It so happened that Howard Jackson and Beryl were seated at the table, eating sandwiches. They didn’t see Ng place the bags in the car’s trunk, but they heard the car start up.
Jackson kicked back his chair and went to the window in time to see the red rear lights of Kling’s car shoot away down the sandy road. He stepped out into the hot, humid night, moved to where he could see Kling’s cabin. He saw the sitting-room window, curtains drawn, was showing lights.
He returned to where Beryl was finishing her sandwich.
‘He’s gone out for the evening, leaving the Viet,’ he said, and sitting down, picked up another sandwich.
Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski sat in his car outside the Casino in the dreary hope there would be some action. The time was 22.15.
Lepski had had an unexpectedly good chicken-on-the-spit dinner that, more by luck than judgement, Carroll had cooked to perfection. The apple pie wasn’t all it should be, but after cutting away most of the burnt crust Lepski had enjoyed it.
As he sat in his seat, relaxed, he thought of Shannon Jamison’s kidnapping. The biggest sensation ever in Paradise City, and yet Chief of Police Terrell refused to make a move.
Lepski was certain that Shannon Jamison was holed up in Lucy Loveheart’s flesh emporium, and yet, because all the top-shots of the city patronized the place, the police were prohibited to raid it!
As soon as the ransom is paid, then we move in fast.
Lepski snorted. When the hell was the ransom going to be paid? Jamison had said he would alert Terrell once he had his wife back, then, possibly, it would be too late to catch the kidnappers.
Bored with staring bleakly at the Casino entrance, watching the rich get out of their cars and enter, eager to lose their money, Lepski decided to drive down to the harbour where there just might be some action.
He started his car and drove slowly through the dense traffic down to where the rich moored their luxury yachts.
He parked in the shadows, sat back, lit a cigarette and surveyed the scene. At this time, there was a lot of activity: tourists gaping at the yachts and motor cruisers, parties going on deck with men in tuxedos and women flashing their diamonds, eating, drinking and talking at the top of their voices.
He switched on his two-way radio.
‘Charlie? Tom. I’m down by the harbour. Any action?’
‘Not your kind, Tom,’ Tanner replied. ‘We’ve just had an alert that a car belonging to Mr van Roberts was stolen twenty minutes ago.’
‘Cars!’ Lepski moaned. ‘Some goddamn kid! Okay, let’s have it. I’ll watch for it.’
‘Dark red Caddy. No. PC5544.’
‘Okay.’ Lepski scribbled the number down on a pad. ‘I’ll watch out.’
‘All patrols have been alerted. Mr van Roberts is VIP and he’s hopping mad.’
‘Yeah, who isn’t VIP except you and me?’ Lepski snorted and switched off.
He went back to staring at the crowds on the waterfront.
For the past twenty minutes, Kling had been sitting in his car in the parking lot near Lucy Loveheart’s residence, smoking and waiting. His eyes constantly went to his watch.
While he waited, he thought of what he would do with five million dollars. He grinned to himself. For the first time in his dangerous life, he would be worth real money. He wondered how the kid was getting on. He would get a car and deliver it according to Kling’s instructions. Kling had no doubt about that. Not once had the kid taken a wrong step. It was odd that he seemed to have turned a bit soft about the woman, but that didn’t matter. The kid was young. When they reached Zurich and had collected the money, Kling would see if he could fix the kid up with some chick. That’s what the kid needed: to screw and be screwed. It would make all the difference to the kid’s outlook.
Kling again looked at his watch. Time to go! He slid out of his car. He paused to check that he had the key to the Whipping room, then he put his hand inside his other pocket and fingered the garotte. It would be quick, and no mess, he thought, as he set off along the sidewalk, keeping in the shadows.
Checking that no one was observing him, he walked quickly down the ramp to the underground garage that was lit by one overhead lamp.
Parked a few yards from the elevator was a glittering red Cadillac with the lid of the trunk half open.
Kling nodded to himself. Nice work, kid, he thought. Very nice work.
He pressed the down button of the elevator and when the cage arrived, he stepped in and thumbed the top floor button.
When the elevator came to a stop, Kling took out the garotte. He stepped into the passage and looked up and down the dimly lit corridor, listened, then moved over to the door of the Whipping room.
Silently he inserted the key and turned it gently, then eased open the door.
The sound of a Mozart concerto from the radio greeted him. He slid forward, leaving the door ajar, the garotte dangling in his fingers.
He saw her, sitting with her back to him, intent on the music, and his evil smile lit up.
Too easy! he thought, and moved like a phantom towards her. The garotte now a loop, ready to drop over her head.
Then steel-like fingers closed around the back of his neck. He felt a rush of blood to his head. He made an effort to claw away the fingers, then blackness descended, and he fell forward with a thump on the carpet.
With a scream, Shannon sprang to her feet and turned. She saw the Vietnamese youth staring down at a man who lay face down.
She began to back away, suppressing another scream.
‘Quick, ma’am!’ Ng gasped. ‘I am getting you out of here! Please come with me! We have only a few minutes before he recovers. Quick!’
Shannon, seeing the tragic expression on Ng’s face, immediately realizing he had come to rescue her, went to him.
Taking her by the wrist, he hurried her to the elevator. In the garage, he got her into the stolen Cadillac, slid under the steering-wheel and started the engine. He swept around and drove fast up the ramp onto the street.
‘Don’t say anything, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Listen, please. This is a stolen car. By now they will be looking for it. I haven’t much time.’
‘Oh, Kim!’ Shannon gasped. ‘I knew you would help me!’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ng said. ‘I had to help you.’ He swung the car onto a side street that led down to the water-front.
‘Was that man your master?’ Shannon asked.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ng caught his breath in a sob. ‘I have been disloyal. It’s something I can’t live with. I must tell you, ma’am. Don’t go home. Go to a true friend, but don’t go home.’
He found himself on the water-front. He had only a vague idea of the geography of the city and, seeing the crowded quay, he slowed the car to a crawl.
‘I don’t understand what you are saying, Kim.’
‘We must talk.’ ‘Ng saw a parking space and edged the big car between two other cars and cut the engine. He turned to look at her, his face showing suffering and tear marks. ‘Ma’am, please believe me. It was your husband who wanted to get rid of you. He hired my master to murder you. He paid five million dollars.’
‘Oh, no!’ Shannon gasped.
‘Please, believe me,’ Ng said and gripped her wrist. ‘You must keep away from him! He wants a child! Go to some friend who you can trust, but don’t go home. You understand?’
Shannon felt an icy chill run through her. Thinking of the last time she had talked to her husband, seeing his ruthless face, she realized this wasn’t fantasy.
Somewhere safe? Meg Clayton!
While they were talking, Lepski shifted his eyes to a newly parked car, then stiffened.
Red Caddy. No. PC 5544.
Goddamn it! he thought. Here’s the stolen car! He leaned forward and peered through his windshield. He saw there was a man and a woman, sitting side by side in the front seat.