1972 - You're Dead Without Money (20 page)

The name of the man lying on the settee was Jim Foils. He had joined Lessing’s investigators as a learner two months ago. With all Lessing’s top investigators concentrating on Larrimore’s house, Nisson had thought it safe to leave Foils to keep an eye on Elliot’s bungalow. He had told him to do nothing but sit behind the shrub and leave it to Ross, parked in a car at the end of the road, to take care of anything that might happen.

Foils’ job was to alert Ross by his transceiver if anyone left the bungalow. But Foils had taken a correspondence course in detective work and was keen. When he saw Vin leave the bungalow he not only alerted Ross, but followed Vin just in case Ross made a box up of it He hadn’t any opinion of Ross’s talents. By doing so he had given himself away to Joey who spotted him sneaking after Vin.

‘He’s coming to the surface now,’ Elliot said. ‘We’ll scare the crap out of him. He doesn’t look as if he has any resistance.’

‘I’ll handle him,’ Vin said viciously. This is right up my alley.’

Foils stirred, moaned, blinked and then half sat up. When he found himself staring into Vin’s hard, vicious face, he shrank back, catching his breath in horror. Vin caught hold of Foils’ shirtfront, lifted him slightly and shook him.

‘Okay, rat . . . what were you doing out there?’ he snarled.

Foils’ mind spun like a top. ‘When in a tight corner, his correspondence course had told him, act cool, bluff and show no sign of fear.’ Strictly against this advice, Foils quaked with fear, couldn’t get his brain to work and just gazed with horror at the menacing figure bending over him.

‘Don’t hurt me . . .’ he finally managed to splutter.

‘Hurt you?’ Vin snarled. ‘I’m going to tear your goddamn arm off and beat you to death with it!’

‘Strictly B movie dialogue,’ Elliot said disapprovingly. ‘We don’t have to do that. What we can do is to put burning cigarettes on his naked feet. It’s an old Japanese custom and it works fine.’

Foils looked as if he were going to faint. Vin let go of him and stepped back. Foils huddled on the settee, staring up at the two men, quivering and wishing he had remained a grocer’s assistant and hadn’t been crazy enough to volunteer to be one of Lessing’s investigators.

‘Yeah,’ Vin said. ‘I dig that. Let’s do it.’ He grabbed hold of one of Foils’ feet and dragged off his shoe and sock. Into Foils’ panic-stricken mind came the heading of Chapter Six of his correspondence course: If subject to torture, remember your loyalty to your boss always comes first. A top class investigator never talks.

He fervently wished the writer of this course was now in his position. He was ready to bet the creep would sing like a canary.

‘I’ll talk,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I’ll tell you anything you want to know!’

Vin sneered.

‘Yeah? Well, let’s try a little burning first’ He took a cigarette from his pack and lit it.

‘Hold it,’ Elliot said. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

‘Just let me mash this on his foot,’ Vin said. ‘It’ll loosen him up.’

‘Keep smoking. You can have a go at him if he doesn’t come clean. There’s no point in having to carry this punk out of here. Once you start on him he won’t be able to walk for weeks.’

Foils shuddered.

‘Why are you tailing us?’ Elliot demanded.

Foils had been warned by Nisson that if the suspects got an idea that they were being watched not only would he lose his job but Nisson would also lose his, but Foils was too scared by now to think up a convincing lie and seeing Vin was itching to burn him, he said in a quavering voice, ‘I was only acting on instructions.’

‘Who are you working for?’

‘The Lessing Agency.’

Elliot knew of the agency which was the best and the most expensive in the City.

‘What are your instructions?’

‘Just to watch you all . . . see where you go . . . what you do and make reports.’

‘Why?’

Foils licked his dry lips and hesitated.

‘Let me just mash this cigarette on his foot,’ Vin said. ‘Just once. He needs loosening up,’ and he started forward.

Foils’ eyes popped wide open.

‘No . . . no! They think you’re going to break into Mr. Larrimore’s house. They plan to catch you as you come out.’

‘Who are they?’ Elliot asked.

‘Mr. Lessing and his investigators.’

‘How many of them are on the job?’

‘Six now . . . before they found where you are living, they had about thirty men looking for you.’

Elliot and Vin exchanged looks.

‘Are you anything to do with the C.I.A.?’ Elliot asked.

‘The C.I.A.? No, sir. I just work for Mr. Lessing.’

‘Who hired Lessing to watch us?’

‘I don’t know.’ Then seeing Vin’s menacing move forward, he repeated in a shriller voice, ‘I swear I don’t know!’

