1975 - Believe This You'll Believe Anything Page 9

  ‘No.’

  ‘Too bad. How are you managing? Quite a lot for you to handle on your own I should imagine.’

  ‘It’s under control,’ I snapped and switched off.

  Popped off to Palm Beach.

  It was hard to believe. We hadn’t seen each other for over a week. Surely she couldn’t have forgotten? Surely she had been counting the days and the hours as I had been. I pushed back my chair and went over to the window. I had to get those visas for Rangoon before 17.00. I looked at the papers covering my desk. I couldn’t afford the time to go myself. Then I thought of Sue who always rose to an emergency. I hesitated. If Massingham heard about it. Sue could get into trouble. There was no harm in asking, I told myself. Olson would be out at lunch. Sue would be on her own.

  I called her.

  ‘Hello, Clay! I was wondering about you. How are you getting on?’

  ‘I am in a jam Sue. I’ve got no staff and I want two visas for Rangoon by 17.00. You’ll save my life if you can help me.’

  ‘Have you the passports?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Jake has to go to Miami for visas. I’ll tell him to come to you first. He’ll be with you in half an hour.’

  ‘You wonderful girl!’

  ‘Clay . . . you better give Jake something. If it got out. . .’

  ‘I’ll take care of him. You’re a real life saver.’

  ‘Bye now,’ and she hung up.

  I returned to my chair and sat down, looking at the litter of papers before me. I decided I would have to do my own typing. I was gathering the schedules together when the door jerked open and Val came in.

  The sight of her set my heart thumping. She looked marvellous and so chic. She carried a large plastic bag which she tossed on her desk. Then she shut the door.

  ‘Darling Clay! Did you wonder where I had got to?’

  I got slowly to my feet.

  ‘Dyer told me.’ My voice was husky.

  ‘I just had to go. They’re selling off. I’ve got the most marvellous dress for practically nothing! I must show it to you.’

  I reached her, put my arms around her, but she pushed me away.

  ‘No, Clay. Not here!’ She was speaking in a whisper. ‘It’s too dangerous. Anyone could walk in.’

  I controlled myself and moved away from her, a feeling of sick disappointment and resentment sweeping over me.

  ‘Never mind the dress, Val,’ I said sharply. ‘Have you seen what Dyer has left us to handle?’

  She frowned.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s a hell of a lot of work here and it is urgent. I’ve been waiting for you.’ I picked up the schedules and dropped them on her desk. ‘These need your immediate attention. Would you let me have four carbon copies? While you’re doing that, I’ll fix the flights.’

  ‘But Clay!’ She was staring at me her beautiful eyes shocked. ‘You sound worried. What’s so important?’ I kept control of my temper.

  ‘Unless you start working, Val, and fast, six V.I.P.s won’t take off and we will have fallen down on our first assignment. Judge for yourself how important it is.’

  ‘Clay . . . you’re shouting at me!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had quite a morning. I’ve even had to get my ex-secretary to help out. Come on, Val. Let’s get stuck into it.’

  ‘But I can’t work in this. I must change. This dress looks marvellous but it is a beast to sit in, and besides, darling, I haven’t had lunch, have you?’

  I moved around her, sat at her desk and pulled the typewriter towards me.

  ‘No. I don’t want anything right now. I’ll start these while you change. Be as quick as you can, won’t you?’ She touched my shoulder lightly.

  ‘I believe you are angry with me.’

  ‘Just be as quick as you can.’ Threading paper into the machine, I began to type.

  She looked at me for a long moment, then picking up the plastic bag, she left the room.

  The buzzer sounded on my desk. Cursing, I crossed over and snapped down the switch.

  ‘Mr. Burden? This is the security guard. A messenger on a motorcycle, Jake Lamb, asking for you.’

  I said to send him up, then returned to my typing.

  Some five minutes later a girl brought Jake in. He stared around the luxurious office, his eyes popping.

  ‘Doing yourself pretty well, aren’t you, Mr. Burden?’ he said.

  ‘Not so bad.’ I gave him the passports. ‘Get these back with the visas as quick as you can, Jake. It’s an emergency.’

