's that worth?"

"You wait and see!"

He shot his cuff and regarded his watch. "Two minutes!"

"Jack ... will you please write to the bank and ask them to send me the photos? I'm asking this for your sake as well as mine," Helga said. "One minute!"

She lifted her hands and in despair, dropped them in her lap. He pulled his cuff over his watch.

"Okay, Helga. That's it. So we're no longer partners. The photos will be delivered to Herman as he leaves Geneva airport. I'll be able to put up with life in a prison cell, thinking of you booted out of your comfortable nest." He turned and marched to the door, jerked it open and found himself confronted by Larry.

He reared back as if he had touched a live cable, stumbled and had to make an effort to regain his balance.

Larry moved into the room, his jaw moving rhythmically, his hands in his jeans pockets.

"Hi, Fatso," he said in his quiet drawl. "Remember me?"

"What are you doing here?" Archer snarled. He whirled around, glaring at Helga. "Is this your doing?"

"You shouldn't have done this to me," Helga said quietly. "You should have known you couldn't get away with blackmailing me. Now, write to the bank and tell them to send the photos." She pointed to the desk. "Do it at once!" "I'll see you damned first!" Archer snarled. "You don't think this pimp of yours frightens me?"

Larry reached out, grabbed Archer's arm and spun' him around. His open right hand, moving so fast it looked to Helga like a blur of white, slapped Archer's face. The sound of his palm against Archer's fat jowl was like a pistol shot. She saw something fly out of Archer's mouth as he staggered back. She looked down. Archer's top denture lay at her feet: six gleaming white teeth set on a gold plate. She shut her eyes and turned away.

She heard Archer mumble something, then Larry, his voice sounding deadly, said, "Stay right where you are or I'll tread on them!" She braced herself and turned.

A livid red mark showed on Archer's face. He looked changed without his top teeth and his lips had fallen in. To her, he looked old, stupid and frightened.

Larry had moved to where the denture had fallen. There was a hard grin on his face as he watched Archer.

"There's plenty of the same unless you do what you're told."

Archer made a whinnying sound, then turning, he charged out of the room into the hall. Larry went after him, moving silently and swiftly.

The slapping sound came again. Helga stood motionless, fighting down the bile rising in her mouth. She heard Archer suddenly cry out. It was a horrible sound and she put her hands over her ears, but her hands couldn't keep out the savage sound going on in the hall: the tramping of feet, the quick in–take of breath, the inhuman grunting of a man trying to exert all his strength, then the sound of a heavy fall that shook the villa. She rushed to the open door.

Archer was lying on his back and Larry was standing over him. As she paused, Larry kicked the prostrated man in his shifting his heavy body by the force of his kick and making Archer cry out.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Helga cried. "Larry! Stop it!"

He frowned, looked blankly at her, and for a moment he didn't seem to recognize her, then his face relaxed and he grinned, stepping back.

"He's okay, ma'am ... just trying to be younger than he "Leave him alone!"

"Sure, ma'am." Larry moved further away, then looking down at Archer, he said, "Come on, Fatso, get up. You're not hurt ... yet. Come on."

Very slowly, Archer crawled to his feet. He staggered to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily and sagging at the knees. The right side of his face now showed a black bruise, tinged with red and a trickle of blood ran from the side of his mouth. Helga looked away. The sight of his face sickened her.

"That's the boy," Larry said. "Now go in there and collect your teeth, then
write that letter."
Archer glared at him, then at Helga.

"By God! I'll make you two pay for this," he mumbled. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood from his mouth. The spite and viciousness in his eyes chilled Helga.

"Sure ... sure," Larry said softly. "We know all about that. Go ahead ... get in mere!"

Unsteadily and moving like a cripple, Archer walked into the sitting–room. He picked up his denture and put it in his mouth.

"Maybe, ma'am, you'd better write the letter. I don't reckon he's up to it," Larry said, eyeing Archer.

"Yes," Helga said.

"Sit down," Larry said to Archer. "Take it easy."

Archer sank into a chair and held his face in his hands. His breathing was very laboured and alarmed Helga."Is he all right?"

"Oh, sure, ma'am ... he's fine. Don't worry about him," Larry said. "You get that letter written."

Helga went to the desk, took a portable Olivetti from one of the bottom drawers and put it on the desk. Her hands were shaking a little, and the paper rattled as she threaded it into the typewriter. She hesitated for a long moment, breathing deeply until she regained some composure, then she began to type.

The only sound in the big room was the clacking of the typewriter and Archer's laboured breathing.

Larry stripped a stick of chewing gum and put it in his mouth,

It took Helga only a few minutes to complete the letter. She ripped the sheet out of the typewriter and checked what she had written.

She put the letter on the desk and looked at Archer who still sat motionless, his face in his hands. "Jack ..."

He didn't move and Larry, frowning, gave him a hard poke in his back with his finger.

"The lady's speaking to you, buster," he said.

Archer looked up slowly and her heart sank when she saw the expression in his eyes. She saw then he had more steel in him than she had imagined. He had absorbed the first shock, and now his bruised face was set and his eyes glittered with the viciousness of a cornered animal. "I'll read the letter to you," she said.

He pressed his hand to his aching face and continued to glare at her.

Her voice a little husky, she read the letter aloud. He just sat there, now staring down at the carpet and mopping at his bleeding mouth.

"Will you sign it?" she asked. He looked up.

"I forged your signature ... go ahead and forge mine." The hate in his eyes sickened her. "Go ahead and see how far it'll get you."

Larry made a slight movement towards him, but Helga gestured to him to stay where he was.

