Ham radio equipment was notoriously bad at accurate reproduction of voices, so Kelly said fine and then read the prepared statement into the mike:
“Sassi Manoon is alive and well. If she is to be returned, a ransom of four hundred thousand dollars must be paid. This money, in unmarked United States currency, must be sealed in a watertight container and dropped with a yellow marked buoy in the sea at latitude nineteen degrees twelve minutes north and longitude seventy-eight degrees five minutes west. It must be dropped at precisely four p.m. on Monday, December 4th. No ships or planes are to be in the area. If the money is not delivered, or if it is marked or watched, Sassi Manoon will never be seen alive again. This is the only message we will make, as we do not want the authorities to trace us through triangulation of later broadcasts. We are not listening to the radio or reading newspapers, and so can receive no messages other than the delivery of the money at the proper time. We do not wish to harm Miss Manoon, and promise her safe return if the money is paid.”
The pharmacist had wanted to talk when Kelly was done, but Kelly had merely told him to report to the authorities and had then sighed off. Now there was nothing to do but wait till Monday afternoon and see what happened. In the meantime, he had taken a grand tour of the manor, had found it in many respects quite similar to what he had in mind for himself when this was all over, and had finished the tour on the third-floor west balcony, just as the sun was setting.
He found Jigger there, sourly studying the sun. Both she and Sassi were free to go wherever they wanted on the island, since there were no weapons they could get to, the radio room was locked up, neither boat would start without an ignition key, and they wouldn’t get very far on the open sea in an open dinghy.
Jigger turned her head when Kelly stepped outside, increased the sourness of her expression, and said, “You.”
“That’s all right,” Kelly said. “I won’t bother you.” He went over to the edge and looked down at the pocket jungle below.
“You do bother me,” she said. “You bother me all the time. I should have screamed last night when I had the chance, in Sir Albert’s house. I shouldn’t have taken pity on you.”
The word pity stung. “What you shouldn’t have done,” Kelly answered, “was get so greedy. You wanted to know what was going on because you wanted in on it. You didn’t fool me for a second.”
“In on it? In on kidnapping? You must be crazy.”
“We’ll see,” Kelly said.
“In the first place,” Jigger told him, “you’ll never get away with it.”
“We’ll see,” Kelly said.
“And even if you do,” Jigger said, “I could identify you. And so could Sassi. So what are you going to do, kill us?”
“No,” Kelly said. “I just won’t go places where you are. The police can show you rogue’s gallery pictures, but I won’t be there. You’ll never see me again, so how can you identify me?”
“My time will come,” she said darkly.
Kelly looked at her. She was really very pretty, even though her brow was furrowed by anger. Normally, of course, he would have gone somewhere else on finding another person out here, and half of him had wanted to do so this time, but the other half found itself intrigued by this girl, had been intrigued by her since he’d first semi-seen her through smashed glasses in B. B. Bernard’s bedroom, and it was that half that had kept him out here on the balcony and in this conversation. It was also that half which now prompted him to say, “In a way, I’m sorry you won’t see me again.”
“Are you?” she said snottily. “Well, I’m not.”
It was the sort of rebuff human beings always gave other human beings, and Kelly realized he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Annoyed with himself for having forgotten what he knew about people, he shrugged his shoulders in irritation and left the balcony. A little kalah with Starnap was what he really wanted anyway. But going downstairs he couldn’t help but regret that she hadn’t turned out to be different from all the rest.
Sassi counted rooms, and the bar was number eleven. That was a good number to quit on, a lucky number. She found a glass, found ice, found Scotch, found sweet vermouth, and combined them in a way pleasing to eye and palate. She then sat down in a handy black leather chair, gazed at the black rectangle of night outside a handy window, and considered her situation and prospects.
They didn’t seem to her entirely bad. Now that she’d had a chance to look at the gang who’d kidnapped her, she’d entirely lost her fear for her own safety. What a crew! It was the damnedest example of miscasting she’d ever seen. With the possible exception of the Major, there wasn’t one of this mob who looked right for the part, and even the Major looked more slick than sinister.
Though why should they look sinister? Sassi could see this affair now for what it actually was, and there was nothing sinister about it. It was a straightforward business proposition, that’s all. They were holding her until the studio coughed up X dollars. Simple enough. She’d had agents doing the same thing for years.
So there was nothing to worry about. All she had to do was sit back and relax until the business dickering was done, and then she’d go back to work. Nothing to it.
Nothing in the glass, either. Sassi, feeling more and more at ease with the world, got up and made herself a fresh drink. She was on her way back to her chair when in came her co-kidnappee, the girl who called herself Jigger. “Welcome to Key Largo,” Sassi said, and sat down again.
Jigger came over, looking tense. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. Her face was intent, her voice low with meaning.
“You have?”
“We’ve got to make plans.”
Sassi frowned at her. “What plans?”
“To get out of here,” Jigger said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sassi stared at her in disbelief. “To do what?”
“Get out of here,” Jigger repeated, low and urgent. “I’ve got some ideas, how we could do it.”
“You’re kidding,” Sassi said.
“We could do it,” Jigger insisted. “You think we couldn’t outfox these guys?”
Sassi was about to tell her what she thought when she saw Jigger’s expression suddenly change, becoming wary and guarded. Someone else had come in.
Twisting around, Sassi saw it was the boy with the voices, her friend from the boat. “There it is,” he said, pointing at the bar. “I’ve been looking for that thing. Hello, ladies. May I join you?”
“Be our guest,” Sassi told him. “We were just having a caucus of the escape committee.”
Otto Preminger replied, “Zis Stalag is guaranteed escape-proof, I guarantee it.” He went on over to the bar.
Jigger, her voice loaded with meaning, said, “I’ll talk to you later, Sassi,” and drifted out of the room.
“Sure,” Sassi told her back. When Jigger was safely gone, Sassi got to her feet, went over to the bar where her friend was making himself a drink that seemed to be mostly ice cubes in a tall glass, and said, “Buddy, you’re a lifesaver.”