Gesetti lay on his back, the sheet up to his chin, a big piece of plaster on his forehead. He slept, his mouth open, his snores reverberating around the room.
Satisfied I had nothing to fear from him, I closed the door and returned to my office. I lit the hurricane lamp and sat at my desk.
The foolproof plan to kill Vidal which had up to now completely eluded me was now clear in my mind. Both Val and Dyer had unwittingly presented it to me.
Without their information the idea would never have occurred to me. How simple it was!
The facts were that Vidal was ruined, a warrant for his arrest was imminent, he had lost his millions and he was faced with exile in Lima.
Those were incontestable facts that would stand up under police scrutiny.
To these facts add the noise of the hurricane, his hopeless future and the fear of prison and you had the motive that had driven him in a fit of depression to shoot himself.
Surely this combination of facts would convince the police to accept his death as suicide?
I paused to think about this carefully.
Dyer would be the perfect witness. He would tell the police about Vidal’s financial position. He would express no surprise that Vidal had taken the easy way out. I wouldn’t even come into the investigation. As a new member of the staff I wouldn’t be expected to know anything about Vidal’s affairs.
It seemed to me that this part of the plan must be foolproof.
I poured whisky into the glass and drank in two gulps. My heart was hammering and there was sweat on my face. Now the air conditioning was no longer functioning the room was beginning to get oppressively stuffy. The sound of the raging storm gave me a frightening sensation of being trapped in an enormous drum on which some lunatic was beating.
The one man I feared was soundly asleep. Had Gesetti been prowling around the house instead of being in bed in a drugged sleep, I knew I wouldn’t have had the courage to move on to the next step of the plan.
Vidal was in his office, alone.
When Val had begged me to shoot her she had said, No one will hear the shot in the storm! You will be safe, darling. No one would suspect you.
Yes! No one would suspect me!
I would go down silently to his office and walk in. The room would be in semi-darkness. I would have the gun in my hand by my side, out of his sight. I would say I wanted to talk to him about Val. He would irritably dismiss me. While I was trying to persuade him to listen to me I would move close to him, then jerking up the gun, I would shoot him through the head.
I could do it! I had to do it! No one would suspect me! It would appear he had killed himself rather than go to prison.
Why wait?
Dyer was in bed. Gesetti was sleeping. There could be no better moment. The screaming wind and the noise of falling trees would blot out the sound of the shot.
I thought of Val, sobbing and alone.
It would be over in a few minutes and she would be free. When the police investigation was over, we would be together. She and I! After six years of waiting!
I got to my feet and started to the door, then stopped.
The gun!
I walked unsteadily to the desk, pulled open the drawer and took out my brief case. Its flabby emptiness turned me cold. Throwing the brief case aside with my heart hammering. I peered into the drawer.
A tremendous clap of thunder shook the house.
The drawer was empty!
The gun was gone!
Nine
The gun had been in my brief case in the drawer. Now it had gone!
Who had taken it?
Vidal? Gesetti?
But neither of them knew I had the gun!
The shock of finding it gone, now that I was resolved to kill Vidal, was so great I felt as if I had been hit on the head. I dropped into my chair, resting my face in my shaking hands.
The sound of the storm was continuous. The screaming noise of the wind pounded on inside my skull.
Then who had taken the gun?
The only one who knew I had it was Val.
Val!
She had begged me to shoot her! Had she, in a mad moment gone to my office while Dyer and I were checking the doors and windows, found and taken the gun?
I stumbled to my feet.
God! Had she killed herself?
In this infernal noise I wouldn’t have heard the shot. I stood for a long moment in the grip of panic. It was at this moment when I thought I might have lost her for good that I fully realised how much I loved her, how much I depended on her to wipe out the memory of those six empty years when I had her only in my dreams.
I went out into the corridor.
Was she already dead?
Moving slowly, my heart hammering, I walked down to her door. I put my head close to the door panel and tried to listen but the noise of the raging hurricane blotted out every sound.
Bracing myself, I opened the door.
Would I find her lying on her bed, lost to me forever? Would she be bleeding from a dreadful wound in the head?
‘Who is it?’
Her voice! She was alive!
I moved quickly into the room and closed the door I stood there, looking at her as she sat in a chair near the hurricane lamp, her hands in her lap, the lamp lighting the rise and fall of her lovely breasts and casting her tense white face into sculptured shadows.
‘Oh, Val!’
I stumbled to her and fell on my knees, my head on her thighs, my hands around her waist.
Gently her fingers moved into my hair.
‘Tell me.’ Her voice was unsteady. ‘Don’t be frightened. Tell me I am free.’
I remained motionless. What had she said?
A tremendous clap of thunder shook the windows.
‘Clay, darling...’
Tell me I am free.
I was still so shaken to find her alive, my brain refused to function.
‘Clay!’ Her voice sharpened. Her hands moved to my shoulders. She pushed me upright so we looked at each other. ‘What has happened?’
Why was it her face seemed to me to be chiselled out of marble? A trick of the flickering light?
‘Give me the gun,’ I said.
‘Gun? What do you mean?’
I got unsteadily to my feet.
‘Don’t fool with me, Val! Give me the gun!’
‘Gun? Clay! Pull yourself together. You told me you had the gun!’ Her voice turned shrill.
‘It’s gone! For God’s sake, Val, don’t torture me like this! You took it, didn’t you?’
‘I?’ She leaned forward, her fists clenched, her face the colour of old parchment, her eyes wild and wide. ‘No! What are you saying? Isn’t he dead?’
‘No, I was going to kill him.’ I turned away from her. I couldn’t face her wild, despairing eyes. ‘I had it all planned. It was to look like suicide. It seemed so simple. The motive was there. They always look for a motive. He was being threatened by prison or exile. He had lost all his money. All I had to do was walk in there and shoot him through the head.’ I moved further away from her. ‘The gun has gone!’
There was a long pause, then she said in a voice I could scarcely hear: ‘Who took it?’
‘I was sure it was you.’
‘No...’
I lifted my hands helplessly.
‘What can I do now? I have no weapon. I can’t fight with him. He is far too strong.’
She drew in a long, slow breath.
‘I told you...’ She stared down at her clenched fists. ‘There is nothing to do. He is protected. Devils always are protected. Please go. If he found you here...’
‘I promised to help you. I am going to help you!’
‘Please go away!’ She dropped her head in her hands and began to sob.