I spun around, my heart jumping.
Wes Jackson was standing just behind me, his teeth showing in his shark’s smile. He held out his fat hand.
‘I’m representing Mrs. Essex. She has asked me to collect the photos from you.’
‘She’ll get them, but from me.’
‘She anticipated that would be your reaction.’ He handed me a slip of paper. ‘Here is an authorisation.’ His little eyes dwelt on my face. ‘She doesn’t want to see you again.’
I took the slip of paper.
Jack Crane,
Hand the blackmail photographs to Mr. Jackson.
From this moment you are no longer employed by Essex Enterprises.
Lane Essex
I stared at the signature, then at Jackson.
‘So she told him?’
‘Naturally. No one has ever succeeded in blackmailing the Essex people: no one ever will. Give me the photographs.’
I gave them to him.
‘Thank you. Now, Crane, let’s sit down for a few minutes. Let us both witness the end of this sordid little drama. It will interest you.’ He laid his fat hand on my arm and guided me to two lounging chairs that faced the elevators. He sat down and glanced at the photographs, then put them in his pocket.
I sat down.
From this moment you are no longer employed by Essex Enterprises.
I had anticipated this, but all the same it came as a shock.
‘You will leave Paradise City immediately,’ Jackson said. ‘You will be wise never to return. You can consider yourself fortunate. When discussing your case. Mr. Essex took into consideration that you did save Mrs. Essex’s life. This weighed in your favour. I am sure you will be wise enough to say nothing to anyone of what has happened. I can tell you we have withdrawn the insurance claim for the Condor and by doing this, we have neutralised the blackmail threat. The other photo means nothing.’
‘They’re getting away with half a million dollars,’ I said, ‘You call that smart?’
He smiled, looking more like a shark than ever.
‘No one gets away with anything when dealing with Mr. Essex.’ He stretched out his long, thick legs. ‘Ah! Do look. Crane. This will interest you.’
One of the elevator doors slid open. Pam, followed by Aulestria came out into the lobby. Behind them were two beefy looking men with cop written all over them.
Aulestria’s face was ashen. Pam looked as if she were about to collapse. The two men herded them across the lobby and down to a waiting car.
Another man, again with cop written all over him. came from another elevator, carrying the two suitcases I had seen in Aulestria’s room. He set them down and came over to Jackson. He dropped the heavy envelope containing the bonds into Jackson’s lap.
‘No problem,’ he said and picking up the suitcases, he walked to the exit, got in the waiting car which drove rapidly away.
‘Now you see, how our organisation works,’ Jackson said smugly. ‘Those three men are ex-police officers. They will escort those two petty blackmailers onto a plane to Merida: it is a chartered flight and they will have the plane entirely to themselves. Arriving at Merida they will be met by an extremely hostile reception. I need not mention that Mr. Orzoco has been alerted. Aulestria stupidly took funds belonging to Mr. Orzoco’s party. They will know how to deal with him and with the woman. Aulestria is under the impression that the men escorting him belong to the City police. Every word you and he exchanged was taped and they have played the tape back to him. He imagines he is going to be prosecuted for blackmail. It won’t be until he is put on board the plane that he will realise what is happening: then it will be too late.’ He gave me his shark’s smile. ‘Little, stupid people Crane, like yourself. There is an old saying: the clay pot should never go down stream with the gold pot. The clay pot invariably gets broken.’ I could see he was enjoying himself. ‘You perhaps didn’t realise that I had arranged for a bug to be planted on you when you first called on Aulestria. You might give it to me. It’s in your right coat pocket.’
Dazed, I groped in my pocket and came up with a black object no bigger than an Aspro pill. Then I remembered the man who had lurched against me.
As I gave Jackson the bug, I said, ‘So what happens to me?’
‘Nothing.’ He heaved himself to his feet and regarded me contemptuously. ‘Nothing ever will,’ and he walked away, leaving me staring after him.
Perhaps he will be wrong. Ever is a long time.
I sat there thinking of my old man, the small time town and the garage that could still be for sale.
I suddenly felt a surge of confidence.
After all Henry Ford began small, didn’t he?