Like a Hole in the Head Page 18

  “When Savanto gets a hole in his head,” I said suddenly, “what will you do?”

  Raimundo lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me. “It’s a pipe dream, soldier. I wish I could make you believe it.”

  “Don’t answer the question if you don’t want to. Why should I care?”

  There was a long pause as Raimundo studied me.

  “If he did get a hole in his head,” he said finally, “I’d go back to my wife and kids in Caracas.”

  “So you have a wife and kids?”

  “Yeah… four kids… three boys and a girl.”

  “With Timoteo dead and the old animal dead… what happens?”

  “I guess Lopez will become Boss. There’s no one else What sort of man is he?”

  “Short of brains but peaceful.”

  “Would he take care of you?”

  “I wouldn’t want his care. He would leave me alone. That’s all I would want. I have a farm. My wife looks after it. With me working with her, it would become something important.”

  “So you have something to plan for… a future?”

  He got the message.

  “I guess I have.”

  There came a tap on the door.

  I whipped Raimundo’s automatic from under my pillow and covered it in my hand with the bed sheet.

  “Open up,” I said softly. “Get your back to the wall and swing the door open slowly.”

  Raimundo was off the bed and by the door in a smooth, silent flash. Watching him, I knew he was going to be a useful man to have with me when the crunch came. He turned the key and eased open the door.

  I was ready to shoot, but when I saw the coloured boy standing in the doorway, his eyes rolling, I left the gun under the sheet and brought my hand into sight.

  “I’ve got those knives,” he said.

  “Come on in,” I said and got off the bed.

  A Levison hunting knife is special. It has a six-inch blade of the finest steel and is so sharp that if you draw the blade along your arm, you’re shaved. It is beautifully balanced and with a finger grip handle covered with a sponge jacket. If your hand is soaking with sweat you can be sure the knife won’t turn or slip. I never went into the jungle during my Army days without a Levison knife. It had saved my life a number of times. When the pressure is on, it’s a man’s best friend.

  I checked both knives, then gave the boy a five dollar bill after he had given me the change out of the hundred dollar bill.

  “I want two steak sandwiches and beer up in an hour,” I said to him. “Steak… not hash.”

  When he had gone, I tossed one of the knives in its leather sheath on to Raimundo’s bed.

  “Do you know how to use a knife?”

  He gave a crooked smile.

  “A lot better than you, soldier. I was born with a knife in my hand.”

  I asked him the question that had been nagging at my mind ever since I knew Lucy was dead.

  “What will they do with the bodies?”

  “She’ll go into the swamp. He will be flown back to Caracas. The old man will stage a funeral. He likes funerals.”

  “Then it’s just too bad he can’t stage his own funeral,” I said.

  We spent the day in the bedroom. We listened to the radio. The midday news said there was no further development about the two people Bill Hartley claimed he had seen shot to death. The police were checking on missing people, but so far they hadn’t come up with anyone matching the descriptions of the people Hartley had said had died. The radio announcer, by the tone of his voice, seemed to be hinting that Hartley was yet another nut.

  Around 22.00 we checked out of the hotel. The old negro clerk seemed relieved to see us go. He was a wise old man and he probably guessed we were cooking up something bad. I was sure the golf bag with its leather hood hadn’t fooled him, but I didn’t worry about him. A hotel of this rating wouldn’t survive if it had trouble with the police.

  Raimundo put the golf bag and the suitcase in the Volkswagen and he got under the wheel.

  We had gone over the plan of operation. Raimundo still didn’t think we could get away with it, but he was a little more confident.

  He drove to the main shopping centre and parked near an all- night self-service store. We were far enough away from the Imperial Hotel not to worry about Savanto’s button men. While he waited in the car, I went into the store. I bought a pair of heavy leather gloves. I would need them for my long climb up the steel structure of the crane. I bought a dozen sandwiches and a family-sized bottle of Coke. I bought a small rucksack in which to carry the stuff.

  I joined Raimundo and we headed towards the Imperial Hotel. This was the danger zone. The button men would know I had a Volkswagen. Although there were a number of these cars driving around Paradise City, I was sure every red Volkswagen would now be scrutinized. So when we got to the beginning of Paradise Boulevard, the mile and a half long promenade by the sea where the best hotels were, I told Raimundo to park the car.

  He found a hole in a row of cars and parked. We looked at each other.

  “Give me ten minutes start,” I said, “then come after me.”

  There were a lot of people wandering up and down the boulevard. In that crowd we had a good chance to get lost, but Raimundo had the tricky job. He was carrying the golf bag. You don’t walk along a boulevard at 22.00 carrying a bag of golf clubs. He could attract the attention of an inquisitive cop. We had discussed this. Raimundo said it would be all right. If he saw a cop he would go up to him and ask him for a cheap hotel. He would have the suitcase with him. If questioned, he would say he had hitched into town and was on vacation. That would explain the golf bag.

  “Don’t forget the rucksack,” I said as I got out of the car. “I could be up there some time. I don’t reckon to starve.”

  “You look after your end of it, soldier. I’ll look after mine.”

  I paused, looking at him.

