“You and your pimp can go to hell!” Archer snarled. “As long as I have those photographs I’m safe… without them, I’m not.”
“If you sign this letter Jack, and I get the photos, I give you my solemn promise that Herman won’t prosecute, but you’ll have to lose the account. I promise you won’t go to prison.”
“What’s your promise worth to me? It’s stalemate, you bitch. I’m not signing.”
“Larry promised me he would make you sign,” Helga said, trying desperately to quell the panic and despair rising in her. “That means he will ill-treat you. For God’s sake, Jack! I don’t want you hurt. Please sign this letter!”
Archer stared at her, his eyes narrowing.
“I told you… it’s stalemate! If this ape starts knocking me about, he could kill me. “In the event of my death”… remember? I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone. I have a bad heart. My quack warned me on no account was I to over-exert myself. So go ahead if you want me dead. Tell your ape to start knocking me about.”
Larry, chewing gum, was listening to all this, his eyes shifting from Helga to Archer and back to Helga again. He saw the dismay growing in Helga’s eyes and he moved into action.
He went up to Archer.
“Up on your feet!” he said. “You and me are going downstairs. Come on.”
“No!” Helga’s voice was shrill. “Don’t touch him!”
“It’s okay, ma’am. I’m not touching him unless I have to. I want to talk to him. On your feet, buster.”
Archer stood up.
“Keep away from me! I’m walking out of here and I’m daring either of you to stop me! Now, get out of my way!”
With a movement like a striking snake, Larry’s big hand closed over Archer’s wrist, twisted, had Archer spinning around and then bending his arm he had him in a paralysing grip. Helga jumped to her feet.
“Larry! No!”
“It’s okay,” Larry said quietly. “He doesn’t want to drop dead, do you, Fatso? Move with the legs.”
Her heart hammering, Helga watched Larry march Archer out of the room. She heard them going down the stairs and she walked unsteadily to an armchair and sank into it and put her hands to her face.
Her bluff had been called. From the moment she had agreed to let Larry help her, she had a feeling it would end in disaster. She dare not risk Archer dying. It would be better to submit to his blackmail. Jumping to her feet, she ran into the hall and paused as she saw Larry coming up the stairs from the cellars.
“What have you done with him?”
“He’s okay, ma’am. I’ve locked him in one of the cellars… the one at the far end… the empty one. He can’t get out. I thought maybe you and me ought to have a talk before we do anything more.”
She went back into the sitting-room. 119
“We must let him go, Larry.”
“Do you think he’s bluffing about his bad heart, ma’am?”
She lifted her hands helplessly.
“How do I know? He looks like a man with heart trouble. I don’t know, but if you try to force him to sign and he the dies… no, Larry, we can’t do it.”
Larry rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mind if I have a beer, ma’am?”
“No… help yourself… have anything!”
He went over to the bar, opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of beer.
“This is pretty handy, isn’t it, ma’am? You’ve certainly got it all laid on. Do you want something?”
“No.”
She sat in despair, trying to think of a way out and finding none.
I’ll make you two pay for this!
He would, of course. He knew Larry was an Army deserter. He would inform against him. Herself? He would be merciless, bleeding the account with impunity, making her cover up his embezzlement.
“Look, ma’am, take it easy,” Larry said. He carried his glass of beer from the bar and sat down opposite her. “We can still fix this. Have you got a copy of his signature?”
She stiffened and looked quickly at him.
“Yes, but I could never forge it.”
“Could I see it, ma’am?”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“Could I see it, ma’am?”
She went to the desk, found a file containing the dozens of letters Archer had written to her concerning business transactions. She looked at the almost indecipherable signature. No… to forge that wasn’t possible.
She handed one of the letters to Larry who looked at it.
“A real mean signature, isn’t it, ma’am?”
“Yes, but his bank knows it. It is impossible to forge.”
“Maxie could do it with his eyes shut.”
She stiffened.
“Who?”
“Maxie Friedlander… the guy who fixed my passport. He could do it.”
The feeling of utter defeat and despair that was crushing her lifted.
“Would he?”
Larry smiled his warm, friendly smile.
“From what Ron tells me, ma’am, Maxie would cut his own throat if the money was right. Yeah… he’d do it.”
“He wouldn’t ask questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But he would have to see the letter, Larry. It gives my address. He could blackmail me.”
“He needn’t see the letter. You could cover it up. Anyway, Maxie wouldn’t 121
want trouble. You pay him enough and there’ll be no kick-back.”
“How much would he want?”
“I don’t know that, ma’am. Maybe what you paid him for my passport. I’ll get it as cheap as I can.”
She leaned forward, clasping her hands.
“Will you do it?”
“Why, sure, ma’am. Ron told me I was to help you and that’s what I’m going to do. Give me the money and I’ll go now if you’ll let me have your car. I reckon it’ll take me a little over five hours to get to Basle.” He looked at the ornate clock on the overmantel. “It’s now nearly two o’clock. I’ll be with Maxie around seven o’clock. Maybe he’ll take an hour for the job. I’ll be back here by two in the morning. How’s that?”
Again she had the feeling of pending disaster, but she could think of no other alternative.
“Thank you, Larry. Take the car. What about… him?”
“I’ll fix him up before I go. He’ll want something to eat and a bucket to pee in. You leave all this to me. I’ll be off in half an hour.”
He went briskly into the kitchen.
She sat mere for some moments, trying to convince herself that this new plan could save her, but she was too shaken and uneasy to think coherently. She got up and went into the kitchen to find Larry boiling four eggs and defrosting bread in the oven.
“This will keep him going, ma’am, until I get back. Keep away from him. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Don’t take risks, Larry. For God’s sake, don’t have an accident.”
“I’ll watch it, ma’am. Will you get the letter ready?”
“Yes.”
She went back to the sitting-room, found two sheets of typing paper and put the letter between them, leaving room for the signature space to protrude. She taped the two sheets together, completely concealing the letter. She folded it carefully and put it in a large envelope.
It would mean another day’s delay, she thought. She had to see the letter before she posted it to the Bank. She had to be sure the signature would be acceptable.
Then she went into the room. Herman used as a study, pushed back one of the oak panels to reveal a small safe. She spun the dial, opened the safe and took from it a leather folder. From the folder, she counted our forty one hundred franc notes. Returning the folder and relocking the safe, she went back to the sitting-room.
“Larry?”
As he didn’t reply, she went to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. She went to the top of the stairs leading to the cellar. She could hear him talking. Moving quietly, she went down a few of the stairs to hear better.
She heard him say, “Make yourself at home, Fatso. You’ve got food now and it won’t be long before we let you go. Just take it easy.”