The Strange Story of Linda Lee (34 page)

The hour seemed never-ending, but at last there came a knock at the door. Linda called ‘Come in.’ The door opened. She caught a glimpse of the nurse in the passage, then the door closed again as her visitor stepped briskly into the room.

He was a tall, thin man, probably about forty, Linda thought, as his face looked youngish although his hair was grey and thinning. His forehead was high, his nose prominent. Perched on it was a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles. The lower features completed a strong, intellectual face and his clothes were in keeping with it: a well-cut, grey lounge suit, a scrupulously clean, faintly-patterned collar and shirt and, one splash of colour, a royal-blue silk tie.

For a moment he studied Linda, his face expressionless. Her face and voice were equally so as she asked, ‘What do you want with me?’

He smiled then, and it was a pleasant smile. ‘I am
here on behalf of a person of considerable importance who has become interested in you.’

‘Indeed!’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you that person?’

‘Dear me, no. I’m only a fairly high-up cog in his machine. Nobody even knows his real name. He is spoken of simply as “The Top”.’

Reassured now that her visitor’s intentions were not of the kind she had feared, Linda smiled. ‘This all sounds very mysterious.’

‘It would to you, so perhaps I’d better explain. No doubt you have heard of Al Capone?’

‘Vaguely. Wasn’t he a big-time gang leader? But years ago. Long before I was born.’

‘That’s so. For years he controlled all the rackets here in Chicago. Well, The Top is the modern equivalent of Al Capone, although, of course, he is a very different type of person. Capone was a lower-class Italian born in Brooklyn. The Top is a highly-cultured gentleman. It is said that way back in the war he was a big shot in either our C.I.A. or the British M.I.6. Anyhow, there is little he doesn’t know about the workings of the F.B.I. and Security Services. You may have heard the expression “Top Secret”. That’s why he’s called “The Top”. After the war he devoted his talents to what, as a lawyer, I would term “illegal activities”. And he has built an empire out of the criminal elements in a great part of the United States. Very few people actually know him, but thousands of dope pedlars, brothel-keepers, bank robbers and every sort of hoodlum pay him tribute; so he is immensely rich and his word is law. Now, may I sit down?’

‘Of course, please do. I should have asked you to before.’ As the lawyer lowered himself into the armchair
and crossed his long legs, Linda went on, ‘All this sounds frightfully like a “thriller”; but lots of people do seem to think that modern crime is organised by a few big brains that no-one would even dream were connected with that sort of thing. All the same, I can’t think why this Mr. Top should have become interested in me.’

‘It is your good fortune that he happened to see you.’

‘When did he do that?’

‘He chanced to be dining at the Lido the night before last, when you dined there with Marco Mancini before he took you to that house.’

‘Marco! That little swine! I’d give a lot for the chance to pay him out for having sold me into that ghastly place.’

‘You needn’t worry. He’s been rapped, and hard, for acting contrary to standing orders. The job of these dirty little ponces is to pick up lower-class girls who are more or less on the rocks. Most of them have run away to the big city from homes in small towns, so they have no family or rich friends to worry about what has become of them. They may create a scene or two to start with, but they soon resign themselves to life in a brothel. Women like yourself are different. They nearly always make trouble. In your case you caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage and, still worse, led to a house that was paying well having to be written off. Marco knew damn’ well that you were not the type that he could sell down the river without the risk of burning his fingers; but I suppose he was tempted by the big money he could get for a girl with your looks.’

‘I see.’ Linda smiled. ‘Well, it’s good to know that little rat is now paying for his mistake, but …’ Linda’s smile changed to a frown. ‘What about your Mr. Top?
Having seen me, I suppose he took a fancy to me and has sent you to collect me for his harem.’

The lawyer laughed. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. I take it you have heard of Cherril Chanel?’

‘The film star? Yes, of course.’

‘Has it ever struck you that you are very like her?’

Linda hesitated. ‘Well, I suppose I am in a way. But she is blonde, whereas I am a brunette.’

