Frost took a chair near her and read the document carefully. He read the small print even more carefully. All money due to him in wages were paid direct to the agency. Having made commission deductions, what was left was to be paid into an account in his name with the National Florida Bank. He was insured for ten thousand dollars against accident, the premium deducted from his earnings. If he didn’t hold the job for more than two weeks, there would be a further deduction of fifty percent on the last week’s salary.
‘You certainly know how to look after yourselves,’ he said taking the pen she offered and signing.
She didn’t bother to answer that one.
‘How about a little celebration dinner tonight?’ he said, without much hope. ‘I could show you my press cuttings, and you could show me yours.’
She gave him a stony stare.
‘Piss off,’ she said, and reached for the telephone.
You can’t win all the time, Frost thought as he took the elevator to the ground floor, but, at least, you can try.
Paradise Largo turned out to be an isthmus linking E.1 to A.1.A. highways, halfway between Paradise City and Fort Lauderdale.
The causeway to the estate was guarded by a lodge and an electronically controlled barrier.
A big hunk of beef, in a bottle green uniform, a .45 colt on his hip, surveyed the VW as Frost pulled up before the barrier. He then surveyed Frost who could see from the expression on the guard’s face, he didn’t think anything of the car nor of him.
Taking his time, the guard came out of the lodge and took Frost’s driving licence.
‘Jack Marvin’s expecting me,’ Frost said. ‘Mr. Grandi’s place.’
The guard read everything, including the small print on the licence, then handed it back.
‘Second on the right and straight ahead to the next guard house,’ he growled, then went back into the lodge.
Frost took the second on the right and drove down a broad avenue, newly sanded. On either side were ten feet high hedges. Every now and then, the hedges were broken by high, oak nail studded gates, leading to some villa. To Frost, the smell of wealth was overpowering.
At the end of the road, he came to another guardhouse. The barrier was up and another hunk of beef was waiting.
‘Straight ahead,’ he said, staring at the VW as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Park in bay 10. Marvin’s there, waiting for you.’
Frost drove over a fifty-yard long bridge, spanning the seawater canal. Ahead of him he could see an island in the middle of the lagoon. The island was screened by closely planted mango trees. Over the bridge, he saw ahead, ten-foot high double gates. They swung open as he reached the far end of the bridge. As he drove on to a broad sandy drive, he saw, behind the screen of mango trees a ten-foot high fence of electrified wire. In his driving mirror, he saw the double gates had already swung shut.
A hundred yard drive through a forest of papaya and loquat trees brought him to Grandi’s residence.
The villa was two-storey, Spanish style, covered with red and white bougainvillea. The villa probably had some fifteen bedrooms. To Frost, it looked enormous. In the front of the villa was half an acre of lawn and a small lake with a playing fountain. Beds of roses and begonias made splashes of colour.
Near the villa was the car park. A cream and brown Rolls Camargue sneered at a sky blue Lamborghini that, in its turn, sneered at a silver Benz.
As Frost parked the VW in bay 10, a tall, thin man, wearing a grey suit, dark blue slacks tucked into Mexican boots, came out of the shade and advanced towards him. On his hip was a .38 police special. He wore an Australian style hat, the sides laced up.
As Frost got out of the car, the thin man joined him. Steady, steel grey eyes set in a thin, hard face, surveyed Frost, then he thrust out his hand.
‘Jack Marvin.’
Frost shook hands.
‘Mike Frost.’
‘Suppose we walk around, and I’ll wise you up on the job?’ Marvin said. ‘The first thing you’ll want is a uniform like mine. I’ll tell you where to get it. I’ve already talked to the cops, and all you have to do is to go to the cop house for a gun permit. We have an armoury here, and you can take your pick. As you’ll be on duty at 20.00 tonight, there’s a bit of a hustle.’ He moved into the shade and led Frost down a narrow path, bordered by orchid trees, talking as he went. ‘This is an easy job. The security is more or less taken care of by electronics, but all the same, you have to be constantly on the alert. In the guardroom in the villa there is an alarm panel and TV scanners. Your job is to watch the alarm panel and the scanners, and keep watching. It’s a hell of a boring chore. I guess you spotted the electrified fence as you came in. Don’t go near it. It’s lethal. If some smart ass, using insulated cutters, opens a way in, an alarm alerts the cop house and shows on the panel in the guardroom. The island is completely enclosed by the fence. We don’t reckon to have trouble during the day. There are too many boats on the lagoon, and as you’ve seen, the entrance is well guarded. At 21.00, four Doberman Pinschers have the run of the island. They are killers: make no mistake about that. When on night shift, you stay in the guardroom. Don’t go out unless you want your throat torn out. The dogs know me. I let them out and lock them up when I come on duty during the day.’ They came out of the shade, and into the open by the fence at the back of the island. Frost could see the seawater canal ahead. Already there were a number of motor cruisers and yachts roaming aimlessly. The crews were either fat old men and their fatter wives or lean young men with their dolls. The scene reeked of wealth. ‘Just along here,’ Marvin said, ‘is where the boats are kept.’ He moved on and reached a gate, overlooking a harbour in which floated a sixty-foot motor yacht, a Cris-craft and a dinghy with an outboard motor. Marvin waved to the boats. ‘All so much waste of money. No one uses them, but they are there, if anyone wants to.’ He spat at the fence. ‘I guess all these rich punks on the estate have boats, so we have boats too.’
Leaving the harbour, he led Frost towards the villa. Frost was absorbing the scene, missing nothing. Finally, they came to the villa, and Marvin led Frost along a broad sandy lane until they paused before an oak, nail studded door.
‘This leads to the guardroom,’ Marvin said, producing a key. He unlocked the door and Frost followed him into a large, air-conditioned room. There was a battery of TV sets against a wall. By them was a big panel covered with red, yellow and green lamps. On another wall was a gun rack. The arsenal was impressive: two shotguns, two automatic rifles, a tear gas exploder and a range of handguns. A table and two chairs occupied the centre of the room. Two lounging chairs stood before the TV sets.
‘Here’s where you work nights,’ Marvin said, closing the door. ‘You sit in one of those chairs and watch the panel and the monitors. You keep awake. Joe went to sleep, and Old Creepy caught him. If you want to stay with this job, you don’t go to sleep. You have the night shift this week, I take it next week.’ He went to a big closet, opened it to reveal a refrigerator. From it he took two cans of beer, gave one can to Frost and waved him to a chair.
Frost sat down, saluted Marvin and drank.
‘Old Creepy? Frenzi Amando? Solomon mentioned him.’
Marvin nodded and sat down.
‘Right. The original sonofabitch. I like this job. The bread’s fine. The conditions are good. Wait until you see your living quarters: very, very nice. I’ve been here now for three months, but old Creepy spoils the scene. There have been times when I’ve nearly banged his rat teeth through the back of his neck. He looks for trouble. The sonofabitch loves trouble. He loves waving his power.’ Marvin drank from the can. ‘So if you want to keep this job, and it’s worth keeping, watch it with Amando.’