Выбрать главу

‘Okay. Well, I guess that fixes it.’ He got to his feet. ‘A real nice operation. Klaus may be a nut case, but he’s certainly smart.’

‘So Joe tells me.’

‘We’ll pick you up at your place at 2.30 next Saturday morning. Right?’

‘I’ll be ready.’

‘And if something turns up, I’ll give you a call at your office.’

‘Give your name as Benson, and say you’re from I.B.M.’

‘Right.’

As we moved to the door, I said, ‘And watch Benny.’

‘I’ll watch him.’ He paused and stared at me, his eyes suddenly cold. ‘And I’ll watch you too, buster.’

Moving by me, he walked out into the darkness to the Chevy. As he drove away, I turned off the stop switch, concealed in the handle of my brief-case, of the tape recorder.

I went over to my car, put the brief-case carefully on the passenger’s seat and headed back to my apartment.

Around 11.00 on Wednesday morning, as I put down the telephone receiver after a long call from Bill Dixon, my secretary came in.

‘A special delivery for you, Mr. Lucas. It’s marked personal.’ She put a bulky envelope on my desk.

‘Thanks, Mary.’

I waited until she had left, then picking up the envelope by one corner, I carefully slit the flat. The bonds spilled out.

I regarded them. They looked genuine enough, but I wasn’t fooled. There was no note. Using my handkerchief, I put the bonds back into the envelope, and locked the envelope in one of my desk drawers.

I sat back and considered my position. I had two damning tapes covering Klaus’s talk with me, and Harry’s talk with me. I also had Joe on tape. I had Harry’s fingerprints on my brief-case. It had been a stroke of luck that he had snatched the brief-case from me as I was about to open it. His prints would be on record. With any luck, Klaus’s prints would be on the envelope and possibly, the bonds. With his record, the forged bonds would get Klaus a long term in jail. I could tie him, Harry and Joe in with the break-in, but not Benny. That bothered me. So far, I had nothing on Benny. Then Mary looked in to say the building contractor was waiting to see me, and for the next three hours, I was all business.

Around 13.00, my usual lunch time, I told Mary I had a special job to do and to send out for sandwiches for me ‘I need another tape recorder, Mary. I want to copy some tapes.’

‘I’ll do that for you, Mr. Lucas.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll do it myself. For the next hour don’t put any telephone calls through: say I’m out to lunch.’

Taking the recorder from her, I locked my office door, and made a copy of the two tapes. Then using my portable typewriter I wrote, in duplicate, to Farrell Brannigan. I told him of my love for Glenda, of Klaus and his blackmail, and of his determination to break into the safest bank in the world.

I told him there was enough on the tapes to nail Klaus, and that the bonds he had given me were forgeries. I omitted no details. I ended by telling him Klaus was threatening to kill Glenda and myself if the bank break-in failed.

I read through the statement, then satisfied, I put it m an envelope, together with the original tapes and sealed the envelope. I locked the copy of my statement with the tape copies in my desk drawer. By then it was 14.15, and I could hear Mary moving around in her office. I unlocked my office door and told her I was ready for business, and a few minutes later the telephone bell began to ring.

It wasn’t until after 20.00, when Mary and the rest of the staff had long gone and I had cleared my desk, that I was once again able to concentrate on the problem facing me. I was now satisfied that I had taken care of myself, but not Glenda. Somehow, I had to get her away from Klaus. According to Joe, she was a prisoner in Klaus’s place. At least, I told myself I had all day Thursday and Friday to fix something.

Taking the original tapes and my statement, leaving the copies in my desk drawer, I went down to my car. I had put the gun Joe had given me in the glove compartment of my car. As I started the engine, I took the gun and dropped it into my jacket pocket. It gave me a feeling of security. I parked some two hundred yards from my apartment block. I was now taking no chances. Carrying the bulky envelope containing the tapes and my statement, my hand resting on the butt of the gun, I walked to the lighted entrance. As I neared the glass door leading into the lighted lobby, I paused, looking right and left, then I started forward again, but immediately stopped.

Sitting in one of the lounging chairs in the lobby, by the elevator, his hat at the back of his head, a racing sheet in his hand, was Benny.

The sight of him sent a chill up my spine. I spun around, and moving fast, I headed back to my car. Obviously, Benny was waiting for me, but why? Seeing the bulky envelope I was carrying, he might grab it. I wasn’t ready yet for a showdown with Klaus.

How long would Benny wait for me? I wanted to get to my apartment, but I had to wait until he had gone. I decided I would drive to a restaurant at the end of the street, have dinner and then make a cautious return.

As I paused by my car, I saw Deputy Sheriff Fred Maclain now acting sheriff of Sharnville, walking along the sidewalk towards me.

‘Hi, there, Fred!’

He paused, peered at me, then his red, bloated face split into a grin.

‘Hi, Mr. Lucas.’

I shook his hand.

‘Terrible thing about Joe,’ I said. ‘I can’t get him off my mind.’

‘Yeah.’ Maclain blew out his fat cheeks. ‘We’ll get the punk, Mr. Lucas. Don’t worry about that. We’ll get him!’

‘I’m sure you will, Fred.’ I paused, then went on, ‘I’m just going up to my apartment for quick snort. Then, I have a dinner date. Feel like joining me? I’ve got some good Scotch.’

‘It’s bad luck to refuse a drink, Mr. Lucas,’ he said, grinning. ‘Lead me to it.’

We walked back together, and into the apartment block’s lobby. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Benny stiffen, start to get to his feet, then seeing Maclain, he resettled himself in his chair, staring at the racing sheet. I led Maclain to the elevator, not looking at Benny. I saw Maclain staring at Benny, his little pig eyes hardening.

‘Just a moment, Mr. Lucas,’ and he walked over to Benny. ‘Haven’t seen you around here before, stranger,’ he said, in his rough cop voice. ‘I’m sheriff here. I like to check strange faces. Who are you?’

Benny got hastily to his feet. His brutal face shone with sweat.

‘Just resting my dogs,’ he said. ‘Any harm in that?’

‘You live here?’ Maclain barked. He was only happy when he was barking at people.

‘No, just resting my dogs.’

‘Then rest your goddamn feet someplace else. What’s your name, and where do you come from?’

‘Tom Schultz,’ Benny said, backing away. ‘I’ve got an hour to wait for my train.’

‘Come on, Fred,’ I said. ‘Time’s running out.’

Maclain grunted, then waved Benny to the door.

‘Get lost,’ he said, and as Benny walked out into the night, Maclain grinned, then joined me at the elevator.

‘He looked a punk,’ he said, as we entered the elevator. ‘I hate punks.’

In my apartment, I built him a whisky and soda, and got him settled in a lounging chair.

‘Excuse me for a moment, Fred,’ I said. ‘I want to wash up.’

‘You go ahead.’ He sipped the whisky and sighed. ‘Now that’s what I call the genuine stuff.’

I put the bottle and charge water on a table by his side, then I went into my bedroom. I put the envelope into a brief-case which I had already wrapped in cellophane. Going into the kitchen, I found a sheet of brown paper and string and made a parcel of the brief-case. All this took less than fifteen minutes.