‘That is easily remedied. Anyway, when The Top saw you at the Lido, he was immediately struck by the resemblance. At the moment, Cherril is on vacation with her latest boy friend in the Fijis. But she might quite well suddenly have had enough of him and fly in to Chicago. For a few days you are going to impersonate her. At least, I hope so.’

‘Why does this man Top wish me to do that?’

‘It is a matter of getting some highly secret documents over the border into Canada. The Top has a big organisation there as well as in the States; but for a year or more he has been having a lot of trouble with a rival group there, and he has decided that it would pay him better to sell out than start a really bloody gang war. These documents are leases of many properties, lists of sources of income and pay rolls of his people, which he is turning over to the other side. The Feds know that this deal is about to take place, so they are watching like hawks everyone here who has either a criminal record or is suspect. If these papers fell into wrong hands, not only could Canadian police smash the biggest crime ring in Canada, but the Feds would have leads to many people back here; perhaps even to The Top himself. So you see they have got to be taken through by somebody who is absolutely above suspicion.’

‘Why can’t you smuggle them across the lake by night in a fast motor launch?’

‘That has been considered. But it is too risky. If the launch was caught by a patrol boat, the game would be up. No, they’ve got to be carried through Customs by some well-known person who will be bowed through with smiles, while the Press boys take photographs. Cherril Chanel could do it and, posing as her, so could you.’

‘What happens if something went wrong and I was caught?’

The lawyer smiled a little wryly. ‘That would be just too bad. You could swear that the stuff had been planted on you without your knowledge. But it would be bound to come out that you weren’t the real Cherril Chanel. So they wouldn’t believe you, and the odds are you would be sent down for a term of years.’

‘Then why should I take that risk?’

‘Because for you it is the better alternative.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Exactly what happened in that house run by old Lottie Finkestein no-one will ever know—unless you tell them. When the Negro’s body was recovered, it was simply a charred corpse. How you succeeded in knocking him out I just can’t think. But I take my hat off to you for it, and when The Top was told he thought it one of the best jokes he’d ever heard. He doesn’t even hold against you what the fire has cost him. But the Negro’s death is neither here nor there. The thing that does concern you is a matter of arson.’

The lawyer paused and lit a cigarette. Then he went on in a very level, quiet voice, ‘If Lottie hadn’t been so impatient to get back some of the dough she had paid for you and sent the Negro up to break you in last
night, The Top would have had you out of her place and brought here this morning, because he had already made up his mind to make use of you.

‘This sanatorium, of course, is owned by him. It has a variety of uses. If any of his people are wounded in a gun battle, they are brought here and taken good care of until they are well again. There are cases when it is desirable to take certain people out of circulation for a while. They are brought here to relax pleasantly in rooms on the upper floor that have barred windows. Hence, too, the high wall that you may have noticed surrounding the property. Anyway, as Marco could not be found and questioned about who you were until too late, we had to have you collected from the hospital. But we can send you back there and no questions will be asked.’

‘And what would happen then?’ Linda enquired.

‘Now that you are well enough, the police would take you into custody and you would be charged with arson. Officially, as far as the police are concerned, Lottie’s place is a respectable rooming house. Marco would give evidence that he took you there at your own request because you were looking for a cheaper lodging. That he called on you the second evening you were there and found you quarrelling with old Lottie. You accused her of having stolen some money that you had left under your mattress when you went out that afternoon. She, of course, would give evidence to that effect. Both of them will say that you were drunk and swore you would get even with her. A few hours later a fire starts in your room. Presumably you started it and meant to get out; but you were drunk, made a mess of things and the flames spread so quickly that they reached the door before you could get to it. I won’t go
into all the details, but plenty of supporting evidence will be given. When The Top gives orders for a case to be brought against anyone who has crossed him, the verdict is a foregone conclusion. You may bet your last buck that you’ll get at least two years in the can.’

‘Then it looks as though I’m likely to be sent to prison anyway.’