  “It’s going to work out,” I said.

  He shrugged.

  “I’m beginning to think it might.”

  I set off, moving through the crowds. I moved steadily, not fast, because everyone on the promenade, under the coloured lights, was strolling and enjoying themselves. I kept a look out for anyone who might be a button man.

  It took me ten minutes, weaving through the crowds, to get within sight of the Imperial Hotel. I paused, finding a space between a boy and a girl and a girl on her own who were leaning on the rails, watching the guys and dolls in the sea.

  I saw lights were on in Savanto’s suite. I was too far away to be able to see if he was on the balcony.

  The lone girl said softly, “Do you want some fun?”

  I didn’t even look at her. I moved on.

  It took me another ten minutes to reach the back of the building lot. I was now away from the crowds. If I met anyone it was almost sure to be one of Savanto’s men. I had the Levison knife in my hand as I slid into the darkness enveloping the building lot.

  I paused for some moments, listening and looking, but there was no one around. I dropped into the long grass and the high weeds. My Army training had taught me to slide over this kind of ground like a snake. After a while I got within sight of the steel feet of the crane. I lay still, listening and watching. It took me several minutes to convince myself there was no one guarding the crane. I looked up at its great height and at the overhanging arm faintly outlined against the night sky. Savanto’s men were not doing their job, but the crane must have seemed to them to be no risk. Even to me, looking up at that height, the thought of climbing that structure made me flinch. They had probably surveyed the crane and had decided no one could climb it so why waste a man, sitting in the weeds, when he could be doing something more useful?

  I got to my feet and walked back to the dirt road leading to the building lot. I, sat down in the shadows and waited for Raimundo. I wanted to smoke, but that would be too dangerous. So I sat and waited.

  I saw him before he saw me and I c
alled softly to him. He came out of the darkness, the golf bag on his shoulder, the rucksack on his back.

  “There’s no one here,” I said.

  He stood beside me and looked up at the arm of the crane.

  “What did you expect? No one’s going up there, soldier, and that includes you.”

  “Give me the rucksack,” I said,

  “You’re really going to try?”

  “Give me the rucksack.”

  I took it from him, then found the leather gloves, which I put on. I slid my arms through the straps of the rucksack and got it on my back.

  Then a thought dropped into my mind. I had checked and loaded the rifle. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. I unzipped the hood of the golf bag and lifted the rifle out. It took me only a few seconds to assure myself the rifle was still loaded and ready to fire.

  “I’m not blaming you, soldier,” Raimundo said as I put the rifle back.

  “I’m killing this old animal,” I said. “I’m not making any more mistakes. Go back to your wife and kids. You have a future. Enjoy it.”

  We looked at each other in the faint moonlight for a long moment.

  “So long, soldier,” he said. “I hope you make the climb.”

  Then he melted away into the darkness and I was on my own.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I checked my watch before I began to climb. The time was 22.40. I looked across at the distant Imperial Hotel. It was ablaze with lights. Savanto’s suite, on the top floor, also showed lights. It was a hot night. The chances were he would be on the balcony, but if he was in his bedroom or his sitting-room, I was sure I could still nail him with the telescopic sight to help me. But luck had to fall my way. He might not be in the suite, but if he wasn’t, why the lights?

  I hauled myself up into the steel structure of the crane. I found it was an easy climb. It was now a matter of endurance. I told myself I had to pace myself like a runner in a marathon. The golf bag didn’t help. Every so often it got caught between the cross bars and pulled me up short. I had to pause while I disentangled it. When I was level with the fifth floor of the building, I stopped to look down into the darkness.

  Storm clouds were rolling across the sky. Sometime during the night it would rain. I knew the signs and welcomed them. With the clouds moving before the gentle wind, the moon was being continually obscured. I was sure anyone looking up the crane wouldn’t see me.

  I wedged myself between the cross bars to rest. If I rushed this climb and reached the roof exhausted and ran into one of Savanto’s killers, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  I sat there, relaxing, looking across at the Imperial Hotel. There were a number of people on the five balconies on Savanto’s floor. From this level and from this distance I became uncertain which was his suite. Each balcony had a frosted glass partition, giving privacy. I counted from the far end and decided the third balcony suite must be Savanto’s. Lights showed there, but there was no one on the balcony.

  After resting for five minutes or so, I began to climb again. When I reached the tenth floor, I rested. Far below, I could see headlights as cars crawled along the traffic-congested boulevard. Away to my right I had an uninterrupted view of the beach and the sea. There were a lot of people swimming. Most of the beach was floodlit. Night bathing is one of the main attractions of Paradise City.

  I went up to the fifteenth floor. I was glad I was wearing gloves. Even with gloves, my hands were getting sore. The con stant gripping on the steel girders as I pulled myself up was turning into hard work. By taking it slowly, although sweating in the heat, I was still breathing easily and that was the important thing. I rested again. I saw the lights go out in two of the top suites of the hotel, but the suite I was now sure belonged to Savanto remained lit.

  The next stage of the climb took me to the overhanging arm of the crane which brought me level with the penthouse and its flat roof. Black clouds now crawled across the face of the moon and blotted out the penthouse just below me.

