An Ace Up My Sleeve (19 page)

Helga's hands turned into fists. She tried to speak but no sound came.

"A bit of a shock? Of course ... let me get you a drink." He heaved himself to his feet and moved to the bar. The usual?" "Where's Larry?" Her voice was a croaking whisper.

"Ah, Larry ... Larry is downstairs. He's a little under the weather, but he's all right." Archer rattled ice cubes in the cocktail shaker. "After all, he's young and tough. Sit down Helga."

She stood motionless, her brain scarcely working as she watched him make the cocktail, pour it with a flourish and bring the glass to an occasional table. "Sit down ... sit down, Helga. I'm afraid you'll have to cook the lunch." He regarded her. "I hope you can cook ... I can't." He sank into his chair and picked up his glass.

"What have you done to him? What happened?" Helga remained motionless. She now had control of herself and was desperately trying to absorb the shock.

"It was really rather simple." Archer sipped his drink, then took his cigar case from his pocket and selected a cigar. "Larry isn't over bright. You have probably noticed that. I listening at the door and I heard your conversation. When you had gone, I called to him. I asked for a cup of coffee. He's young, and the young have too much confidence. He hasn't ever taken me seriously ... his mistake. He brought me a cup of coffee. I hid in the boiler room and as he went to the games room, I sneaked up behind him and hit him on the head with a billiard cue. So easy, Helga, it was almost ridiculous. I came up here, put your ingenious pole in place and that's that."

Slowly, she moved forward and sat down. Her mind refused to work. "Have you hurt him?"

He touched the side of his bruised face gently. "No more than he hurt me."

"I want to go down and see him. You might have injured him seriously."

"You're not going, so shut up!" His voice turned vicious. "I've had about enough of you! He's all right. I just stunned him. He was trying to get to his feet when I reached the hall." He lit his cigar, then went on, "You have the three aces now, Helga ... I have the four."

She was shaking so badly that she had to keep her hands gripped between her knees."

"I see now, Helga, you're damned dangerous," he went on. "I suppose I gave you the idea to forge my signature. Well, tit for tat. So the pansy made a good job of it?"

Helga said nothing.

"Well, my next move is to telephone the bank and tell them to ignore the letter." Archer got to his feet. "Then we are back on square A." "Wait!"

The snap in her voice made him pause and regard her thoughtfully. "What little trickery is now going on in your mind?"

"I don't intend to be blackmailed! I have had time to think and I have thought. My life with Herman is getting more and more deadly." Helga had control of herself. This was the time to bluff, but it would have to be expert bluff. "Rather than submit to blackmail, I'm prepared to give up my inheritance."

"How dramatic! The dialogue is right out of a Victorian novel," Archer said and smiled. "Not you, Helga. That's something I'll never believe." She shrugged.

"I couldn't care less what you believe or don't believe. I mean it. I intend to have those photographs. If I don't get them, then I'm going to call the police and I will charge you with embezzlement. Go ahead and call your bank ... then I'll call the police."

"Oh come! It's nice bluff but it won't work with me," Archer said but he didn't move to the telephone. "Then I'll call the police and after, you call the bank."

She got up and went to the telephone. She picked up the receiver and began to dial.

He came blundering over and snatched the receiver from her hand.

"Don't be so hasty, Helga." She saw the uneasiness in his eyes. "You haven't touched your drink. Let's sit down like civilized people and discuss this." She realized she had won the first move in the game. She had frightened him. Her face expressionless, she went back to her chair and sat down. She was pleased that when she picked up her drink, her hand was steady. She sipped and nodded. "Your martinis are always good." He lowered his bulk into his chair.

"Thank you." He studied the end of his cigar. "Suppose I let you have the photographs ... what will be your contribution?"

"I will tell Herman we both speculated and lost and the account must be taken from you."

He shook his head. "No. That's back to square A. Let's move to square B. You take all the blame for the gamble and I keep the account."

It was her turn to shake her head.

