I made coffee and then dressed. At 07.15 I went down to the garage.
Hank, the night man, was polishing a car. He was a tall, thin black who took too much interest in the occupants of the apartments.
‘Morning, Mr. Burden,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’re right early. I see Mrs. Burden’s car ain’t here.’
‘She’s staying at the hotel and I’m staying at Paradise Largo until the hurricane passes. Hold any mail for us, will you Hank?’
‘Sure will, Mr. Burden. That hurricane is going to be a big nuisance.’
‘Looks as if it has already blown itself out.’
Grinning, he shook his head.
‘No, sir. That little hurricane ain’t blown itself out. It’s gathering its strength. By dusk, it’ll really get going.
I drove out on to the empty streets. The City now looked as if it were expecting a hostile invasion. The windows of the stores and better shops were boarded up. There was scarcely any traffic. Coming to the hotel belt I saw men trimming the palms and sawing off overhanging tree branches.
The security guard nodded to me as I showed him my pass.
‘I’ll be staying until it’s over,’ I told him.
He grunted, his expression surly.
‘So will I if this goddamn box doesn’t blow away.’
‘Has Mr. Vidal arrived yet?’
‘Passed through half an hour ago.’
I found a change in the house when I parked my car. All the windows were boarded up and there were two men on the flat roof, capping the chimneys. A Chinese gardener was staking the standard rose trees. Another was shoring up a leaning palm.
Entering my dark office, I turned on the lights. On my desk stood a hurricane lamp and a box of matches. I glanced at the boarded up windows, then at my desk clock. The time was 08.00.
Henriques, Vidal’s accountant, had asked me to prepare the month’s statement giving names, destinations and costs. As I had nothing else to do and needed to keep my mind occupied I got out the various dockets and receipts and began to list them.
Around 08.45 a tap came on the door and Dyer came in.
‘Hello there.’ He had a powerful electric torch in his hand which he placed on my desk. ‘The hurricane is supposed to hit around 21.00. All electricity will be cut off so you’d better keep this handy. It’s going to be damned hot without the air conditioners and with no ventilation.’ He sat on the corner of my desk and lit a cigarette. ‘Tiny arrived about an hour ago.’ He grimaced. ‘Not in the best of tempers. He’s with Mrs. V. now.’
‘Did he say if they were going to stay?’ Dyer grinned.
‘He didn’t even say good morning. I’m working in the room immediately below this one. His office is next to mine at the back, overlooking the pool in case he yells for you. There’s a lot of mail come in, probably the last until it’s over.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Not right now. My intercom is four. See you,’ and he left me.
I sat still, wondering what was going on in Val’s room. My nerves were jumpy and I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I opened my desk drawer where I had put my brief case. The outline of the gun gave me no comfort. Shutting the drawer. I tried to concentrate on the dockets, but my mind kept chasing down the corridor to Val’s room.
Then remembering. I had left my overnight bag in the Plymouth, I got to my feet and went to the door, opened it and stood listening. I heard nothing. Slowly, I moved along the corridor to within ten yards of Val’s door. I paused at the head of the stairs and again listened.
Suddenly I heard Vidal’s short barking laugh. The sound chilled me.
‘You’d better get up.’ His squeaky voice came clearly to me. ‘Does you more harm than good lolling around in bed. Get dressed and find something to do!’
Seeing the door handle turn, I started swiftly down the stairs. I reached the hall as Vidal reached the head of the stairs.
‘Ah, Burden!’
His voice stopped me as if I had run into a wall. I turned and looked up at him. He was wearing a pearl grey City suit with a white silk shirt and a blood red tie. He came swiftly down the stairs and as he passed me, he went on, ‘I want to talk to you.’ There was a heavy frown on his face and as he walked, he slapped his hands together impatiently.
Following him, I was again aware of the power and width of his shoulders that seemed to ooze strength.
He opened a door and bounced into a vast room, dominated by a big Chippendale desk: a room of comfort, luxury and good taste. He went around the desk and sat down.
‘I’m pleased you are staying Burden. You never know... you could be useful. I have to stay: an important telephone call. Mrs. Vidal has elected to stay with me. God knows why.’ He shrugged impatiently. ‘She would be better leaving with Mrs. Clements. She says she doesn’t feel like the journey.’ He waved to a chair. ‘Sit down.’
As I sat down there came a tap on the door and the butler came in with a tray of coffee which he set on the desk.
‘Want coffee?’ Vidal asked me.
‘No, thank you.’ I felt I would throw up if I took coffee. ‘I’ve had mine.’
‘Right.’ He waved the butler away. ‘Harris, you’d better get going. Guilio will look after me.’
‘Very good, sir.’ The butler closed the door after him.
‘They’re all nervous,’ Vidal said. ‘I dislike having nervous people around me.’ He paused, then went on, ‘your work’s very satisfactory Burden. It couldn’t have been easy with Mrs. Vidal having the vapours. Have you got a secretary?’
‘Yes, but I told to keep away until the hurricane’s over.’
‘Mrs. Vidal, as I expected, doesn’t want to continue working with you. She found it too hard so you’d better keep this girl you’ve found if you’re satisfied with her. What are we paying her?’
I told him.
‘That’s all right. Now I have a job for you. Get on to it right away. If this hurricane turns out as bad as they say it’s going to be, we’ll lose the telephone: all the lines will be down. Charter an air taxi on standby to be ready to take off the moment the weather permits. Destination San Salvador, three passengers with luggage. I’ll give you the names later, but get the aircraft booked.’ He gave a mirthless grin. ‘Tell that jerk I’ll pay cash.’
‘Yes, Mr. Vidal.’ I got to my feet.
‘Don’t run away for the moment. When you’ve done that Burden, do me a favour, will you?’
This was so unexpected, I stared at him for a moment before saying, ‘Of course, Mr. Vidal.’
‘Keep Mrs. Vidal amused this afternoon, will you? She gets along with you. Play gin rummy or some goddamn thing with her. She’s nervy and I have a load of work to do.’ I could scarcely believe I was hearing rightly.
‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ I said huskily.
‘That’s a good fellow.’ He reached for a legal looking document. It was his way of dismissing me.
My heart thumping with excitement, I moved into the hall, shutting Vidal’s door gently behind me. Coming down the stairs was Mrs. Clements, Harris, the butler and a fat man I assumed was the chef. They were all carrying suitcases. I stood aside to let them pass. Mrs. Clements gave me a curt nod, Harris inclined his head, the chef ignored me. When they had left the house, I went into Dyer’s office.
He was thumping a typewriter with two fingers. He paused to grin at me.
‘The rats gone?’
‘Where are they off to?’
‘Catching the last flight to Dallas. They’ve all got the jitters about Hermes. Tiny told them to go and we now have no staff except Gesetti. He swears he can cook. I hope he can. You’ll have to make your own bed. Can you type?’
‘Fair.’
‘You could help out.’ He pushed some papers across his desk. ‘If you will type this lot with two copies I’ll be obliged.’