An Ace Up My Sleeve (23 page)

He wiped his streaming eyes with his handkerchief, gasped, coughed and then slapped his fat knees.

"That's the understatement of the year," he said. "Learn a lesson, Helga ... never try to bluff with me." He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her: a smirking, triumphant grin that made her heart sink. "In a few minutes, I am leaving for Lugano. I intend to spend a comfortable night at the Eden, then at seven tomorrow I will fly to Lausanne. I don't need to wait for the postman who you are so anxiously waiting for." He became convulsed with laughter again, but this time it wasn't silent. His raucous ha! ha! ha's! were like the thong of a whip cutting her flesh.

She waited, now dangerous fury boiling up inside her. Her hands into fists, she watched him and a feeling grew in her to hurt or even kill him.

Finally, his laughter subsided and again he mopped his eyes.

"You poor fool!" His eyes were now cold and contemptuous. "I never sent those photos to the bank! I was bluffing! They have been in my suitcase all the time!"

The blow was a savage one and it left her breathless. Her mind went back to those moments when she had stopped Larry from beating him up, when he had lied about his bad heart. She thought of Larry making the dangerous fast drive back to Basle, of the three thousand five hundred francs she had paid for the forged signature and of the long, tormenting hours believing that when the postman eventually came, she would be safe.

And all the time the photos had been in his suitcase, lying in the back of his hired car which she had seen, which had been there for the taking!

But now she knew the photos were within reach! He didn't know it yet, but she still held the four aces. She had the gun!

She got slowly to her feet, her handkerchief pressed to her lips.

"I – I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered and started across the room, then as she reached the door, she moved faster. In the hall, she ran frantically to her bedroom, pulled open the closet door, wrenched open the top drawer and her hand closed over the .22 gun.

As she picked up the gun the savage feeling that had been growing in her to kill him again ran through her. If he didn't give her the photographs she would kill him! She didn't give a damn about the consequences! He had made her suffer as she had never thought it possible to suffer! He had sneered and laughed at her! It wouldn't be a shot in the leg ... she would kill him! Her breath was coming through her open mouth in short. hard, rasping gasps. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. But this wouldn't do, she told herself. Shaking, gasping and half out of her mind as she was would make a deadly shot impossible.

"Helga?" Archer called. "Are you all right."

She drew in a long shuddering breath, then again. She steadied herself. Her heart ceased to race but still thumped painfully. Keeping the gun down by her side and out of t, she walked back into the sitting-room.

Archer, sitting in the armchair, regarded her with an amused smile.

"Did you chuck up?" he asked. "I didn't think you were quite so sensitive."

"You will give me the photos," she said in a husky whisper, "or I'll kill you!" She lifted the gun into sight.

"How dramatic you are." He got to his feet. "I'm leaving now. Have a good time in Nassau. Watch out for the boys there, Helga. Don't let Herman catch you at it." He bent to stub out his cigar. "So it is understood? You take the blame for buying the shares and I keep the account?"

"I mean it? Give me the photographs! I don't give a damn what happens to me! Give them to me or I'll kill you!"

He gave a snorting laugh and walked towards the door.

"Attractive as you are, Helga there are times when you bore me," he said as he opened the door.

She aimed the gun at his broad, fat back and with a shudder, she pulled the trigger. Only the snap of the hammer greeted her. He looked around, lifting his eyebrows.

"I'm surprised at you, Helga. A whore ... now a murderess? So you would have done it. I wasn't sure so I took the precaution to find your little toy and unload it. Admit I'm smarter than you. Goodbye. Convince Herman and remember never to try to bluff with me again. I'm a lot better at it than you." She stood motionless, shivering, staring at the empty gun in her hand. She heard the front door slam, then she walked slowly to a chair and sank into it. She heard a car engine start up and the car drive away.

Then she began to weep. She had always thought she was smarter than Archer. She had always been slightly contemptuous of his abilities, but the sonofabitch had beaten her! He had out-bluffed her in every move and now she would have to have him on her neck until Herman died!

She beat on the back of her chair with her fists as she cried in frustration and bitter rage. A slob like that! Now she would have to face Herman and admit she hadn't been capable of handling his money: that she had been responsible for losing two million dollars!

"Ma'am?"

She started, stiffened and looked up. Larry was standing in the doorway.

The shock of seeing him made her speechless. She could only stare at him, fighting back the tearing sobs that were racking her.

"It's all right, ma'am," he said and moving into the room, he dropped a manilla envelope into her lap. "You don't have to cry like that."

With shaking hands, she tore open the flap of the envelope and pulled out two glossy prints: one of her handing money to Friedlander and the other of her naked on the bed with Larry. She peered into the envelope. The negatives were there." "Better burn them right away, ma'am," Larry said. "How did you get them?"

"I knew he was up to something. I wanted you to have them. I pretended to go along with him but I came back and led. I heard him tell you they were in his suitcase. I went to his car and found them."

She picked up a cigarette lighter, flicked the flame into life and held it to the photographs. She dropped the ash into the ash tray, then she did the same with the negatives.

"I'm sorry," she said brokenly, looking at him. "I'm really, Larry, for the way I've behaved."

"That's okay, ma'am." He put the air ticket and the Travellers' cheques in their leather folder on the table. "You were good to me too. This makes us quits. I'm going back to Hamburg. So long, ma'am." She struggled to her feet and caught hold of his arm.

"Don't be stupid, Larry! Take this money and go back to the States! You must! Start a new life! I'll drive you to Milan. I'll give you more money! You don't know what you've done for me! I can never forget it!" He pulled away from her as if her touch was unclean.

"No, thank you, ma'am. I don't want any more help from you." He looked at her and she flinched from the accusing expression in his eyes. "You and Archer are filth to me. I don't like saying this to you, but it's the truth. I didn't know people like you existed. I'm going back to the Army and I'll serve my sentence, then I'll be out in another year. I did this for you because of what you did for me, but I never want to see you again." "You mean you're going back to Ron?"

"Ron is better than you. Yes, I'm going back to him. He doesn't cheat and he's honest."

Helga lifted her hands helplessly.

"All right. I hope you will be happy with him, Larry, and thank you again."

He went to the door, paused, turned and pulled at the peak of his cap. "So long, ma'am. I hope you'll be happy too."

Her mind now was no longer with him. She was drinking of Archer. She would throw him to the wolves. Then Nassau, the sand, the sea and the sun. It would be good to lie in the sun and to think of Archer in the Establissement de l'Orbe in a small cell for at least five years.

She heard the front door shut. After a long pause, she went into the hall and turned the front door key.

The End