‘Oh, no! You certainly will be if you refuse to do as you are told. But, if you play along, the odds are a thousand to one against it. By the time it’s emerged that Cherril Chanel has never left Fiji, you will have disappeared. You will have a brand-new wardrobe, and The Top is no penny-pincher to people he employs. On completion of the job you will be given two thousand bucks with which to make your get-away, and as a sweetener towards forgetting that you had ever heard of The Top. If it ever came to his ears that you had talked about your very temporary association with his affairs, although you don’t know enough to do him any harm I wouldn’t give you more than a month to live.’

‘I see. And whereabouts in Canada would I have to go?’

‘To the capital, Ottawa.’

Linda considered the matter, but it did not take her long. She knew that she would not stand an earthly chance in the sort of case that a man like The Top could bring against her. She had never been in Ottawa, and golden hair would greatly alter her appearance. Two thousand dollars was over eight hundred pounds, and she was to get a new wardrobe of expensive clothes into the bargain. The risk was small, and it meant a new start, with enough money to keep her comfortably for several months.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll take those papers through for you.’

‘Fine,’ he smiled. ‘Marco told us you were staying at the Sherman House, so we’ve paid your bill there and sent a forged note authorising us to collect your things. I’ll have the nurse measure you for others, then tomorrow I’ll come out here with them and give you your instructions.’

Without wasting further words, he stood up, wished her a pleasant ‘good night’ and walked out of the room.

Shortly afterwards the nurse came in and took her measurements, brought her, at her request, another half-bottle of champagne, then left her to her own devices. While drinking the champagne, Linda conned over this extraordinary new development which, unless she was very unlucky, would rescue her from poverty and anxiety and set her on her feet again. At ten o’clock she was still wondering if it would be best for her to endeavour to find a steady job in Ottawa and go to earth there, or try to get out of Canada, perhaps down to South America, when the nurse came in once more and gave her a ‘sleeper’. She fell asleep more relaxed in mind than she had been for a long time past.

Next morning she was allowed to have a bath. Her calves and backside were red and tender, but had ceased itching. She lunched in bed and, not long after she had finished, the lawyer arrived. With him he brought a dressmaker and a hairdresser.

The latter flattened Linda’s hair on top of her head with some glutinous substance which he said would easily wash off, then fitted her with a pale-gold wig dressed in the same style as Cherill Chanel was wearing her hair in a recent photograph. He next partially shaved her eyebrows, added tiny pieces to them which
gave them a slightly different slant, tinted them and her eyelashes; then, satisfied with his work, handed her over to the dressmaker.

Meanwhile the lawyer had brought in four expensive air-travel suitcases, bearing the initials C.C. One of them, to Linda’s relief, contained her mink coat and few possessions. The others held a variety of dresses, shoes and lingerie. Over another hour went by while the ready-made clothes were fitted, then the dressmaker took them away to make the necessary minor alterations. Linda got into bed again and the lawyer came back into the room.

Sitting down in the armchair, he said, ‘Now I must make it clear that in our business we take no chances. Everyone is suspect and a check kept on them by someone else. Cherril would naturally have a personal maid with her. So will you. Her name is Gerta Hoffman. She is unknown in Chicago and we’ve brought her up from New York specially for this job.

‘Presently I shall take you to the airport. Gerta will have the tickets and it will appear that you are only changing planes here, having both just flown in from San Francisco. There would be an hour and a half’s wait between planes. One of our people at the airport will put you in the V.I.P. waiting-room. The time between planes is enough for the Press to learn that you are passing through Chicago. We shall leak it, anyway. So, as you go on board, you will have to face the Press photographers. Smile at them, but you are not to say one word. Gerta will do any talking that is necessary.

‘At Ottawa the Press photographers will be waiting for you. Again you will keep your mouth shut. A suite has been booked for you at the Château Laurier. You
will drive straight there and have supper for both of you sent up to your sitting-room; and so to bed.

‘The following morning a gentleman will call you from the lobby, and ask if he may come up. You will say yes, and Gerta will go out into the corridor. She will remain within call, and within call of her there will be two of our men in Ottawa; one by the lift and the other by the stairs.