The Toff and the Kidnapped Child (12 page)

If Kane used this apartment when he was not at home, was his liaison with Leah more permanent than Eve realised? If Kane lived here, did he know Max and Felix, and had he been a party to the kidnapping?

The thoughts were racing through Rollison's mind as he searched the apartment, finding nothing that helped him; no money, no papers, no letters, nothing except the photograph to point to the identity of the tenant. He had finished, and was trying to weigh the situation up when he heard a man approaching up the stairs.

 

 

Rollison stepped swiftly behind the door, waiting with increasing tension; there was a possibility that this man was going to pass the door, but it was not likely, and he did not think that the footsteps were those of either of the brothers. The man reached the landing, and came straight on. Outside there was a crash as if two cars had jolted together, and someone cried out, but Rollison had no time to think of that. He flattened himself against the wall, and dropped his right hand to his pocket.

A key was thrust into the lock.

The lock turned, and the door was pushed back slowly; it did not touch Rollison. A man stepped in, keeping his back to Rollison, and closed the door. A glance towards the right would be all that was needed; but he took the normal course when a door opened as this one did, and went further into the room.

He was taller than Rollison had expected, he had a lean figure, and he moved well. His hair was much greyer than Rollison had expected, too; silvery grey hair which waved a little, like the popular conception of an actor's. He thrust one hand into his pocket and jingled some coins, and went to the window. He stood looking out for a few seconds, the coins still jingling, upright, immaculate, the suit of pale grey that he was wearing looking as if it had been made by the world's best tailor. So far, Rollison had not been able to see his face, except for a glimpse of his profile; he had only the photograph to judge by, and he expected to see a very good-looking man.

Then, Kane turned round.

Rollison had moved forward a little, without a sound, and was watching closely. He saw how right he was to have expected someone good-looking; this man was strikingly handsome.

Kane saw him, started violently, and raised his hands towards his chest, as if he expected an assault. He was older than Rollison had realised: in the early fifties. He stood with arms extended as if in boxing pose, mouth a little slack. The shock which had showed so clearly in his eyes faded; and the fact that Rollison made no move against him obviously took away his fear.

Rollison said: “Good evening, Mr Kane.”

Kane said in a low-pitched voice: “Are you Richard Rollison?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Kane pressed a hand against his forehead, and that gesture was remarkably like Eve's when she had been so tired, and when she had not known what to do. “I see,” he repeated, and moved forward slowly. “They're always right. Always. Sometimes I think—”

He broke off.

“Who are always right?” asked Rollison.

“The Leonis,” Kane answered. “Max and Felix Leoni.” He pressed his hand against his forehead again, and went on: “They told me an hour ago that you would probably be in touch with me during the day. They always seem to know exactly what is going to happen – it's almost uncanny. I suppose it's what is called a sixth sense.”

This man was tired, and worried; he was no middle-aged Lothario, buoyant and confident in his attractiveness to women, certainly no lady-killer – if he could be judged from his appearance now. He was a jaded, worried man, Rollison realised, and did not quite know why that surprised him so much.

“What else did they tell you?” asked Rollison.

Kane moved towards a cabinet on one wall, opened a cupboard, and showed an array of bottles and glasses. He took out whisky, a syphon of soda and two glasses. His movements were smooth and easy; twenty years ago he must have been not only handsome but remarkably agile; the eligible bachelor of any girl's dream. Instead of answering, he said: “What will you have?”

“Whisky will be fine,” said Rollison.

Kane poured out, picked up soda, and said mechanically: “Say when.” He brought Rollison the drink, then raised his glass to his lips; he didn't say a word more, but drank as if he were in urgent need of the stimulant. Rollison certainly was.

Then Kane said: “They told me that you would be here, and gave me a message for you.”

It was easy to understand why he thought that the Leoni brothers had a sixth sense. It was easy to see, too, that he had taken the strong whisky and soda so as to brace himself; and now he looked straight into Rollison's eyes, his own shadowy; in that way, remarkably like Eve's. “They told me that unless you kept away from the police, and away from my wife, they would kill my daughter. And you've got to stay away, Rollison; you mustn't take any risk with Caroline's life.”

Rollison said: “Well, well,” and finished his drink. “So they're as frightened as that.”

“They're frightened? What the devil do you mean?”

“If they weren't, they wouldn't throw that kind of threat about.”

