Complete works of peter.., p.138
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 138
I throw the gun into the thicket. Then I get hold of him an' stick him up on the car step. After a few minutes he starts gettin' the colour back into his face.
I say: "Listen, handsome. I know all about it. You was sent down here to wait for me to come in, an' then you was gonna go over the car. Maybe you was goin' to let the tyres down or take out the rotor cap so's I wouldn't be able to get away too quick afterwards. But don't you try an' kid me that I ain't safe down here. I reckon if any of you cheap mobsters was to try an' iron me out Panzetti would be so annoyed that he'd throw you to the lions."
He don't say anythin'. I yank him up onto his feet.
"Look, bughouse," I tell him, "you start walkin' down the road an' you keep on walkin'. When you get to Newbury maybe they got a train you can get to London. When you get there you go around an' see Montana Kell if she's still in that dump of her an' tell her that I am not such a mug as she thinks I am. Another thing," I go on, "if I was you, Two-Time, I would take a whole lot of trouble to keep outa my way in the future because if I get my hooks on you again I am goin' to do somethin' to you that would make Chinese torture look like the Neighbourhood Friendly Hour on a national hook-up. So get goin', you big gorilla, an' don't stop."
I give him a good push in the pan just to show there is no ill-feelin'. He don't say anything. He just goes outa the gate an' starts walkin' down the road holdin' his guts.
I start walkin' down the pathway again. Presently, after I have walked for a good ten minutes, the path narrows. On each side of me are big rhododendron bushes an' trees an' ferns an' what have you got. I reckon there is so much shrubbery around here that if you got lost you could stick around permanently an' live on wild rabbits.
I walk on. After a bit I come to a little clearin'. On the left side of the path is the edge of a lake. It is a big lake an' the mist is hangin' over the top of the water. The sound of the rain drizzlin' down, the plop of the water against the bank where the wind is pushin' it an' the general atmosphere are all about as cheerful as somebody's last night on earth.
I keep on walkin'. I walk around the path that leads round the edge of the lake, whistlin' quietly to myself an' wonderin' just what the next act in the set-up is goin' to be.
After a bit the path widens. Just in front of me there is a big clearin' an' on the other side is a lodge. It is an old-time place an' the white pillars by the doorway show up plenty. I give a big sigh. It looks as if I have arrived.
I go up the two-three steps that lead up to the portico an' pull down the bell-handle. There is a pause an' then somewhere, about fourteen miles away, I can hear the bell ringin'. It is one of them cracked bells that you can hear any time you have a nightmare. I stick around, but nothin' happens. Nobody comes.
I throw my cigarette stub away an' light a fresh one. Then I try the knobs on the double doors. They open. I go inside, switch on my torch, close the doors behind me an' take a look around.
I am in an old-fashioned hallway. The furniture is good even if it is dusty. On the wall on my right is a big oil-paintin' an' underneath is written: 'George Soames Ellinghurst, First Lord Calvoran.' I take a look at the picture an' come to the conclusion that George was a swell guy even if he does look as if he was born with a stiff neck.
I walk across the hall. On the left, on the other side of the hall, is a wide sorta circular stairway with big oak balustrades.
I start walkin' up an' believe it or not every time I put my foot down I can hear an echo. I get to thinkin' that this must be the haunted house that you see on the movies.
I get to the first landin'. I stand there listenin'. The place is as quiet as the local graveyard, except now an' again there is an odd creakin'.
I let go a bawl that you coulda heard in Russia.
"Whitaker... " I yell. "Are you around here?"
From somewhere above me comes a sorta moanin' noise. It is a low desperate sorta groan. The sorta noise Aunt Priscilla makes when somebody tells her that her marriage lines are phoney an' that she has been livin' in sin for the last forty-seven years.
I go up to the next landin'. The light of the torch shows me a long corridor runnin' from side to side of the Lodge. All along it are hangin' pictures of more members of the Calvoran family' There are so many of these guys that I reckon that George, the guy whose mug is hangin' in the hallway, musta been very fond of his wife. I take a look at 'em as I walk along an' believe me they all look like the guy downstairs, so there is no truth in the rumours that these English Countesses in the old days usta get around with odd guy either that or else the artist who done the pictures was a tactful sorta cuss.
I let go another yell, an' after a minute there comes an answerin' groan. Only it is a bit louder this time. It seems to me to come from the end of the corridor. I ease along there. There is a door on my right an' I open it an' flash the torch in.
In the middle of the room, which is as old-time as the rest of this dump, is a big antique six-legged table. There is a guy stretched out on this table. He is spread-eagled. His arms are tied to the top legs an' his legs to the bottom ones. I switch my torch on his face. Somebody has stuck a gag in his mouth, but he has managed to get half of it out. His face is thin an' white an' his eyes are as tired as hell. This guy does not look at all happy.
I take a look around the room. On a little table by the shuttered window are some bottles of Scotch, a syphon an' some clean glasses. There is not anybody else around so far as I can see.