"Jack ... I told you I hold four aces. You'll sign sooner or later. I must have those photographs," she said, her hands into fists on the desk. "I hate this. I want to spare you although you don't deserve any consideration, but I do want to spare you. Please sign this letter."

"You and your pimp can go to hell!" Archer snarled. "As long as I have those photographs I'm safe ... without them, I'm not."

"If you sign this letter Jack, and I get the photos, I give you my solemn promise that Herman won't prosecute, but you'll have to lose the account. I promise you won't go to prison."

"What's your promise worth to me? It's stalemate, you bitch. I'm not signing."

"Larry promised me he would make you sign," Helga said, trying desperately to quell the panic and despair rising in her. "That means he will ill-treat you. For God's sake, Jack! I don't want you hurt. Please sign this letter!" Archer stared at her, his eyes narrowing.

"I told you ... it's stalemate! If this ape starts knocking me about, he could kill me. "In the event of my death" ... remember? I'll tell you something I haven't told anyone. I have a bad heart. My quack warned me on no account was I to over-exert myself. So go ahead if you want me dead. Tell your ape to start knocking me about."

Larry, chewing gum, was listening to all this, his eyes shifting from Helga to Archer and back to Helga again. He saw the dismay growing in Helga's eyes and he moved into action.

He went up to Archer.

"Up on your feet!" he said. "You and me are going downstairs. Come on." "No!" Helga's voice was shrill. "Don't touch him!"

"It's okay, ma'am. I'm not touching him unless I have to. I want to talk to
him. On your feet, buster."
Archer stood up.

"Keep away from me! I'm walking out of here and I'm daring either of you to stop me! Now, get out of my way!"

With a movement like a striking snake, Larry's big hand closed over Archer's wrist, twisted, had Archer spinning around and then bending his arm he had him in a paralysing grip. Helga jumped to her feet. "Larry! No!"

"It's okay," Larry said quietly. "He doesn't want to drop dead, do you, Fatso? Move with the legs."

Her heart hammering, Helga watched Larry march Archer out of the room. She heard them going down the stairs and she walked unsteadily to an armchair and sank into it and put her hands to her face.

Her bluff had been called. From the moment she had agreed to let Larry help her, she had a feeling it would end in disaster. She dare not risk Archer dying. It would be better to submit to his blackmail. Jumping to her feet, she ran into the hall and paused as she saw Larry coming up the stairs from the cellars. "What have you done with him?"

"He's okay, ma'am. I've locked him in one of the cellars ... the one at the far end ... the empty one. He can't get out. I thought maybe you and me ought to have a talk before we do anything more."

She went back into the sitting-room.

"We must let him go, Larry."

"Do you think he's bluffing about his bad heart, ma'am?" She lifted her hands helplessly.

"How do I know? He looks like a man with heart trouble. I don't know, but if you try to force him to sign and he the dies ... no, Larry, we can't do it."

Larry rubbed the back of his neck. "Mind if I have a beer, ma'am?"

"No ... help yourself ... have anything!" 

He went over to the bar, opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of beer. "This is pretty handy, isn't it, ma'am? You've certainly got it all laid on. Do you want something?"

"No."

She sat in despair, trying to think of a way out and finding none.
I'll make you two pay for this!

He would, of course. He knew Larry was an Army deserter. He would inform against him. Herself? He would be merciless, bleeding the account with impunity, making her cover up his embezzlement.

"Look, ma'am, take it easy," Larry said. He carried his glass of beer from the bar and sat down opposite her. "We can still fix this. Have you got a copy of his signature?"

She stiffened and looked quickly at him. "Yes, but I could never forge it."

"Could I see it, ma'am?"

"But why? I don't understand." "Could I see it, ma'am?"

She went to the desk, found a file containing the dozens of letters Archer had written to her concerning business transactions. She looked at the almost indecipherable signature. No... to forge that wasn't possible.

She handed one of the letters to Larry who looked at it. "A real mean signature, isn't it, ma'am?"

"Yes, but his bank knows it. It is impossible to forge."

"Maxie could do it with his eyes shut."

She stiffened. "Who?"

"Maxie Friedlander ... the guy who fixed my passport. He could do it."

The feeling of utter defeat and despair that was crushing her lifted."Would he?"

Larry smiled his warm, friendly smile.

"From what Ron tells me, ma'am, Maxie would cut his own throat if the money was right. Yeah ... he'd do it."

"He wouldn't ask questions?"

"No, ma'am."

"But he would have to see the letter, Larry. It gives my address. He could blackmail me."

"He needn't see the letter. You could cover it up. Anyway, Maxie wouldn't want trouble. You pay him enough and there'll be no kick-back." "How much would he want?"

"I don't know that, ma'am. Maybe what you paid him for my passport. I'll get it as cheap as I can."

She leaned forward, clasping her hands."Will you do it?"

"Why, sure, ma'am. Ron told me I was to help you and that's what I'm going to do. Give me the money and I'll go now if you'll let me have your car. I reckon it'll take me a little over five hours to get to Basle." He looked at the ornate clock on the overmantel. "It's now nearly two o'clock. I'll be with Maxie around seven o'clock. Maybe he'll take an hour for the job. I'll be back here by two in the morning. How's that?"

Again she had the feeling of pending disaster, but she could think of no other alternative. "Thank you, Larry. Take the car. What about ... him?"

"I'll fix him up before I go. He'll want something to eat and a bucket to pee in. You leave all this to me. I'll be off in half an hour." He went briskly into the kitchen.

She sat mere for some moments, trying to convince herself that this new plan could save her, but she was too shaken and uneasy to think coherently. She got up and went into the kitchen to find Larry boiling four eggs and defrosting bread in the oven.

"This will keep him going, ma'am, until I get back. Keep away from him. I'll be as quick as I can."