Elliot decided he was telling the truth. Why should a punk like this be told the names of Lessing’s clients?
Thirty men looking for you
, Foils had said. At Lessing’s rates an operation on this scale would cost a lot of money.

‘Who’s Lessing’s most important client? You must know that,’ Elliot said.

‘I don’t know. We’re never told anything about anyone who hires us. I’d tell you if I knew.’

With an impatient snort, Vin flicked hot ash on Foils’ bare foot. Foils reared up as if he had been touched by a red-hot iron.

‘Don’t do it!’ His voice cracked. ‘I’ve heard them talking about someone, but he mightn’t even be a client. I just heard a name.’

‘What name?’ Elliot asked.

‘I heard Nisson and Ross talking. They talked about a man called Herman Radnitz who lives at the Belvedere Hotel.’

Radnitz!

Elliot stiffened. His mind went back to a big cocktail party thrown by the Vice President of M.G.M. when he was on vacation in Paradise City. Elliot, along with four hundred other celebrities, had been invited. The one man who had made an impression on him among all the rich and the famous had been a toad like, fat financier who someone had told him was the most important wheeler-dealer in the world. His name had stuck: Herman Radnitz. ‘A man who has dealings with the Soviet Union,’ his informer had told him. ‘Come to that: he has dealings with every foreign government and is on first name terms with the President.’

Concealing his excitement, Elliot asked, ‘Who are Nisson and Ross?’

‘They lead the investigation . . . Ross is out there in the car.’

Vin was listening to all this with growing impatience.

‘Let’s set about this creep. He’s got more up his jersey than he’s spilling.’

Elliot was satisfied. He shook his head.

‘Get your sock and shoe on,’ he said to Foils. ‘I could turn you over to the police, but I’m not going to. You keep your mouth shut and I’ll keep mine shut. Go ahead and watch us. We’re doing nothing wrong and we have no intention of breaking into Larrimore’s house. That’s someone’s pipe dream. You start something and I’ll start something. Okay?’

‘Are you letting this creep go?’ Vin asked, gaping at Elliot ‘That’s right. Let him watch us. What have we to worry about?’ Elliot turned slightly so Foils couldn’t see and winked at Vin.

Vin, baffled, moved to the door and unlocked it.

‘Get the hell out of here!’ he snarled at Foils.

Scared witless, Foils bolted down the passage and out into the garden.

Elliot regarded Vin.

‘I think he gave it away,’ he said. ‘Herman Radnitz. There’s no one in this City except him who could offer a million for those Russian stamps. He has dealings with Russia. He fits, but now I want to find out why he wants these stamps so badly.’

‘Who cares as long as he pays out?’

‘He’s big time and dangerous. He could put you on the ball of his thumb and make a smear of you on a wall.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Vin sneered. ‘Rich punks don’t scare me.’

‘There are times, Vin, when I despair of you.’ Elliot moved to the door. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Hey, wait a minute! Are you seeing this guy tomorrow?’

‘No. I have to be sure he really is the one who wants the stamps. At the moment, I’m guessing. Then I’ll have to think of a way to handle the deal.’

‘What’s so tough about it?’ Vin demanded impatiently. ‘You go to him, tell him you have the stamps, you want a million, get the money and give him the stamp. What’s wrong with that? If you don’t want to handle it, I’ll handle it!’

‘As I said, there are times when I despair of you,’ Elliot said and left the room.

Eight

T
he following morning, Elliot joined Joey and Cindy for breakfast. Vin was still in bed. Both Joey and Cindy were intensely curious about what had happened the previous night and Elliot told them.

‘I feel pretty certain Radnitz is our man,’ he concluded, ‘but before I approach him I must find out just why the C.I.A. are interested in these stamps. To get the C.I.A. after us would be serious.’ He looked over at Cindy. ‘Can you remember who signed the circular letter you found with the stamps?’

‘Lee Humphrey,’ Cindy told him. ‘It was a rubber stamp signature.’

‘Right. You and I are going to Miami this morning. Well take the Alfa. If you drive, the chances are no one will spot me.’

‘Why Miami, Don?’

‘I’m calling Washington and it could be traced,’ Elliot said. ‘When dealing with the C.I.A. you can’t be too careful. I’ll call from a hotel.’

All this worried Joey, but he said nothing. At least, he told himself, Elliot seemed to know what he was doing.

