By now, hating the feel of her, sickened by the smell in the cabin, he went out into the open.
He was aware he was wasting time. Gina might die on him. There were complications. Suppose Silk wouldn’t play? Suppose he drew back on murder? Suppose he wouldn’t bury Big Chet?
Frost thought, then he returned to the cabin and using the telephone, he called the Spanish Bay hotel. Within a minute, Grandi came on the line.
‘I have real trouble,’ Frost said. ‘I’ve found her, but she is way out on a L.S.D. trip. She looks bad... really bad.’
‘Can you get her to the Paradise Clinic?’ Grandi asked, his voice like a fall of gravel, ‘or should I get an ambulance?’
‘I’ll get her there,’ Frost said. ‘No ambulance. There are other complications.’
‘I’ll alert the clinic,’ Grandi said, ‘and I’ll be there.’ He hung up.
Frost again looked at Gina, again passed his hands before her eyes. No response. Then he heard the sound of a fast approaching car. He ran out of the cabin as the car pulled up. Silk, Umney and Goble spilled out.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Silk snarled, walking up to Frost.
‘Take a look.’
Frost led the three men into the cabin.
‘That’s the way I found the scene,’ he said.
The three men stared at the dead body, then at Gina.
‘Did she kill him?’ Umney asked in a hushed voice.
‘Who else? She’s way out on a trip. She could die on us,’ Frost said. ‘Get this hunk of meat buried.’
‘If she’s killed him, we have Grandi just where we want him,’ Silk said. ‘We can still pick up twenty million dollars.’
‘But not if she dies,’ Frost said. ‘Bury this slob!’
Silk thought for a long moment, then turned to Umney and Goble.
‘Bury him, but know where he can be dug up. Bury him just as he is, and don’t touch the knife. She’ll have her prints on the handle. Get moving!’
While Umney and Goble were dragging the dead body out of the cabin, Silk smiled evilly at Frost.
‘This is the big deal,’ he said. ‘Grandi pays twenty million or we leak it to the cops. We can’t lose this time.’
Frost went to Gina, picked her up, like a sawdust doll, and carried her across the hot sand and through the humid heat to the Lamborghini.
Silk followed.
‘Keep out of this!’ Frost said as he placed the inert Gina in the passenger’s seat. ‘Stay away!’ He slid into the driving seat, gunned the engine, and leaving Silk, he drove fast up the sandy road to the highway.
It took him fifteen minutes of fast driving to reach the Paradise Clinic. He pulled up outside the emergency entrance. It took him less than two minutes to get action. Grandi had already switched on his power. An intern and a nurse were waiting, and they whisked Gina’s inert body away.
While he stood by the Lamborghini, sweating in the humid heat, Grandi drove up in the Rolls.
Frost went to meet him.
‘She’s in emergency,’ he said. ‘She looks bad.’
Grandi stood motionless, glaring at Frost.
‘There’s a hell of a complication,’ Frost went on. ‘She picked up with a wayout freak who fed her L.S.D. She went on a bad trip, and she killed him.’
Grandi stood a step back.
‘Killed him?’ he croaked.
‘Yes... she stabbed him to death. The hippy is buried. If we have any luck, no one will know about this, but it’ll cost you, Grandi. My associates buried him.’
Grandi stared for a long moment at Frost, then he strode through the swing doors of the emergency entrance and out of sight.
Frost drew in a deep breath. He lit a cigarette with a sweating hand. The sound of a car coming to a screeching halt made him look around. Silk got out of the car and came over.
‘What gives?’ he demanded, planting himself in front of Frost.
‘I told you to keep out of this!’ Frost said angrily. ‘So keep out of it!’
‘Use your head!’ Silk said. ‘We have Grandi where we want him. She killed this creep and we can prove it. You set up the deal. Squeeze him for twenty million! Tell him he pays or his goddamn daughter faces a murder rap!’
Frost stared at this hatchet-faced, professional killer. He had a sudden feeling of revulsion. It came to him that because of his burning desire to be rich, he had let free this crazy girl, and because she had escaped, she had committed murder. His desire for sudden wealth suddenly turned sour, and he felt sick of himself.
Turning, he made for the emergency entrance.
‘Hey! Where are you going?’ Silk shouted.
Paying no attention, Frost walked up to the reception desk. An elderly woman looked enquiringly at him.
‘A message for Mr. Grandi,’ Frost said.
The magic name brought the woman immediately alert.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell him I’ll be at the villa if he wants me. The name’s Frost.’
She wrote on a scratch pad.
‘I’ll see he gets your message, Mr. Frost.’
A thought dropped into Frost’s mind.
‘How is Mr. Amando?’ he asked.
The elderly woman’s fat face turned sad.
‘He died an hour ago. He had a second heart attack.’
‘He’s lucky,’ Frost said, and leaving her, gaping, he went out into the humid heat.
Silk grabbed hold of his arm.
‘Get back in there and talk to Grandi!’
Frost set himself, then smashed his right fist against Silk’s jaw. He knew there would now be little pleasure, if any, in his life before him, but, at least, as his knuckles slammed against Silk’s face, he did have pleasure.
Silk became airborne. He hurtled backwards and crashed down on the tarmac.
Frost got into the Lamborghini and drove fast to Orchid Villa.
Grandi sat in a lounging chair in a small room in which there were other chairs, and a table covered with glossy magazines. The air conditioner made the only sound. He had been sitting there for the past two hours, and while he sat, he thought back on his life.
He had been born in a Naples slum. His father had been killed in a knife fight. He had a strong tie with his mother, and at the age of six, he was selling phony Parker pens to tourists. Later, he sold them obscene postcards. His mother took all his earnings and saved them. They lived on spaghetti and the fruit he stole from the market. When his mother was killed by a drunk driver who didn’t stop, Grandi spent three months mourning. He was then entirely on his own. Using the money, his mother had saved for him, he bought a small cabin cruiser and began the smuggling run between Tangiers and Naples, bringing in cigarettes, then later drugs. Money, always carefully saved, accumulated in the bank. At the age of twenty, because of his knowledge of boats, he became friendly with a rich industrialist who was glad to have him around to handle his motor yacht. He told Grandi he was deeply troubled because his daughter had got involved with a lesbian. Grandi offered his help in return for a large sum of money. The industrialist didn’t ask questions, but had agreed. Grandi had walked into a de luxe apartment and had strangled the lesbian to death. Now, suddenly rich, Grandi moved to Rome. At the age of thirty-five, he had invested his money so well, he was now out of the danger of the poverty bracket. He cultivated the right people who were impressed by his shrewdness. He invested, saved, reinvested, expanded. He had the golden touch. When he was forty years of age, and already a multimillionaire, he married Maria Vendotti, the daughter of the Italian ambassador to France. This marriage increased his riches, but he was too occupied in turning his money into more money, and finally after sixteen years, his wife killed herself, and Grandi was left with Gina.