I go over to the door, shut it and turn the key in the lock. I find the light switch an' turn on the light. Then I go over to the table an' get out my penknife. I start cuttin' the guy loose.
I say: "Well, Mister Whitaker, I been lookin' for you. I'm glad to find you all in one piece."
He tries to move but he can't. I told you that this guy has got a far-away sorta dreamy look in his eyes. Also he looks as if he ain't quite certain which way he is pointin'.
I yank him off the table an' walk him around for a bit. Then I stick him in a big brocade chair an' go over to the little table. I pull the cork outa one of the bottles an' try it on my tongue. It is Scotch all right.
I pour out a coupla stiff shots an' give him one. He drinks it off like he needs it. So I give him another. I also have one myself just to be friendly.
"Well, Whitaker," I tell him. "So here we are. All nice an' friendly. Now let's do some talkin'."
He sits there gaspin'. He looks as if he has got the pants scared off him. He says:
"Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps." He puts his hands in front of his face. "My God," he groans. "They've given me a hell of a time."
"You don't say?" I tell him. "I suppose you wouldn't have any ideas about what they've done with your girl friend the one you walked out on, I mean Geralda the good-lookin' baby."
"How do I know?" he says. "I don't know anything. I think I'm lucky to be alive. And Geralda ought to have minded her own business. She ought to have stayed out of this thing. Panzetti's a devil. God knows what they'll do to her."
I give myself a cigarette.
"Well... " I say. "Believe it or not I have got an idea at the back of my head that I'm gonna find this dame some time somewhere. Maybe I'll take a look when I ain't too busy."
He says: "Why don't you look now... ? You're Caution the Special Agent aren't you?"
"That's right, pal," I tell him. "An' you knew I would be comin' along? They told you to expect me, hey?"
"One of Panzetti's gorillas said you'd be along," he says. "He told me that if you came alone it would be all right, but that if you brought anybody with you they'd cut my throat before you could do anything about it. I've been worrying myself sick. I thought you might try something tough."
"Well, I didn't," I say. "I just come along all on my own nice an' quiet."
He don't say anything for a minute. Then he goes over to the table an' pours himself another drink. He gulps the drink down like it was the last one he was ever goin' to have. Then he says:
"If you think Geralda's somewhere about why don't you look for her? Why don't you... "
"Pipe down," I tell him. "Or else you'll get yourself heart disease. I told you I wasn't worryin' about her. We'll get around to Geralda in a minute. First of all I want to talk to you. You sorta interest me."
He looks at me as if I was nuts.
"I don't understand you," he says. "Why the hell don't you get a move on and do something? You don't even seem to be worrying yourself about Geralda or anything. Do you realise what is at stake... ?"
"You mean the dive-bomber?" I say. "Yeah, I realise about that, but I am a guy who never gives up hope. An' right now you can compose yourself an' take it easy an' tell me what I want to know."
I wander over to the whisky an' give myself a stiff one. After I have drunk it I say to him:
"Me... I am a guy with a great sense of humour. I reckon you gotta hand it to this Panzetti mug. That boy's got brains all right. He's been makin' rings around us ever since he started in on this racket. First of all he gets a bundle of jack off the German guys to get next to you an' get the blue-prints off you, an' when he's done this he then starts considerin' a little idea to double-cross the Jerries an' start doin' some more business with the U.S. an' English Governments. The boy's clever. The only thing is he might try an' be a little bit too clever an' that is where we'll get him where it hurts most."
He shrugs his shoulders.
"You'll have to be damned clever to get the better of Panzetti," he says. "The best thing for all of us is to play it his way. We've got to get those blue-prints back no matter what it costs."
"You don't say," I tell him. "An' supposin' the big boy decides to double-cross us. Supposin' he's had a photostatic copy made of 'em an' after we've done business with him he sells that to the Germans. What about that angle?"
"It's not possible," he says. "I'm not such a fool as you think. The blue-prints aren't quite finished. I've left out the most important angle on the whole thing. Panzetti knows this. He knows I know it and that you'll know it. That's our guarantee."
"Swell," I tell him. "The idea of gettin' guarantees from Panzetti makes me swoon with joy. I know what I would like to do to that yellow-nosed bastard."
"Possibly," he says. "You know what you think you'd like to do to him. But the fact remains that at the moment he's master of the situation. He's got the blue-prints and he's got Geralda."
"That's worryin' you a helluva lot, isn't it?" I ask him. "Why should you worry about Geralda? A guy like you who would walk out on a swell package like Geralda for a cheap mobster's pet like Carlette Francini ought to have his brains attended to."
He don't say anything. He just gives a big sigh.
I light another cigarette.
"O.K., Whitaker," I say. "Well, let's get down to cases. I reckon that when Mister Panzetti's boyos spreadeagled you across that table they gave you some messages for me... didn't they? They knew I'd be comin' down here. They knew Montana Kells would do her stuff an' pull that phoney act on me to get me down here. Well... where do we go from there?"