  ‘Sure. Miss Harkness told me,’ and he winked at me.

  As I led him to the door where the girl was waiting I pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand.

  When he had gone, I completed one of the schedules and was starting on another when Val came in. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt, and looked wonderful.

  ‘I’ve ordered sandwiches and martinis,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll take over.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll fix the flights.’

  I moved out of her chair.

  ‘Not cross with me any longer, darling?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  She sat down. ‘I’ve often thought of this moment Clay, when we would work together again. Do you like your office?’

  I sat down at my desk, aware we were wasting time.

  As I lifted the receiver, I said, ‘Marvellous. If only Dyer hadn’t left us with such a pile of urgent work. . .’

  There came a tap on the door and a flunkey entered wheeling a trolley on which stood two silver covers, a big cocktail shaker and glasses.

  ‘All right, Ferdy,’ Val said. ‘We’ll help ourselves.’

  When he had gone, she got up and poured drinks while I talked to Pan-Am.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come and eat Clay,’ and she look the covers of neatly cut sandwiches.

  ‘Let’s eat while we work,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t eat and type at the same time. I’ll get everything greasy, and you can’t talk on the phone and eat at the same time. Don’t be difficult Clay. Come and eat.’

  I gave up. So if these damn V.I.P.s didn’t take off, it was just too bad. If Val didn’t realise the amount of work we had to do before I went home then, that was also too bad.

  I joined her at the trolley and took a double martini-gin from her.

  ‘Here’s to us, darling,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘It’s fun. Isn’t it?’

  I drank half the cocktail at a gulp and immediately felt better and hungry. We began eating the caviar and smoked salmon sandwiches.

  ‘God! It’s been endless . . . this waiting,’ she said. ‘I thought Monday would never come, didn’t you?’

  ‘You can say that again.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Val, we must have extra help. We need a leg-man to handle the visas and do the odd jobs. I’ve spoken to Lucas and he says I must speak to Vidal. Can you fix it?’

  ‘Henry won’t like it. The man will have to be paid.’

  ‘You can’t expect to get him for nothing.’ Again I felt a wave of irritation run through me. She was treating this too casually.

  ‘I’ll talk to Lucas. He’s not cooperative.’

  ‘Look, Val, if you can’t fix it, we can’t handle this job. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘We won’t need visas every day surely?’

  ‘There will be other things for him to do. We must have an outside man.’

  ‘You’re not eating, darling.’

  I finished my martini.

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ and I returned to my desk.

  ‘Clay. . .’

  I paused as I reached for the telephone.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t get so worked up. We’ll manage.’

  ‘If you really want me with you, Val,’ I said speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘we’ve not only got to manage, but we’ve got to have a leg-man!’

  I then dialled North-Eastern airlines and asked for Reservat
ions.

  ‘Would you think I was terribly greedy if I had some more sandwiches?’ she said. ‘They’re marvellous, aren’t they?’ She poured herself another martini. ‘Do have some more, darling. You’ve scarcely eaten anything.’

  I was too exasperated to speak. I couldn’t even took at her.

  Then the booking clerk came on the line.

  This was a hell of a beginning, I thought as I held on while he checked the flight. Was it going to work? Had she allowed me to kiss her, to hold her in my arms for a brief moment, maybe I wouldn’t have been in such a frustrated rage, but that and the fact she was so casual and calm about the mountain of work facing us made me wish to God I was back in the quiet Spanish Bay hotel office with Sue efficiently coping.

  Val was still eating a sandwich when I had concluded talking to the clerk. I had Pan-Am, B.O.A.C., and Swiss Air still to call. As I dialled Pan-Am I said, ‘For God’s sake, Val! Do get started! Look at the time! It’s after three!’

  Her eyes widened as she picked up another sandwich.

  ‘What’s making you so nervy Clay? Please don’t shout at me like this. I don’t like it.’

  I eased my collar that was choking me.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. We must get on with this work!’

  The Pan-Am man came on the line and I gave him names and times.

  She finished the sandwich, wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and, carrying her martini, went to her desk. She began to type.

