At 09.00 the following morning, Hinkle appeared with the service trolley.
‘I trust you slept well, madame,’ he said as he poured the coffee.
‘Yes, thank you.’ The two sleeping pills had given Helga an excellent sleep. She was feeling relaxed and her mind was very alert. ‘I am sure you will be glad to get home, Hinkle.’
‘Yes, madame. I find hotel life disagreeable.’
‘Did Mr. Rolfe have a good night?’
‘Apparently. He is under sedation, madame.’
She stirred her coffee.
‘You saw Jones?’
Hinkle’s face darkened.
‘Yes, madame. He will be ready to travel after lunch.’
Casually, she said, ‘He seems to be intelligent.’
‘It would appear so.’ Hinkle’s voice conveyed his disapproval. ‘He has, of course, a lot to learn.’
So Dick — she was now thinking of him as Dick — had made no difficulties. She felt a surge of excitement.
‘I have to go out this morning and I will lunch in the grill-room.’
‘Everything will be packed, madame. I will take care of the hotel cheque. We will leave at 13.30.’
‘You are a great comfort to me, Hinkle.’ She smiled fondly at him.
‘It is good of you to say so, madame. I have already packed Mr. Rolfe’s clothes and papers.’ Hinkle paused. ‘The red folder containing the letter to Mr. Winborn is missing.’
Helga felt a chill run over her. She should have thought of this possibility. Her mind worked swiftly. It was vital to her to retain Hinkle’s trust. This was a sudden and dangerous situation. She had to keep him on her side.
‘You have been good enough to tell me that you approve of me,’ she said quietly, forcing herself to look directly at him. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you confided in me. I consider your confidence to be the act of a true friend, and Hinkle, I do need a friend.’
Hinkle’s fat face softened. He bowed slightly and his eye’s turned moist. She saw at once she was using the right approach.
‘You advised me to read this letter. I did. Hinkle, I apologize. When you said Mr. Rolfe’s mind was affected, I didn’t believe you. I couldn’t believe he has become a mental case. I saw him yesterday and I realized he has become a mental case. I now realize you are much wiser than I am. He looked at me with frightening hatred. I know people suffering from mental troubles turn on those they love the most. He and I have always been so close... so happy together. I have done everything I could do for him.’ She put her hands to her face and caught her breath in a choked sob, willing the tears to come.
‘Please, madame, don’t distress yourself,’ Hinkle said, his voice unsteady. ‘May I say...’
She looked up. A tear rolled down her cheek.
‘No, please don’t, Hinkle. This is distressing for us both. You have been so kind to me. I read the letter. If Mr. Winborn reads it, my future is finished.’ She lifted her hands in a gesture of despair. ‘I know, as you know, if Mr. Rolfe had been normal he would never have written such a cruel, unjust letter. I took it.’ She closed her eyes and another tear rolled. ‘Dr. Levi tells me that Mr. Rolfe can’t live much longer. I will keep the letter safely. If he recovers I will put the letter back among his papers, but if he dies — and pray God he won’t and I pray God this dreadful mental illness will pass — then I intend to destroy the letter.’ She looked directly at him. ‘Tell me if I am doing wrong.’
‘Madame,’ Hinkle said huskily, ‘I wouldn’t have suggested you read that letter unless I hoped you would remove it. This is a sad and shocking thing. I am afraid Mr. Rolfe is a very sick man and what you have done is right. It will give me great satisfaction, madame, to continue to serve you.’
Helga turned away, frightened he would see the triumph that jumped into her eyes.
‘Thank you, Hinkle,’ she said huskily.
She waited until the door closed, then she drew in a long deep breath. The cards were still falling for her. Trusting, kind Hinkle! She felt a pang of shame for deceiving him which she immediately dismissed.
Offence is better than defence.
Now for Jackson!
An hour later, she found parking in Ocean avenue and took the elevator to the fourth floor of Jackson’s office block. She tapped on the frosted glass panel of his door, turned the handle and walked into a small office.
She was calm and the steel in her gave her fatalistic courage. Before long she would know if bluff and courage would defeat Jackson or if he was really the tough cookie that Gritten had said he was.
Facing her was a battered desk at which sat a young coloured girl with frizzy hair. She was wearing faded blue Levis and a man’s crude coloured shirt, the tails knotted at her waist. She was reading a movie magazine and seeing Helga, her black eyes opened wide. Helga had deliberately dressed severely in a slate grey costume, relieved only by a string of pearls. Her cold sophistication and her hard, searching stare seemed to mesmerize the girl.
‘Mr. Jackson,’ Helga said, her voice snapping.
‘Yeah, ma’am.’
The girl slid off her seat and opened a door on her right.
‘You gotta customer,’ she said into the room.
Helga brushed the girl aside and entered a shabby office only slightly larger than the outer office. She looked around, noting the two windows were grimy, the carpet threadbare, the steel filing cabinets badly scored.
Jackson who had been reading a racing sheet, jumped to his feet, dropping the sheet on the floor.
‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he said, forcing a grin.
Helga looked him over. This wasn’t the immaculate blackmailer who had met her at the Pearl in the Oyster restaurant. This was Jackson in his working clothes; a shabby suit that needed pressing, a shirt with grubby cuffs and a food stain on the tie.
She waited until the girl had closed the door, then moving to a well worn leather chair by the desk, she sat down.
‘I am rather rushed, Mr. Jackson,’ she said. ‘Mr. Rolfe and I are leaving Nassau on the two o’clock flight. He has asked me to settle your account.’
Just for a moment, bewilderment showed in Jackson’s eyes, then he recovered himself and laughed.
‘That’s swell of him, Mrs. Rolfe. I’m happy to hear he has made such a quick recovery.’
‘How much does he owe you?’
Jackson’s eyes narrowed.
‘We had agreed about that, Mrs. Rolfe.’
‘How much does he owe you?’ Helga repeated.
‘You agreed to pay me ten thousand dollars.’
‘Mr. Rolfe will find that excessive.’
His face suddenly bleak, Jackson said, ‘That doesn’t concern me, Mrs. Rolfe.’ Then the confident jeering smile appeared. ‘That’s for you to arrange with him, isn’t it?’
Helga shrugged. She opened her bag and took out the ten one thousand dollar bills. She counted them so he could see them, then put them in her lap.
‘If you will give me a receipt for ten thousand dollars for two day’s work to give to Mr. Rolfe, I will pay you.’
His confident smile faded.
‘So you are still trying to act tricky. I warned you about that, didn’t I? That kite won’t fly. I’ll give you a receipt for one thousand dollars, the rest of the money is strictly between ourselves.’ He paused, then leaning forward his eyes like stones, he asked, ‘Have you got one of your fancy recorders in your bag?’
She nodded.
‘I have, but it is not recording.’ She took the tiny recorder from her bag. ‘I brought it along so you could hear a recording I made yesterday. It is a conversation between myself and Dick Jones, your fink as you call him.’
Jackson stiffened.
‘You may be a professional peeping Tom,’ Helga went on, ‘but you are a very amateur blackmailer.’