"No, Jack. You're through. The only other alternative is you go to jail." "And you lose sixty million dollars?"

"Yes, but I'm prepared to do just that, but are you prepared to spend ten years in jail? What are you now ... forty-eight? No one will want an ex–jailbird at fifty–eight, will they?"

She watched him lick his lips.

"You're very persuasive, Helga," he said finally, "but I simply don't believe you. You were always a good bluffer but you're not bluffing me."

"Then call the bank, Jack, and I'll call the police ... it's as simple as that."

"Suppose we move to square C?" Archer said, studying the end of his cigar. "I told you: without Herman's account I am in financial trouble. I owe money everywhere and I'm being pressed. I would like to go back to the States. I could make a start. Now suppose I give you the photographs and give up the account and in return you give me a substantial sum of money so I can clear my debts and make a fresh start back home? What do you say?" "I will not submit to blackmail," Helga said quietly.

"You could afford two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Helga. For that sum you get the photographs and the negatives and eventually you'll collect sixty million dollars. Come Helga, that's a fair bargain."

She reached for a cigarette and lit it, then she sipped her drink.

"And where do you imagine I'd find two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"

"Any Swiss bank would lend you that against Herman's securities. He needn't know."

She shook her head.

"You have made a mistake, Jack. You should never have picked on me to blackmail. I'm not the blackmailing type. This morning as I lay in bed, I thought about my possible future. I discovered I am utterly bored and sick of Herman. I want my freedom. I want to be able to take a lover when I need one. I thought about all the money. Sixty million? It's too much. I wouldn't know what to do with such an enormous sum. Then I worked out what I would be worth if Herman divorced me and I was pleasantly surprised. I find I wouldn't be badly off if he threw me out." She was lying steadily and she hoped convincingly. "There are things you don't know. For instance you don't know that Herman gave me for my last birthday bonds that will bring me in an income of ten thousand dollars a year. (A lie.) He gave me for my birthday before last a cottage in Carmel where I could live very happily and comfortably. (Another lie.) I have two hundred thousand dollars worth of jewellery. (True.) I have five fur coats: all valuable. (Also true.) I have a car and a motor cruiser. (Again true.) Herman also gave me a Picasso which is worth at least a hundred thousand. (A lie there was no Picasso.) If I sell carefully and invest carefully, I will have an assured income of thirty thousand dollars for life, plus a cottage. (God! she thought, how I wish all this was true!) So I have come to the conclusion that it might be good to be rid of Herman so the answer to square C as you put it, is no."

He stared at her for a long moment and she met his eyes without flinching. "Do you really mean that, Helga? You're not bluffing?"

"No, I'm not bluffing." She finished her drink. "I think I would like another, please."

His set face relaxed a little.

"Let's both have another." He went over to the bar.

"You see, Helga," he said as he mixed the cocktail, "if you really mean all you've been saying, then I'll be forced to move to square D. I don't want to do that, but if you're not bluffing, then I'll have to."

The tone of his voice and the expression on his fat face made Helga alert. "And what is square D?" she asked.

"I will sell the photograph of you showing everything you've got to Herman."

She kept the expression of her face deadpan with an effort. "And do you imagine he will buy it?"

"Yes, I think he would if I threatened, unless he did, I'll send it to the pornographers. As a dirty postcard it would have a very wide sale." 

Inwardly she flinched.

"And in the meantime you would be in jail?"

"I don't think so. I have also been doing some thinking. I have an idea that Herman wouldn't prosecute if I convinced him that on a dirty postcard his wife would be quite a star attraction."

She forced herself to brazen it out. 

"Then you don't know Herman. He would divorce me and not only prosecute you for embezzling but also for blackmail. You could go to jail for twenty years."

Archer shrugged.

"Desperate situations need desperate measures. I think Herman would play. The last thing he would want would be to know his cronies were sniggering over your pretty nakedness."

There came a sudden thudding sound from the hall that brought Archer to his feet. Helga also stood up. Then Archer smiled.

