When listening to the conversation between Marcia and Frost, he thumped his fist into his palm. Here, at last, he thought, could be the Big One.
Ever since Carlo Grandi had rented the island villa on Paradise Largo, Silk, knowing this villa had been rented as a sanctuary for Grandi’s daughter, had considered the possibilities of kidnapping the girl. The ransom, he knew, would be enormous. He was sure Grandi would pay at least twenty million dollars to get his daughter back.
Urged on by the thought of owning so many millions, Silk had discussed the possibilities with two men who worked with him, and who were also on Radnitz’s payroll.
These two men, Mitch Goble and Ross Umney, were experts at setting up an operation. Silk had told them to take a long look at Grandi’s place, and to estimate the chances of snatching the girl.
After a few days, they came to Silk and told him to forget the idea. No one, they said, was going to snatch Grandi’s daughter, not, at least, as the present setup stood. They explained about the security of the island, the dogs, and particularly about Marvin.
‘If this fink could be approached,’ Goble said, ‘there’s a good chance, but no way. Marvin can’t be bought. I’ve gone into his background in depth. He’s one hundred percent straight ex-cop, and no one, repeat no one, will bend him. No dice, Lu, skip the idea.’
So regretfully, Silk had put the idea out of his mind. When Goble said there was no way, he meant just that. Silk had learned to trust Goble’s judgment. A couple of times in the past he had brushed Goble’s advice aside, and each time, he had nearly run into disaster. Now, he knew better.
So okay, he thought regretfully, Grandi’s daughter stays safe.
But listening to the conversation between Marcia and Frost, he realised that the chance to pick up around twenty million dollars was no longer a pipe dream.
When Marcia had excused herself to Frost to make a telephone call, she had contacted Silk. He had told her to give Frost the V.I.P. treatment.
‘Sink your hooks into this guy,’ Silk had said. ‘I need him.’
As Silk moved into the room, Marcia gave him a scared, hesitant smile.
‘Was it okay?’ she asked.
‘Okay, so far,’ Silk said. ‘Get this into your head, chick, we need this guy, so keep him hot. I’ll handle the rest of the scene. Your job is to keep him hot.’
Marcia nodded. When Silk gave instructions, she always obeyed.
‘You’re a smart chick,’ Silk said as he sat on the arm of a chair. ‘You’re asking yourself why we need this guy. I’ll spell it out to you. In a few months this joint is going to fold. You don’t understand figures, but I do. Your overheads are far too high. That black boy playing the piano is fine, but he eats your profits. Your wage bill is also eating into your profits. I looked at your balance sheet for last month. You’re already in the red. Did you look at it?’
‘Charlie showed it to me. I thought next month...’
‘There could be no next month. Do you want to keep this joint?’
Marcia’s eyes opened wide.
‘Keep it? It’s my future!’
‘What it now needs is a big shot in the arm, and Frost can give it, and he can give it to me too, so keep him hot.’
‘How can he? He’s worth nothing.’
‘You keep him hot. I’ll handle the rest of the scene.’ He stared at her, his glass eye glittering in the sunlight, then he reached for the telephone.
‘Give me Mr. Umney,’ he told the operator on the club switchboard.
‘Yes, sir.’
He waited.
Then Umney came on the line.
‘Hi, there, Lu!’
Silk began to talk.
‘Hi, there, Mr. Frost!’
Frost, who had been standing in the shade, watching the clients disporting themselves in the vast swimming pool, looked around.
A heavily built, jovial looking man had come up to him. His fleshy face, with a wide, friendly smile, exuded charm. Tall, muscular, around thirty-six years of age, dark and sun-tanned, wearing only white slacks, Ross Umney conveyed a bonhomie that was slightly overpowering.
It was said of Umney, and with reason, that he could charm a rat out of its hole, a lollypop from a child, a big chunk of money from a shrewd businessman, and even the platinum dental plate from a dowager.
Umney was considered by the Paradise City’s criminal fraternity as the best con man in the game. Behind his jovial, smiling face and his charm lurked a ruthless, vicious mind intent only on conning some sucker out of his/her money.
Silk, who was top of his profession as a hired killer, regarded Umney as a big asset. Without Umney to set up an operation, Silk’s various assignments would have been next to impossible.
Umney had a remarkable ability to finger closely guarded, near inaccessible men whom Radnitz wanted out of the way. Umney was able to gather essential data without creating suspicion, and this data he passed on to Mitch Goble who was Silk’s technical expert. Goble in his turn, would assess the data, then pass judgment. If he gave the green light, Silk would then, and only then, move into action.
Umney had been relaxing in his air-conditioned room, above the kitchens of the restaurant, when Silk’s telephone call came through. He listened to what Silk had to say, then said, ‘Can do — will do,’ and he went in search of Frost. Finding him, Umney switched on his charm.
‘Hi, there, Mr. Frost!’
As he offered his hand, Umney regarded Frost, thinking: ‘This cookie is no push over. Softly, softly. He will need handling.’
Puzzled, and a little suspicious, Frost shook the extended hand.
‘I’m Ross Umney,’ Umney went on, exuding charm. ‘I’m the official host around here. My job is to keep everyone happy. Marcia told me to take care of you... this is my pleasure. You know something, Mr. Frost?’ He paused and beamed, then went on, ‘Or may I call you Mike?’
Still suspicious, but relaxing to Umney’s charm, Frost nodded.
‘Fine... Mike. As I was saying, when Marcia gives one of her special friends the V.I.P. treatment, I give him the V.I.P. treatment or else...’ He laughed. ‘That’s my job. What can I do for you? You name it, you’ll get it. How about a swim in the pool? There’s a boutique here to fit you out. Do you want company? We have a load of hostesses. They are all willing, and you can take your pick. Would you dig our massage parlour? We have two Jap babes who really know their business. We have a movie here. You say the word, and I can fix it for a private show. Our movies are so hot we have to use an asbestos screen.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe you like fishing? We have a trout pool. Maybe you like golf? We have a driving range. We have a car shuttle service down to the sea. Maybe you’d like to take one of our babes for a fast ride in a speedboat? Water skiing? Skin diving? You name it, Mike, you get it.’
While Frost was staring at this smiling, jovial man, unable to believe that he was being offered all these trappings of the rich, a short, fat man came up.
‘How about my boat, Ross?’ he demanded, a peevish frown on his face. ‘You said you’d fix it.’
‘Hi, there, Mr. Bernstein. It’s all fixed. Did you ask at the desk?’
‘Didn’t know I had to. Where the hell is the car?’
Umney pointed.
‘The green Caddy, Mr. Bernstein. Joe’s waiting... no problem.’
The fat man grunted and walked off.
Umney sighed, smiling at Frost.
‘That’s Bernstein. He’s worth millions. You know, Mike, this is a hell of a job. None of these rich creeps is ever satisfied. Now... you... what can I fix for you?’