‘No, thank you.’ He came to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
Bewildered and uneasy, I sat opposite him.
There was a lamp on the table which I used when typing. He reached out and turned it off. That left two side lamps, making the room dimly lit.
‘Well, Jerry?’ he said. ‘How do you find life?’
What the hell is this? I thought. What was one of the richest and most powerful men in the world doing here, asking an unemployed actor how he found life? . . . I became more uneasy.
‘Life’s fine, sir,’ I said. ‘Thanks to you. I appreciate what you are doing for me.’
He nodded, moving his hands restlessly.
‘What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Oh, things. Swimming. It’s marvelous here. Marvelous city.’
He stared at me, his eyes showing tension.
‘I want you to do something for me, Jerry.’
That came as no surprise. He wouldn’t have come here without a reason.
‘That’s fine with me, sir.’
‘You have your make-up here?’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘I want you to take my place at my residence tonight.’ I was startled.
‘That’s okay, sir. Anything you say.’
‘There will be no problem. My car is outside. Put on the disguise and drive to my residence. The guards will let you in. You will go to my suite and remain there until you hear from me. No one knows that you will be impersonating me. The guards will think you are me. I have already told Jonas to serve meals in the suite and to see I am not disturbed. Do you understand.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. You are very valuable. Now, will you go and put on the disguise?’
Then something horrible and shocking happened.
John Merrill Ferguson’s right eyebrow became detached and dropped off. It fell, like an obscene caterpillar, on the table before us.
* * *
A long, explosive silence hung over the dimly lit room and a tension that only deep shock can produce. The man who I thought was John Merrill Ferguson suddenly released a soft moaning sound, then he kicked back his chair and started to his feet. He looked wildly around, like a panic stricken animal, searching to escape. Then he began a wild dash towards the open french windows.
My reaction was automatic. I thrust out my foot, caught his ankle and brought him down with a thud that shook the cabin. I came down on him, swept aside his flaying arms, pinned them with my knees, holding him helpless.
I stared down at his face, then I plucked the other eyebrow away and the moustache.
‘Who the hell are you?’ I demanded breathlessly.
He tried to throw me off, but I held him pinned.
‘Let me go!’ he gasped.
Still leaning my weight on his arms, I felt under his chin, found the join of the latex mask and levered it off his face.
I looked down at him as he stared, with despairing eyes, at me.
Then a shock ran through me: a shock that paralyzed me, and send cold waves down my spine.
I heard in my mind, Mazzo’s sneering voice: Jerks like him often have car accidents.
Pinned under my weight was Larry Edwards!
I scrambled off him and stood away, staring at him.
‘Larry! Good God! They told me you were dead!’ I exclaimed.
He got slowly to his feet. He looked haggard and frightened.
‘I’ve got to get out of here!’ he shrilled in an hysterical voice.
‘You’re not leaving here until you tell me what the hell’s going on,’ I said. ‘Sit down! I’ll get you a drink.’
He looked at the open french windows and then at me.
‘Don’t try it, Larry!’ I said. ‘I’ll break your goddamn arm if you don’t sit down and talk.’
He hesitated, then giving a hopeless shrug, he dropped into a lounging chair. Without taking my eyes off him, I moved to the liquor cabinet, poured a stiff scotch and gave it to him. He drank eagerly.
‘Why are you here? What’s the idea telling me to go to the residence?’ I demanded, standing over him.
‘I wanted to gain time,’ he muttered. ‘I’m sorry about that, Jerry. I was only thinking of myself.’
Moving around him, I sat opposite him.
‘What do you mean? Look, Larry, let’s have it from the beginning. What are you doing, disguised as Ferguson?’
So he talked.
He had the exact experience as I had. Lu Prentz had arranged for him to go to the Plaza hotel. He had met Mrs. Harriet. He had been drugged, waking up in Mrs. Harriet’s home. He had been offered the bribe of a thousand dollars a day. He had accepted, and Charles Duvine had worked on him. He had learned to forge Ferguson’s signature and imitate his voice. Finally, he had been flown to the Ferguson’s residence as I had been.
‘Did you meet Loretta?’ I asked.
He wiped the sweat from his face.
‘I couldn’t keep that crazy bitch out of my bed. All that talk about not being married, and some priest. I guess you got the same treatment.’
‘She’s dead. They murdered her.’
He flinched.
‘They told me she was sleepwalking.’
‘I was there when it happened. I heard her scream. You don’t scream when sleep walking. Mazzo broke her neck.’
‘No. Mazzo’s not like that. If anyone broke her neck it would have been Pedro. He’s Durant’s hitman. When he finds I’m not there, he will come after me. I’ve got to get the hell away from this goddamn city.’
‘But why two standins? I don’t understand. What have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been in Peking. Ferguson is mentally sick. They had to have you and they had to have me. You fooled the press while I fooled the Peking people. I went with a team. I just signed papers while the team did the talking. All the time, Ferguson was locked up in the residence.’
I thought of the man I had heard pacing up and down. Ferguson!
‘So what are you doing here?’
He held out his empty glass.
‘Give me a refill.’
This time, I made myself a drink as well.
As we drank, Larry said, ‘John Merrill Ferguson died at six o’clock this evening.’
I slopped my drink.
‘Died?’
‘Yeah . . . a massive heart attack.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You can say that again. Luck . . . only pure, unadulterated luck. I was in the Ferguson suite doing nothing. There was a sudden commotion: voices, trampling of feet, and I heard the key turn in my door. I was locked in. I kept listening: more voices. Then the telephone bell on the desk gave a tinkle. Luck! I lifted the receiver. They had forgotten to unplug the extension. Mazzo was on the line to Mrs. Harriet. He told her Ferguson had died. That woman! She took the news as if it was a weather forecast. She told Mazzo to do nothing until she arrived. Durant was in Washington. She said she would tell him. Then she said, and I can still hear her flat, cold voice, “Tell Pedro that Edwards and Stevens are now dispensable. Do you understand? Pedro will know what to do.” ’
I stiffened, turning cold.
‘She said that?’
‘I’m telling you! Then Mazzo told her Pedro was in Miami for the night, but he would follow her instructions tomorrow. She wanted to know if I knew her son was dead. Mazzo said I didn’t. I was locked in my room. She said she would be arriving tomorrow and hung up.’
‘You really mean she ordered our murders?’ I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
‘How many more times do I have to tell you!’ Larry shouted. ‘I waited until Mazzo went to bed, put on the mask, pushed the key out of the door onto a piece of paper, drew in the key, unlocked the door and walked out. Although the guards knew you were impersonating Ferguson, they really believed I was Ferguson. I had no trouble taking the Jaguar and driving here. The guard let me in, thinking I was Ferguson.’