  Even as I was making the reservations, I was aware that she was pecking and hunting. In the past, she had been the fastest typist I had ever had, making her typewriter sound like an exploding machine gun. This hesitant tap-tap-tap gave me a feeling of panicky despair. At her rate of typing the schedules would take a week to finish! Even I could type four times as fast and I was no typist. I completed my order with Pan-Am, then looked up B.O.A.C.’s telephone number, still listening to the painfully slow tap-tap-tap. Then suddenly she said, ‘Oh, hell!’ loudly, stared at what she had typed, ripped out the five sheets of paper, crumpled them and threw them violently into her trash basket.

  ‘Don’t keep staring at me! You’re making me nervous.’ she said furiously. ‘I haven’t touched a typewriter for six years. . .what do you expect?’

  ‘Let’s change places,’ I said, beginning to get desperate.

  ‘You book the flights and I’ll do the typing.’

  ‘I’m damned if I will!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You do your job! I’ll do mine!’

  We were glaring at each other when the door opened silently and a man came in.

  To say he startled me was an understatement. He looked like a cheap gangster straight out of an old Bogart movie. He had on a grey suit with thick black stripes, a white slouch hat, a black shirt and a white tie. If that wasn’t old hat enough, to add to the picture were his long black sideboards, his blue chin and a phony diamond stick pin. He looked like a thug you see in newspaper cartoons.

  But he was no joke. There was a deadly stillness about him that increased my heartbeat. His flat, snake’s eyes, his small lipless mouth told me as nothing else could that this man, standing in the doorway, was as lethal and as dangerous as a black mamba.

  His little eyes moved over me with a contemptuous indifference that was an insult, then he slightly turned his head on his thick bull-like neck and found Val. He moved to her desk and dropped an envelope before her.

  ‘The Boss says to fix it pronto.’

  He had a voice like a fall of gravel.

  Turning on his heels, he moved out of the room the way a snake moves, swiftly and in complete silence. The door closed behind him.

  I looked at Val. Her face was as white as a fresh fall of snow.

  The buzzer of my intercom made me start. I snapped down the switch.

  ‘Burden. . .’

  It was Dyer.

  ‘I’m sending up a brief, old boy. Terribly sorry. I should have handled it last week. Went clean out of my mind. Mr. Wernstein has just arrived at the Spanish Bay hotel. Mr. Vidal promised him some deep-sea fishing. Lay on a boat and a crew for him, will you? It’s all in the brief.’

  I stared helplessly at the intercom. I was still trying to recover from the gangsters visit.

  Val suddenly appeared at my desk.

  ‘Dyer!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘You handle it! Understand? We’re too busy to bother with fishing boats! You forgot it. . .you fix it!’ and leaning past me, she snapped up the switch.

  We looked at each other. Faint colour was back in her cheeks, but her eyes were panicky.

  ‘Who was that?’ I said and nodded to the door.

  ‘Guilio Gesetti. One of my husband’s hatchet men . . . that’s what they’re called, aren’t they?’ Her voice was shaking. ‘The man who threw acid I told you about. The man who would kill us both if my husband gave him the nod.’

  My mouth turned dry. I began to say something, but the words made no sound. I hadn’t really believed her when she had warned me of Vidal’s thugs, but I believed her now. . .seeing was believing. I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

  She returned to her desk, ripped open the envelope Gesetti had left and read the letter.

  She drew in a long, slow breath as she looked at me.

  ‘Henry is going to Libya on the 5th . . . that’s the day after tomorrow. He returns on the 9th. We are to arrange everything for him.’ She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘We will have almost a week without him, darling. Think of it . . . a whole week!’

  Gesetti had thrown such a scare into me I felt no pleasure at the news.

  ‘I’ll fix his flight,’ I said and reached for the telephone.

  * * *

  Jake Lamb, the A.T.S. messenger, was shown into my office a few minutes to 17.00. With a wide grin and a wink, he handed me the Rangoon visas.

  ‘There you are, Mr. Burden.’ I saw his eyes stray to Val and his lips pursed into a soundless whistle. ‘All in order.’

  ‘Many thanks, Jake. You’re a lifesaver.’