"Your pimp trying to break out," he said and sat down again. "That's something he won't do. That pole was a bright idea of yours, Helga. It is strong enough to pen in a bull. I know ... I've tried."

Still standing, she stubbed out her cigarette. Her mind was working swiftly. She knew she was caught unless she could find another way out. She was sure Herman would pay rather than let the photograph go into circulation. Archer would get his money and his freedom and she would lose everything! Her bluff had failed!

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Larry bawled through the door.

"Don't move, Helga," Archer said, stretching out his long, thick legs. "Never mind about him. Sit down. What do you think of square D?"

She picked up her drink.

"Ma'am!" Larry's voice crashed into the room.

She braced herself, then taking a quick step forward she threw the contents of her glass in Archer's face. Spinning around, she darted into the hall. She threw herself against the pole. It shuddered but held. She heard a roar of rage from Archer and as she heaved frantically at the pole, he came blundering out. The vodka was stinging his eyes and he was half blind. She dodged around the pole, caught hold of it and pulled with all her strength. She felt it shift as Archer struck at her. His fist thudded into her shoulder, sending her staggering back, but somehow, she kept her grip on the pole. It came with her. She sprawled on the floor, the pole on top of her.

The door crashed open and Larry charged out. Archer was frantically wiping his eyes clear with his handkerchief. Larry went for him. The two men crashed together: Archer's fingers at Larry's face and Larry's great fists smashing into Archer's body.

Helga threw the pole from her and she scrambled to her feet. She could hear Archer's sobbing gasps and saw his knees sagging as Larry's fists, moving like pistons, thudded into Archer's fat body.

Archer's legs sagged and he went down on his knees. Larry stepped back, then hit Archer on the side of his jaw. Helga flinched and shut her eyes. To her, it was a terrible blow: a blow that could kill.

When she looked again, Archer was flat on his back, unconscious. His chest was heaving and blood trickled down his nostrils. The skin along his jaw had split and was bleeding.

"No more!" Helga cried. "Don't ... don't ...!"

Muttering to himself, Larry caught hold of Archer's ankles and dragged him to the cellar doorway. Then walking backwards down the stairs, he dragged Archer after him. The sound of Archer's head thumping on each stair made Helga feel faint. She went limply into the sitting-room and flopped on the settee. She lay there with her hands to her face, fighting off the feeling of faintness that threatened her.

Time ceased to exist. She felt she was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. Then she felt a hand touch her gently. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

She took her hands from her face. Larry was bending over her, concern and worry in his eyes.

"Yes." She looked helplessly up at him. "Did he hurt you?"

"It's okay. I asked for it. You stay right there, ma'am. I'll get you a cup of tea."

"I don't want anything. Is he all right?"

Larry fingered the back of his head.

"Oh, sure. I wouldn't have believed it. I didn't think he would have had the guts. He didn't telephone the bank?"

"No."

"I was scared he would do that."

"I stopped him."

His warm, friendly smile was comforting.

"Well, you've got guts, ma'am. I thought he'd really fixed us."

"I did, too."

He straightened.

"I guess all that excitement has made me hungry. I'll get lunch. Some food will do you good."

"No! I'll lie on my bed. I just want to stay quiet. You go ahead, Larry."

His look of concern returned. "You're feeling bad, ma'am?"

Her fare worked as she tried to control her tears. She nodded. He bent and scooped her up effortlessly and carried her into her bedroom. The feel of his hands around her waist and thighs started her blood moving hotly through her body. She relaxed against him. The faint smell of his body sweat, the hardness of his chest against her face, his thorough maleness sent sensuous waves of desire through her. He lowered her on to the bed and gently took off her shoes.

"You rest, ma'am," he said and going to the window, he pulled the drapes, shutting out the sunshine. "You just take it easy."

"You're a wonderful comfort to me, Larry," she said, watching him as he moved to the door. "Thank you."

He smiled.

"You take it easy."

He left the room, closing the door after him.