I stared at her, not believing what I had heard.
‘Murdered? What do you mean?’
‘Klaus has already anticipated that you would go to Brannigan. Why do you think I am here, Larry? Why do you think he has allowed me to see you again? He told me to spell out the message. He will have me murdered so it will look as if you killed me as he made it look as if you killed Alex.’
Again, I felt as if a Siberian wind was blowing over me. I was once again a mouse darting here and there to avoid the cat’s claws.
‘If we are going to escape from this trap, Larry,’ Glenda went on, ‘you must tell Klaus how to break into the bank, but this is up to you.’ She got up and began to move around the room. ‘He is a devil! I’m so frightened! I don’t want to die, Larry! I want to share my life with you. I don’t give a damn if we have no money... just so long as we are together. Do you really care if this bank is robbed? Every day banks are being robbed, and who cares? You have only to tell him how to do it, and we are free!’
I hesitated, staring at her.
‘But, Glenda, I made it safe! You must understand! If Klaus breaks into that bank, everything I have worked for, my position in Sharnville, the years and years of grinding study goes into a puddle of mud.’
She put her hands to her eyes.
‘All right, Larry. Yes, I understand, then my life takes second place.’
As if on cue, the front door burst open, and Benny and Joe came in. Joe caught hold of Glenda and jerked her to the open door. Benny moved up to me and gave me a shove with his open hand, sending me reeling.
‘Okay, fink,’ he said. ‘You now know the photo. The next time you see this babe, she’ll be a bloody mess unless you do what you’re told,’ and they left, hustling Glenda between them, and the door slammed behind them.
Unsteadily, I went to the window and watched them push Glenda into the Chevy, then watched them drive away.
I sat down. It was still a nightmare, and I longed for the moment when I woke up to find this hadn’t happened: that this was only a terrifying dream.
The church clock struck eleven. Jebson’s TV set suddenly snapped off. There was silence, except for the distant roar of the traffic and sitting still, I had to face the fact that this was no nightmare.
I heard Glenda’s voice, shaking with panic: Do you really care if the bank is robbed?
I thought of Farrell Brannigan, and what he had done for me. I remembered what Dixon had said. Brannigan had no mercy for anyone who stepped out of turn. He was a righteous man. He would have no mercy for me if I went to him and told him this blackmail story. My immediate reaction had been to go to him, but now, thinking about it, I realized he would treat me as he had treated Klaus forty years ago.
It was hard for me to believe that Klaus would have Glenda murdered, but, I told myself, he had ruthlessly arranged her husband’s murder. His threat could become a reality, and this was unthinkable.
You have only to tell him how to do it, and we’re free!
I could submit to Klaus’s blackmail and tell him how to break into the bank. I considered this. Only Brannigan, Manson and I knew of the soft underbelly of the bank’s security. If Klaus succeeded in robbing the bank, Brannigan, Manson and I would come under the police searchlight Brannigan would be immediately discounted. The searchlight would then concentrate on Manson and myself. Brannigan would never have chosen Manson to manage the safest bank in the world unless he was sure Manson was above reproach. The police would probe into Manson’s background. They would find, as I knew, he lived simply, and he was a dedicated banker, so the searchlight would concentrate on me. I was the one who had made the bank safe. I knew far better than Manson how the electronic gimmicks worked. These gimmicks were so safe, no thief could get into the bank without inside information. This information was held by Brannigan, Manson and myself. When they had discounted Brannigan and Manson, they would select me as suspect No. 1.
I was being threatened by Klaus with a life sentence for murdering Marsh. According to Glenda, he would have her murdered, and make it seem I was her killer if I didn’t cooperate with him. Yet if I did, and I broke down under police interrogation, I could still face a long jail sentence.
There must be a way out of this trap!
I had seven days.
In seven days, I had to come up with a solution to save myself!
Another Monday!
My desk was piled with work. The telephone bell constantly rang. Bill Dixon, calling from ’Frisco, came through with the final details of our new building.
‘This is going to be a big one, Larry,’ he said excitedly. ‘They have approved the extra extension. We have really got to get off the pad.’
I listened, made notes, assured him I could handle my end of it and hung up. The pressure was such I couldn’t even think of Klaus, but he was at the back of my mind, pushed into my subconscious, but ready to appear the moment I could pause to think.
Mary Oldham, my secretary, a plump, middle-aged woman who was efficiency itself, looked around my door.
‘Sheriff Thomson, Mr. Lucas, asking for you.’
I stiffened, my heart skipping a beat as Thomson stalked into my office.
‘Hi, citizen,’ he said. ‘Police business. You’re busy. I’m busy, but police business is more than busy.’
‘Okay, Joe, make it fast. What is it?’
The telephone bell rang, and I picked up the receiver. It was the builder’s contractor. We talked costs for a couple of minutes, then I told him to talk to Bill Dixon, and hung up.
‘What is it, Joe?’ I asked impatiently.
‘Glenda Marsh,’ Thomson said. ‘She’s quit town. She’s a phony.’
‘What does that mean, and what has that to do with me?’ I forced myself to meet his probing eyes.
‘This woman came here to do a reportage for The Investor... right?’
‘So she told me,’ I said.
‘Yeah. So she told me. She poked around, took photographs, had a date with me to photograph the jail, then didn’t show, and has left town.’ He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit up. ‘The Investor is an important paper. So I asked myself why this woman should suddenly quit town. I contacted The Investor, and they tell me they don’t know her and they don’t employ freelance photographers. What do you make of that?’
I had to play this cool, and with an effort, I shrugged, waving my hand impatiently.
‘Look, Joe, I’m up to my eyes in work. For all I know, and frankly, I don’t give a damn, she was an opportunist. Lots of freelance journalists do the same thing — claiming they work for an important magazine to get interviews. Then they write up articles and try to sell them. It happens all the time.’
Thomson leaned forward to tap off his ash into my ash bowl.
‘Yeah, could be.’ He sucked at his cigarette, then went on, ‘I am the Sheriff of Sharnville. It is my job to protect this town. Sharnville has the safest bank in the world, and lots of wealthy citizens. It’s my job to watch over them, and the bank. That’s what I get paid for. When a woman like Marsh arrives on the scene, takes photographs, chats up our more wealthy citizens who, thinking she is representing The Investor, talk their fat heads off, because getting coverage in a magazine of that standing is a status symbol, and then when I find out she is a phony, I start looking for trouble. I’ve talked to a number of our wealthy citizens, and learn they have been boasting to this woman about the money they stash away in the Californian National Bank.’ He made a grimace. ‘When you get a guy making big money, get him to drink a few martinis, let a pretty woman soft-talk him, he runs at the mouth.’ His little cop eyes were like granite. ‘When she talked to you, did she ask you anything about the security of our bank?’