Soon after 10.00, Elliot and Cindy left the bungalow. Joey had been told not to tell Vin where they were going. It wasn’t until 10.30 that Vin made his appearance.

Vin had spent most of the night thinking. If Elliot was to be believed, he (Vin) now knew the name of the buyer and where to contact him. He also knew the stamps were in a safe deposit box in a bank. He was sure both Cindy and Joey knew in which bank.

He came into the living room to find Joey preparing to go out. He paused, looking suspiciously at him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To get lunch.’ Joey was a little fearful of Vin. Gone were the days when he could relax with him. ‘Anything I can get you?’

‘Where are the other two?’

‘They’ve gone out. Do you fancy a steak for lunch?’

‘Gone out?’ Vin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where have they gone?’

‘Taking a day off on the beach,’ Joey said and started towards the door.

Vin caught hold of his arm and swung him around. The vicious expression on his face scared Joey.

‘Don’t feed me that crap!’ he snarled. ‘Where have they gone?’

‘They said to the beach and they wouldn’t be back for lunch,’ Joey said feebly. His lying wouldn’t have convinced a child.

Vin pointed to a chair.

‘Sit down!’

‘Not now, Vin. I’ve got to buy the lunch,’ Joey said desperately. ‘I’m late as it is.’

‘Sit down!’ Vin repeated and there was a look in his eyes that turned Joey’s legs weak. He sat down.

‘Where are the stamps, Joey?’

Joey licked his dry lips.

‘I don’t know. Don handled them. He didn’t tell me.’

‘You’d better know, Joey,’ Vin said viciously. ‘Where are they?’

‘All I know is they’re in a bank,’ Joey said, flinching at the expression on Vin’s face.

‘What bank?’

‘He didn’t tell me.’

‘Listen, you stupid old creep, Elliot didn’t take the stamps to the bank. He’s too scared to show his face on main street. Either you or Cindy took them,’ Vin snarled. ‘You think I’m a dope? Now, listen, I want those stamps and I’m going to have them. I’m going to show you something.’ He took from his pocket a small blue bottle with a rubber stopper. ‘Know what this is?’

Joey eyed the bottle the way a snake eyes a mongoose.

‘No . . .’

‘I’ll tell you,’ Vin said. ‘It’s sulphuric acid.’ Joey wasn’t to know the bottle contained harmless eye drops. He stared at the bottle, his eyes growing round. ‘You’re going to give me those stamps,’ Vin went on. ‘You’re going to the bank right away and you’re going to bring them back here. I’ve had all I’m going to take from you three jerks. I want the stamps or Cindy will lose her looks. Don’t kid yourself, Joey. Neither you nor Elliot can protect her. Okay, maybe for a few days, but you can’t live with her all the time and sooner or later I’ll catch up with her. One flick of my wrist and she gets this little lot in her face. Have you ever seen acid burns?’

Joey felt a cold sickness creep over him. He stared at Vin, his heart beating so fast he felt suffocated.

‘I’m not bluffing, Joey. Get the stamps. I won’t tell you a second time.’

‘You - you wouldn’t do that to Cindy,’ Joey said huskily.

‘Get the stamps. I’ll wait here. I’ll give you two hours. If in two hours you’re not back, I’m leaving, but I’ll be around. I promise you one thing, if you don’t bring the stamps back, Cindy gets it within a week or so. That’s a promise! Now, get off!’

Suddenly Joey felt a wave of relief run through him. When Vin had the stamps, he would leave the bungalow and they would be rid of him. Not only rid of him, but the operation would be abortive. He didn’t want all this money. He had never wanted to take such a risk. He would explain to Cindy just why he had handed over the stamps and she would understand. With any luck, they would get rid of Elliot too and would then be able to settle down once again to their old life. It was a good life, Joey told himself. Maybe in a few years’ time, Cindy would find a decent man and they would get married.

All right . . . she had said she was in love with Elliot, but once Elliot was off the scene, she would forget him.

‘I’m going,’ Joey said. ‘I’ll get the stamps. You just wait here.’

With an almost jaunty step, he left the bungalow.

Through the window, Vin watched him go. Joey’s sudden change of attitude baffled him.

‘The old goat’s nutty,’ he thought. ‘Goddamn it! He looks almost happy!’

Shrugging, he crossed the room and picked up the telephone book. He found the number of the Belvedere hotel and dialed it.

‘Put me through to Mr. Radnitz,’ he said when the receptionist came on the line.

There was a delay, then Holtz, who took all incoming calls, said, ‘Mr. Herman Radnitz’s secretary.’