  When I reached the arm of the crane I rested again. I saw a streak of distant lightning break the darkness of the clouds. There came a faint rumble of thunder. I had lived long enough in this district to know that it wouldn’t be for another hour before the storm broke.

  I looked down into the darkness. Very faintly, I could make out the roof of the penthouse. I wedged the golf bag securely between two girders. My next move was to get rid of the guards if they were up on the roof. I waited for some moments, watching and listening, but I heard nothing and saw no movement on the roof just below me. Leaving the golf bag, I climbed along the arm of the crane until I reached the hanging hook. Here, I remained for some minutes. I looked across at the Imperial Hotel. The suite I was sure belonged to Savanto still showed lights, but the other suites were now in darkness. I couldn’t see anyone on the balcony. Maybe, I thought, my luck was beginning to run out.

  I reached forward and caught hold of the cable from which the big hook was hanging and slid down the cable on to the roof. I took off my gloves and tucked them into my belt, then my hand closed around the sponge-covered handle of my knife. I pulled the knife from its sheath.

  I moved around the roof of the penthouse, surveying the terrace below. Then it slowly dawned on me that there were no guards on the terrace. Every so often the storm clouds uncovered the moon and I could

  see the terrace below me clearly.

  Had I walked into a trap? No one guarding the crane and now, no one on the roof.

  I paused to think, remembering the geography of the apartment block. It had three entrances and four elevators. None of the elevators operated after 18.00 when the agent closed down for the night. I put myself in the place of Savanto’s button men. Why walk up twenty flights of stairs to guard the roof when they could seal off the building by guarding the entrances, elevators and staircases? It was slack security, but it made sense.

  I slid off the roof down on to the terrace, still moving silently, still holding the knife ready for action. It took me only a few minutes to convince myself that I was alone on the terrace.

  I walked to the parapet surrounding the terrace and looked across at the Imperial Hotel. I could see the lights in Savanto’s sitting-room. There was no movement. No one seemed to be in the room or on the balcony.

  There was time, I told myself. Now I was sure I was alone, I could fetch the Weston & Lees.

  I put on my gloves and climbed back on to the penthouse roof. It was a struggle to climb the cable and get back on to the arm of the crane, but I did it. I went along the arm of the crane, collected the golf bag and made the return journey. As I began to move from cross bar to cross bar I began to wonder if it wasn’t all too easy. Was it possible Savanto had already gone back to Caracas? Was this the answer why the crane wasn’t guarded and there was no one on the roof? Could this be the answer?

  It wouldn’t be until I looked through the telescopic sight into the distant room that I could tell. Maybe I would find some wealthy tourist installed in there instead of Savanto.

  I took the golf bag down on to the terrace, slid out the rifle and lay flat, resting the rifle barrel on the parapet. I clipped on the telescopic sight, screwed on the silencer, then putting the rifle butt to my shoulder, I looked through the sight. A quick turn of the focusing screw brought the room into sharp focus. On the far wall of the room I saw the silver trout which I had noticed when I had first visited Savanto and I knew I was looking into the right room. I shifted the sight to take in the dark balcony. I picked up two lounging chairs: neither of them was occupied.

  So I had to wait. Well, I had learned to wait. If luck was still running my way, Savanto would eventually come out on to the balcony. I was certain, from this range, once I had his head lined up in the cross wires of the sight, I could kill him.

  Aware that the storm clouds were building up, feeling the heat of the night, I lay there, sweating, but relaxed. Every so often I looked through the sight, but I didn’t keep my eye glued to it. I wanted my eye
to be relaxed when I took in the slack of the trigger.

  Then suddenly I saw a movement in the sitting-room : a figure crossed before one of the standard lamps. I shifted the butt of the rifle into my shoulder and my eye went to the rubber eyecup of the sight.

  In the sight, I picked up a blonde woman as she came out on to the balcony. I felt a surge of bitter disappointment run through me. So Savanto had gone! My suspicions had been right. Someone else had taken the suite.

  Then I felt a creepy sensation crawl up my spine and my mouth turned dry. I was sweating badly and my body heat was so great that the eye-piece of the sight misted over.

  Frantically I took out my handkerchief and wiped the eyepiece and then my face. I again looked through the sight.

  The woman, standing on the balcony, the light from the sitting-room lighting her hair, looking exactly like Lucy !

  I looked again. My heart skipped a beat and then began to race. It was Lucy ! Lucy whom I had thought dead! Lucy whom I had mourned and buried! It was Lucy !

  Then I saw a movement and I slightly shifted the sight. A tall, lean man was now standing by her side. It was Timoteo. There could be no mistake. Lucy and Timoteo were standing together on the balcony looking towards me!

  “They make a handsome couple, don’t they, Mr. Benson?” Savanto said quietly from out of the darkness.

  I dropped the rifle and rolled over. I could just see his square- shaped figure outlined against the white wall of the penthouse. He was standing some fifteen feet away from me.

  I was too shocked to move or say anything. I just lay there, supported by my elbows, staring up at him.