“You're wrong, Rollison,” Kane said, very tensely. “You, and anyone else who underestimates the Leonis, is quite wrong. You've got to give up. You've got to leave me to work this out with my wife. It's essentially a family matter, and it won't help if you or the police become involved, in fact it will do terrible harm. They've part of what they want, now – twenty thousand pounds. They'll try to get more. But if the worst came to the worst they would kill Caroline, and get out of the country with the money they have already.”

“You're more wrong than I am,” Rollison said.

Kane moved towards the largest armchair, and sat on the arm of it, adjusted the line of his trousers, swung his leg a little, and then said: “I don't care what reputation you have; I don't care how clever you think you are. You can't get the Leonis at the risk of my daughter's life. You've got to give up, Rollison. Where is my wife?”

“At my flat, under doctor's orders,” Rollison answered, “and in good hands.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that you mean well and will do the best you can,” said Kane, still very tensely, “but you aren't equipped to handle men like the Leonis. You probably think that they have some decent qualities because they can be so smooth and pleasant. You couldn't be more wrong. They are murderous killers, they have absolutely no compunction, and if it would pay them to kill Caroline, or me or you, they would kill.”

Rollison said quietly: “So we daren't let them get away with this.”

“Yes, we can,” barked Kane. “And we must. I've got to get my daughter back.” He narrowed his eyes as he stood up, still speaking in a very level voice, and giving the impression that he meant every word. He poured himself another drink and tossed it down, then went on: “I don't know how much my wife has told you. I know she has been pretty strung up lately, living on her nerves, and it wouldn't surprise me if she had told you the truth – or her side of it. There might be one or two things that would surprise you, and even surprise her.” He sounded very bitter. “I'd rather lose my own life than take any risks with Caroline's. Caroline is the one real thing salvaged out of the wreck of our marriage. Oh, she's Eve's child; I wouldn't make the slightest attempt to get her away, any more than I am prepared to take any risks with her life. I know these men too well.” He shivered, as if he were looking upon horror. “Have you told the police about the money?”

“Not yet.”

For the first time a glint appeared in Kane's eyes, as if he were both relieved and glad to hear that.

“And you're not going to,” he declared, and put the empty glass down. “I know exactly what the Leonis want, and they're going to get it.”

“What do they want?” asked Rollison.

“Fifty thousand pounds,” Kane answered.

“Your wife's money?”

“Yes.”

“You're very generous with it.”

“If it were a hundred thousand it would make little or no difference to her.”

“It's still her money.”

“And it's our child.”

“Why didn't you tell her about this when you found out what they wanted?”

“I don't have to explain my actions to you, although I might have to Eve,” Kane said slowly, “but you may as well know how this developed. I got to know the Leonis through Leah Soloman, the girl you saw here. They discovered that my wife was a wealthy woman. They tried to blackmail me, over Leah. They came to realise that I really hadn't any money of my own. They suggested that I should get a large sum from my wife, saying that if I didn't get it for them, they would injure Caroline. I refused.” He pressed his hand against his forehead again. “I not only refused, but said that I would go to the police. You see,” he added, and there was an ugly twist to his lips, “I didn't know the Leonis then. I wish to God I had. It might have saved Caroline from this horror—” He broke off. “Never mind that. I've told you enough to show that I mean exactly what I say.”

“How well do you know the Leonis now?” asked Rollison quietly.

“I've seen Caroline,” Kane answered. “I've seen how ruthless they are. I know they ran down that policeman. I've seen—” He hesitated, and then stood up and clenched his fists and strode towards Rollison, eyes flashing, looking a younger, fiercer man, as if the recollection of what he had seen so horrified him that it gave him a new vigour to fight against it. “I know what they do to other girls.
I tell you, I know what they do!
I didn't realise it until recently, I didn't realise what I was helping them to do. They traffic in women. They ship young girls to North Africa and to South America, they—good God, Rollison,
you
don't need telling what goes on, or what happens to a girl who gets into the hands of devils like these.”

Rollison said, slowly: “No, I don't need telling.”

“Then have some sense, and get off this case.”

“If the Leonis are as bad as you say they are, they've got to be caught.”

“That's right,” said Kane, his voice harsh with bitterness – “that's the kind of stiff-necked fool you are. You forget you're dealing with human beings, with creatures of flesh and blood – you're not just dealing with a principle. It doesn't matter a damn to me what happens to the Leonis or what they do to other people – all I want is to get Caroline back, and make sure that no harm can come to her. I can do it, and make sure that nothing else goes wrong. You haven't a chance.Rollison just watched the man, seeing the glitter fade from his eyes, as if the recollection of fear soon conquered his anger. The Leonis could not have wanted a better spokesman – and in a way it was easy to understand him. If he felt for his daughter as keenly and as deeply as he said, then he would take any risks to save her; and the risk of losing another thirty thousand pounds of his wife's fortune was hardly one to worry him.