  I had completed Vidal’s Libyan schedule and was now waiting impatiently for Val to finish typing it. So far she had only completed one schedule and was now pecking and hunting at the Libyan schedule.

  I had the problem of getting the visas to the Jacksons.

  They were staying at the Palace Hotel which was well out of Jake’s way, but I had to ask him. I had no one else to send.

  He looked dubiously at his watch.

  ‘I’m late as it is. Mr. Olson will raise hell.’

  I put the visas in an envelope with the schedule and took a five dollar bill from my wallet. I looked at him and lifted my eyebrows.

  He grinned.

  ‘Well, okay, Mr. Burden: anything to oblige. I can always say I had a flat.’

  When he had gone, I looked across at Val.

  ‘That’s personally cost me fifteen dollars. Can you now see why we must have a leg-man?’

  ‘Don’t talk! I’m busy,’ she snapped, then, ‘Oh, hell! You’ve made me make a mistake!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I knew I didn’t sound sorry, but I was too worried to care.

  Going to the telex, I began typing a request for accommodation in New York. One of my telephone bells rang ‘Would you get it, please?’ I said without looking around.

  I heard her mutter something, then she answered the telephone.

  She said impatiently, ‘Hello? Yes . . . he’s here. Who is it? Oh!’ A slight pause, then she went on, ‘Will you hold it, please?’

  ‘It’s for you,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Your wife!’

  We stared at each other. This was something I hadn’t foreseen. My hands turned clammy. Had Rhoda recognised Val’s voice?

  I picked up the receiver.

  ‘Rhoda?’

  ‘That’s me. When you buy the bread rolls and the cream, will you also get me two packs of cigarettes? I’m right out.’ I looked at the litter of papers on my desk and then at the desk clock. The time was 17.35.
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br />   ‘I’m sorry, honey, no can do. I’ll be working late. You get them. I’ll be lucky if I get back before half past nine.’

  ‘Half past nine?’ Her voice shot up. ‘For God’s sake! What kind of job is this?’

  ‘It happens to be a busy day.’ I tried to keep my voice under control. ‘First day . . . you know. Look, honey, I’ll have to hang up. My desk is loaded.’

  ‘If you think I’m going to wait until nine-thirty before I eat, you’re mistaken!’ Her voice turned shrill.

  ‘All right . . . all right! Eat when you like! Don’t wait for me,’ and I hung up.

  Val said, her voice unsteady, ‘Did she recognise my voice?’

  ‘I don’t know and right now I don’t give a damn! Let’s get on!’

  Soon after 18.00, Val finished the Libyan schedule.

  ‘That’s number two, thank God! Now I must fly or I’ll be late.’

  I stared at her as she hurriedly removed the carbons.

  ‘You going?’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘But there are three more schedules to do, Val.’

  ‘They must wait,’ she said impatiently. ‘I have a dinner date with the Wernsteins, damn them! Henry arranged it. I can’t get out of it.’

  ‘Okay.’ I was too depressed to argue. ‘If you have to go, you have to go.’

  ‘Don’t be cross, darling. It’ll be better tomorrow.’

  ‘I hope to God you’re right!’

  She came over swiftly, kissed my cheek lightly and was gone.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. I should have anticipated this, I told myself. How the hell could we possibly have sex in Vidal’s own home? It would have been a lot better, easier and safer if I had stayed with the A.T.S.

  I was so frustrated that I banged my clenched fists on my desk. After a few minutes I cooled down and wearily looked at the Vidal schedule that Val had typed. It was crowded with typing errors. I suddenly didn’t care anymore. If Vidal didn’t like his wife’s typing, he could tell her so. I put the schedule together with the flight ticket and the hotel voucher in an envelope and addressed it to the Intercontinental hotel, San Salvador.

  Laboriously, I began to type the remaining schedules. It wasn’t until 22.00 that I finally cleared my desk.

  By the time I had driven out to Miami airport, given the Vidal schedule to an air hostess, who I knew, to deliver to Vidal when she arrived at the Intercontinental hotel in the afternoon, and then driven back to my apartment the time was 23.18.