“Larry!” Helga screamed.
Archer stumbled on the stairs and fell on his knees. He was so heavy and cumbersome he took a long moment to get to his feet. By then Larry was up and he grabbed hold of Archer’s left ankle. Archer kicked back wildly with his right foot which whistled by Larry’s face. Larry hauled him back down the stairs.
Cursing, Archer broke free and rolled over. Lying on his back, panting, he glared helplessly up at Larry.
As Larry got set to kick him, Helga screamed, “Don’t touch him!”
Scowling, Larry stepped back and wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.
Lying still, Archer looked up at Helga, his face a blotchy white.
“So you’ve got your pimp back,” he said huskily. “All right… you win. Just leave me alone.”
She felt a moment of pity. The bruise on the side of face had extended and was now blue and yellow. His lips swollen and dried blood caked on his chin. He looked old, frightened and defeated.
I warned you, Jack,” she said shakily. “I’m sorry.”
“I imagine.” His voice was bitter. Slowly he crawled to his feet and leaned against the wall. “Sorry? You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.”
She pointed to the panics room.
“You’ll be comfortable in there. I’ll get you a drink.”
He lurched by Larry who was tense, his huge hands on his hips, his jaw moving as he chewed. Then Archer passed Helga and went into the games room.
Helga went unsteadily up the stairs to the sitting-room. She mixed a double whisky and soda, added ice and carried the drink down to the games room.
Archer was sitting in one of the lounging chairs, his head in his hands. She put the drink on the covered billiard table.
“Do you want something to eat?”
“Oh, go to hell!” He said wearily and without viciousness. “Leave me alone.”
She went out and closed the door. Motioning Larry to follow her, she climbed the stairs.
“Put the pole back, Larry,” she said and went into the sitting-room. With shaking hands she opened the envelope Larry had brought back and took out the three sheets of paper, stripped off two and looked at the letter. The signature was a replica of Archer’s scrawl. She found one of Archer’s letters and compared the two signatures, then she drew in a shaky breath of relief.
She was sure the Bank would accept the forgery.
“Is it okay, ma’am?” Larry asked as he came into the room.
“Yes, I think so. Did he ask questions?”
Larry shook his head.
“He wanted five thousand but I beat him down to three five. I spent money on gas, but I have some change for you.”
“Don’t bother me with that!” she said impatiently. She went to her desk and typed an envelope. “I’m going down to Lugano to mail this. If you’re hungry there’s food on the table in the kitchen. It should be defrosted by now.”
“I’ll mail it, ma’am. The roads are bad and it’s snowing hard.”
“No! I won’t stay here alone. I’m going.”
“Be careful, ma’am. The roads are real mean.”
She went into the hall and put on her coat. He followed her and stood lolling against the wall, chewing, and watching her.
“Don’t go to sleep until I get back,” she said. “Eat something.” She looked at the pole jammed against the cellar door. “He can’t get out, can he?”
Larry grinned.
“With me around, ma’am, he won’t try.”
She put on her hat and looked at herself in the hall mirror. God! she thought, how old I look!
She put the letter in her bag. She found a pair of fur-lined boots in the recess and put them on.
“I won’t be long.”
“Okay, ma’am… if you’re sure you want to go.”
She opened the front door and shivered as the cold bit at her. She cautiously made her way down the snow-covered steps. On the fourth step she nearly slipped but recovered.
“Watch it, ma’am!” Larry said from the opened doorway. She kept on and reached the garage. Once inside the warm car she relaxed a little. She knew the road down to Lugano well. She knew the three danger points. She set the in motion. The snow tyres bit into the snow and she drove cautiously.
She met no other car nor any other person. Three times the car went into a skid, but she was an experienced driver and although she hated skids, she controlled the car.
Eventually, after some fifteen minutes of difficult driving, she reached the Central Post Office. She parked the car, got out and dropped the letter into the box.
With the snow falling heavily, making her coat into a white mantle, she stood for a moment, relaxing.
The first step in the operation was completed. Now it remained to be seen if the Bank would send the envelope. Shaking the snow off her coat, she went back to the car and got in. She lit a cigarette, staring through the windshield while she thought. The time by the lighted clock on the dashboard was 03.55. She realized how deadly tired she was. She thought with dread of the thirty odd hours ahead of her before she could expect a reply from the bank. If this snow continued, there would be no question of Herman surprising her. He took too good care of himself to fly when the weather was bad.
She shifted the lever to Drive and drove back towards Castagnola. Driving around the steep climbing bend into the village, the Mercedes got out of control. The back wheels skidded and the car turned broadside on across the road and then began to slide sideways down the hill. She spun the driving wheel, touched the gas pedal and got the bonnet of the car pointing up hill again, but the hill was too steep for a take-off and the wheels merely spun, moving the rear of the car until the wheels thudded against the kerb. She sat motionless for some moments wondering what to do. Finally she decided she must make a new attack on the hill. She went into reverse and backed slowly down the hill until she reached the entrance to Cassarate which was on the level. She paused, fighting her tiredness, then drawing on her reserve stamina, she again started up the hill. This time she kept her foot very lightly on the gas pedal, but just enough to keep the engine going. In this way, with the snow biting, the car crawled up the hill.
She realized there was no question of her getting the car up the private road to the villa. When the entrance was in sight, she pulled the car to the side of the road and got out.
Leaving the parking lights on, she slipped and slid up the drive, until she finally reached the front door of the villa. She was cold, stunned and exhausted as she pressed the door bell.
After a brief delay, Larry opened the door.
“You made it, ma’am.”
Wearily, she took off her coat and thrust it into his hands.
“Shake it. Don’t bring all that snow into the house.”
She sank on to the chest, closing her eyes. The warmth that seeped through her was comforting.
“It’s mean out there, isn’t it?” he said as he shut the door.
“Yes… I had to leave the car in the road.”
She took off her hat and let it drop on the floor.
“Food’s ready, ma’am. Come on and eat.”
She shook her head.
“No. I couldn’t. I’m going to bed. I must sleep.” Her voice broke. “I’m so tired.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Your room is at the end of the corridor, Larry.” She could smell the fillet of pork and the onions cooking. The smell made her cringe.
She got wearily to her feet and walked towards her bedroom, then she paused and looked back.
“Is he all right?” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Shouldn’t you give him something to eat?”
“You go to bed, ma’am. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Larry said gently. “I’ll take care of him.”
She was too tired to care.
“Good night, Larry… and thank you.”