There was one good thing in this for Rollison: the Leonis had never intended to exchange Caroline for twenty thousand pounds; they might say they had; they might blame Rollison for having them followed, so as to exert more pressure on Eve; but it wasn't true. They had always been after this fifty thousand pounds – or more – had always felt quite sure that they would get it.

“So I haven't a chance,” Rollison said, very slowly. “Kane, how wrong can you be? If they've got Caroline, if they're that kind of people, what guarantee have you got that for another thirty, another fifty or another hundred thousand pounds, they'll let her go?” He saw the glitter back in Kane's eyes as he went on: “There's just one way of getting Caroline back safely: that's finding her and fetching her away.”

“All they want—”

“Don't be a credulous fool! They'll keep squeezing until your wife hasn't any money left. Look what they've done to her already, and look what they've done to you: you're both physical wrecks, you're both on the point of a mental and physical breakdown. You can't fight men like the Leonis, you're not equipped to try; and if they look like being too tough, I can get help from the police. Try to make up your mind—”

Kane said: “Rather than let you tell the police, Rollison, I will kill you. I'm quite sure that if the police know about them, they'll kill Caroline before they get away. They have several escape routes ready, they'll have no difficulty in getting out of the country. I tell you I
know
what devils these men are. And I tell you that I would rather kill you than let you talk to the police.”

As he spoke, he took an automatic pistol from his pocket.

 

 

Kane looked as if he meant what he said.

He held the gun tightly in his right hand, and covered Rollison, who was too far away to hope to push it aside, and too close for there to be any chance of missing. The door, closed, was two yards away from him. He looked into Kane's glittering eyes, saw the tension at his lips, and told himself that he must be very careful indeed, or the man would shoot to kill.

“Put that gun away, and don't be a fool,” he said.

“You're not going to the police, Rollison.”

“We've got to find your daughter. Do you know where she is?”

“I know just one thing – you're not going to tell the police about the Leonis.”

“Kane—”

“It's no use arguing with me,” Kane said, and menace was raw in his voice; Rollison had the impression that he was thinking not only more rapidly but more coherently and lucidly. Kane had been suffering from shock, and at first he had hardly known how to handle the situation; but he believed that he knew now. “I've got to be sure that you can't bring harm to Caroline.”

“If you shoot me,” Rollison argued, as if dispassionately, “the police will be here within a few minutes. When you're held on a charge of attempted murder, you won't be able to help your daughter or your wife.”

“I won't be held,” Kane said. “It's no crime to shoot a man caught stealing from your flat.”

The gun was shaking a little, because Kane was shaking with tension, but it did not shift its direction, and a bullet fired from it now would strike Rollison in the chest or in the stomach. The danger had built up so slowly that Rollison had not recognised it, but now he knew that it was imminent and acute. Probably Kane had been working up to this; probably he had tossed down those two whiskies so as to brace himself to kill, not just to talk.

“Don't do it, Kane,” Rollison said, calmly enough. “Put the gun away, and let us work out the best way to help Caroline.”

“I know the best way to help her.”

“If you shoot me you won't be able to help Caroline, yourself or Eve.”

Then, Rollison knew that he had made a mistake.

The name ‘Eve' had come out unbidden, and it seemed to stab at Kane. He saw the glitter back in the man's eyes. He saw the way his lips twisted. He saw the gun thrust forward, the forefinger on the trigger. He was quite sure that Kane meant to shoot; that he was simply screwing himself up to do it, and the way Rollison had said ‘Eve' gave him his final impetus. In a flash of intuition, Rollison realised something which he had not even suspected, which he did not believe Eve even suspected.
This man was still in love with his wife
, and all his
affaires
did not alter that.

The reason did not really matter, either. There was a possibility that he was anxious to turn his back on his old life and start afresh with his wife and daughter, but that was unimportant. He was in love with Eve, and now he hated Rollison – and there was almost certainly a deeper motive for his hatred than Rollison had realised until that moment.

Rollison's mouth was very dry.

“Kane,” he said, “I can prove that I came here to see you – I've a man outside.”

“You think you have,” Kane sneered. “You think you're so brilliant, but you haven't a chance with the Leonis. Your man's gone. Max Leoni knew that he was being followed all the time, let the man stay outside until you came here so that you would think that you would have help handy, and now he's dealt with him. That's something you can't get into your head, Rollison – there's no way of beating the Leonis. They know— everything.” There was sweat on Kane's forehead now, and beads of sweat on his upper lip, and he did not appear to notice how Rollison was inching forward to make a desperate leap to thrust the gun away; a leap right or left would not save him. “He told me that Eve stayed the night at your flat, he told me that you behaved more like lovers than like friends, he told me that the quicker you were wiped off the face of the earth the better it would be for me, and by God he was right.”

Rollison said: “Kane, he's lied to you all along, and if you believe him now—”

“I can believe the evidence of my own eyes and ears,” Kane said. “
Stay where you are
.
”
He was ashen pale and, although his hand was still trembling, the forward thrust told Rollison that he was on the point of shooting; only a miracle could stop him now, and Rollison did not believe in that kind of miracle. “I've got one chance of making something of my life, and you're not going to rob me of it.”

Rollison said, suddenly, almost brokenly: “All right, Kane, have it your own way.”

He saw the glint of surprise in the other's eyes, and won the only chance he would get: a moment's respite, while Kane's tension was relaxed, and when his finger was not touching the trigger.

Rollison jumped forward.

Alarm came in place of surprise, the automatic wavered and described a circle, and for an awful moment it was pointing straight at Rollison's eyes; if Kane fired now he could not miss. Then, Rollison reached him and pushed the gun aside; at the same moment it went off, and the bullet buried itself in the floor. The report sounded deafening, and Kane tried to swing the gun round to shoot again.

Rollison struck him with a clenched fist to the stomach, using all the force at his command. He heard him gasp with pain as he staggered back. Rollison grabbed at his right wrist, gripped it, and twisted; the gun dropped to the carpet with a thud, and lay close to Rollison's foot. He did not kick it, but went after Kane, hitting him twice more, making sure that he could not put up a fight. Then he stopped the man from falling, and lowered him into the big armchair; doing so, he knocked a glass off the arm; it fell but did not break.

Rollison drew back, bent down and picked up the automatic, then put his knuckles to his lips. He was sweating, and felt a sickening reaction; he would never be nearer death, and survive. But there were other things to worry about; Harry Mills for one, and the effect of the sound of the shot on people who lived in the house. Some were bound to have heard it, and there was a risk that someone would send for the police and come to find out about it afterwards. He went to the door, listened, and heard a woman call out shrilly: “Did you hear that?”

“It sounded like a gun going off,” another woman called back.

“That's what it was. Where did it come from?”

“Upstairs,” a woman declared.

“I
thought
it was out in the street,” put in another.

“No, I'm sure it was in the house somewhere.”

Rollison opened the door, stepped out and called down in a voice which he hoped was a passable imitation of Kane's.

“Hope I didn't scare anyone. I was cleaning a lamp, and dropped the bulb. No harm done. Damned silly of me. Sorry.” Before anyone could peer up and see him, he backed away. He closed the door with a bang, hoping against hope that the explanation would satisfy them, and afterwards he heard only a mutter of voices. He crossed to the window. Kane was lying back in the chair, still looking dazed; he was likely to stay like that for several minutes. Rollison opened the window and leaned out as far as he could, looking towards the corner, and the spot where he had left Harry.

He saw a crowd of people, but the Austin was out of sight.

He felt his heart thumping again, and found himself recalling what Kane had said about the omniscience of the Leonis. He had come up against men like these before; men who considered every move they made so carefully and yet were able to adapt themselves to changed circumstances so quickly, that they seemed abnormally efficient, and were therefore doubly dangerous.

He turned back to Kane, poured out a weak whisky and soda, and held it in front of the man's face. Kane eased himself up to a more comfortable sitting position, and sipped. The dazed look in his eyes was gone, and there was hatred in the way he stared at Rollison.

Rollison asked sharply: “What did they do with the man in the Austin?”

“I don't know,” muttered Kane.

“Get this clear, Kane,” Rollison said. “If the Leonis hurt him, not all the danger to your daughter or your wife will stop me from going to the police. Do you know where to get in touch with the Leonis?”

“Yes,” Kane muttered.

“Where?”

“I've a telephone number.”

“When I've gone, telephone them and tell them I want Harry Mills and his Austin released and outside my flat by seven o'clock tonight, or I'll be talking to Scotland Yard by one minute past seven. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Kane said, and went on as if bitterly: “You don't really give a damn about my wife or daughter, do you?”

Rollison answered, as if the taunt didn't affect him: “I've known Mills for a long time. Do you know where Caroline is?”

Kane didn't answer.

“Do you know?”

“Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, but—”

“You've succeeded in doing one thing,” said Rollison harshly. “You've persuaded me that I ought to try and get her myself, and not call on the police unless it becomes desperate.”

“There's no need for you to do anything! I can get Caroline back—”

“I don't believe it,” Rollison said. “I don't believe they will hand her over for any sum of money. I believe they've got you exactly where they want you, and they'll bleed you and your wife dry. Where is Caroline?”

Kane didn't answer.

Rollison moved towards the telephone, saw the alarm in Kane's eyes, saw him start to get out of his chair, and then drop back into it again. Rollison picked up the receiver, looking at Kane all the time, and dialled; and as he dialled he uttered the letters and the numerals.

“W-H-I-1-2-1-2.”

All the world knew that was Scotland Yard; and Kane, watching his fingers, knew that it wasn't bluff, and that he had actually dialled the Yard. Rollison waited, with the receiver an inch or two from his ear; suddenly the operator at the Yard answered, and the sound filtered out into the room.

Kane jumped up from his chair and tried to leap at Rollison, but he was still winded and hurt, and he staggered and nearly fell.

“Scotland Yard,” repeated the operator aloofly.

“Superintendent Grice, please,” Rollison said. “This is Roll—”

“Don't do it!” cried Kane, and this time he managed to reach Rollison and to clutch at his right hand and the telephone; but Rollison held him off. “For God's sake don't do it! I'll tell you where she is. I'll tell you, but don't let the police—”

“I'm sorry, but Mr Grice isn't in his office. He's still out on a case,” the girl said. “I can give you Mr Appleton.”

Rollison said: “I'll call later.”

He rang off, and saw the perspiration pouring down Kane's forehead. Kane was breathing very hard, too; there was no doubt that he had reached a peak of terror. He was in such a condition that it would be impossible to rely on him; once Rollison had gone, he would tell the Leonis that he had promised to take Rollison to Caroline—

Did he know where the girl was?

Was he right about the evil that was in the Leonis?

They had certainly convinced him of the horrors which were in store for Caroline if he refused to obey them.

Kane muttered: “Rollison, I don't care what you do, but don't tell the police. It will be absolutely fatal.”

“Where is she?” demanded Rollison.

“I—I can take you there, but—”

“Where is she!”

“For God's sake don't make me tell you,” Kane begged. “Why don't you believe me when I say that there isn't a chance for her unless we pay that extra money? What does it matter to you if my wife pays? I tell you it won't make any difference to her – she has nearly a quarter of a million! There have been times when I wished to God she hadn't, but she has it – and she wouldn't care how much she paid for Caroline. Why don't you leave us alone and let us settle this our own way?”

Rollison asked expressionlessly: “Where is Caroline?”

“I'm not going to tell you? I'll take you there, but if the Leonis knew I'd told you—”

“Kane,” said Rollison, “you're going to tell me where to find Caroline, or I'm going to the police with the whole story.”

Kane pressed the heels of his thumbs against his forehead as if the pain at his head and eyes was unbearable, and then he muttered: “You don't know what you're doing. If they kill her, her life will be on your conscience for ever, and if—” He broke off, moistened his lips, and then went on: “She's at a cottage on the outskirts of Hapley. It's only three miles from the school. They rented it weeks ago. It's called the Thatch, a little thatched cottage on the Worcester Road, between Worcester and Hapley, just past an inn called the Double Horse, going from Hapley to Worcester. You can't miss it, even at night; there's an all-night service station by the inn. But if you try to go there, you'll be—”

He couldn't finish.

Rollison said: “All right, Kane, take it easy. What you need is eight hours' sound sleep, like your wife – and that's what you're going to get. Come on.”

“I can't leave here! They're going to telephone me later. I've got to be in.”

“They can telephone me,” Rollison said firmly. “Come on.” He took Kane by the arm just above the elbow and made him get up, and then hustled him across the room to the door. He unlocked the door and pulled it open and thrust Kane forward – and Kane almost fell against Leah, who backed hastily away.

And behind Leah was Max Leoni.

Max said brightly: “You two weren't thinking of going anywhere, were you?” He stood at the top of the stairs, so that it would be impossible to get past without pushing him to one side. “Turn back into the flat, Kane,” he ordered. “Don't let Rollison fool you. The price is too high. Isn't it, Leah?”