He says: "This is what they told me to tell you. Panzetti's got the Germans' money. He doesn't give a damn about them. He reckons they can't do anything to him over here. All right... well, he's prepared to do a deal with the Government here. He wants two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. When he's got the money and a guarantee that he's going to be left alone afterwards he'll hand over the blue-prints. If he doesn't get the money within two or three days he's going to make it his business to see that Hitler gets the blue-prints and we'll never see Geralda again.
"They told me what they'd do to Geralda.... They said... " He puts his hands over his face again like he can't bear to think of it.
"Keep your mind on the ball, fella," I tell him. "This is not the time to worry about the Varney dame."
"My God!" he says. "Haven't you got any heart at all? Do you know what Panzetti's like? Can't you use your imagination and think of that poor girl in the hands of that sadistic swine. Can't you... ?"
"You're breakin' my heart," I tell him. "But right now we'll keep down to cases. Never mind about Geralda. We'll leave her strugglin' in the hands of Panzetti just for a minute an' concentrate on Carlo Panzetti. When did you see that guy last?"
"I've never seen him," he says. "He keeps in the background. I don't know the names of the people I've seen. But you can take it from me he's here. He's in some place in England some safe place and he'll stop at nothing. He's absolutely reckless and he's as clever as the devil."
I shrug my shoulders.
"It certainly looks as if that guy has got somethin' on us," I tell him. "An' I have also got an idea in my head that if we want those blue-prints we shall have to buy 'em like he says. Did these guys tell you where an' how the money was to be paid?"
He nods his head.
"The money was to be paid to me," he says. "When I've got it I've got to ring a telephone number. Then they'll tell me where I am to go to hand over the money. When I get there they'll give me the blue-prints and they'll free Geralda. They'll let her go free with me."
"Nice goin'," I say. "An' how do we know they won't knock you off again an' keep her. What guarantee have we got about that?"
He spreads his hands.
"There's no guarantee," he says. "We've just got to trust Panzetti. But I don't see how he can cross us. After all it would be pretty difficult for him to get out of England, wouldn't it? Supposing he did want to try a cross."
"He got over here, didn't he?" I say. "If he can get in he can get out. Still it looks as if we gotta play it his way."
I throw my cigarette stub away. Right then, somewhere in the house a telephone starts ringin'. I stand up an' listen. The bell is soundin' somewhere from downstairs.
"Stick around, pal," I tell him. "I'm goin' to take that call. Maybe this is Santa Claus ringin' up just to ask how the old folks are."
I ease outa the room an' along the corridor. I run down the stairs. The telephone is ringin' in one of the rooms off the front hallway. I push the door open an' go in. By the light of my flash I can see the telephone on a table in the corner. It is ringin' its head off. All around it the furniture is as dusty as hell, but the telephone is nice an' clean, so it looks like somebody musta known I was goin' to use it an' that I like clean telephones.
I grab it. I say:
"Hello... this is Mr. Lemuel H. Caution of the F.B.I. speakin', an' what can I do for you?"
There is a pause an' then a voice comes over the wire. I'm tellin' you guys that this voice is not a nice voice. It is soft an' as cold as a snowball. It sounds such a goddam cruel voice that it makes my spine feel like somebody was ticklin' it with an icicle.
"My name is Panzetti," says the voice. "Carlo Panzetti. I have a little friend here who would like to speak to you, Mr. Caution. Perhaps you would not mind holding the line... thank you."
There is another pause. Then I hear a rough voice say:
"Get over to the phone you... an' talk."
I wait a minute an' then she comes on the line. Me... I would know that voice anywhere. Even in this goddam cold and lonely house the sound of that dame speakin' makes me go all goofy.
It is Geralda all right.
I say: "Well, Geralda, how's it comin'? An' I hope those guys are treatin' you right."
She says: "Mr. Caution. I can't say much to you. But I have been told to tell you that unless you agree to the terms which have, by now, been discussed with you, and unless you make the necessary arrangements for the money to be handed over at the time and place of which you will be informed; first of all the blue-prints will be delivered to the Germans, and secondly I shall be killed. I am to tell you that I shall die very slowly, and that in order that you shall know that I am dead and how I died my body will be sent to your Jermyn Street address within one week from today unless you do what you have been told to do."
She stops speakin'. There is a click an' the phone goes dead.
I give a big sigh. I hang up the receiver an' stand there for a minute thinkin'. I feel plenty sorry for that dame Geralda.
Then I give myself a fresh cigarette an' I go upstairs. Whitaker is standin' where I left him.
"That was Panzetti that was," I tell him. "Also I had a word or two with Geralda. She told me that what you had said was O.K., that if Panzetti don't get the dough he is handin' over the stuff to the Jerries an' is goin' to give her the works. He is also goin' to push that poor kid around a bit before he bumps her."
He says: "Well... we've got to act and we've got to act quickly. Otherwise... "
"Just a minute, pal," I tell him. "Just take your coat off an' show me your arms, willya?"
He looks at me like I was nuts, but he starts takin' his coat off. I push up his shirt sleeves an' look at his arms.
"O.K.," I tell him. "Put your coat on an' listen to me. Just sit down an' take it easy because I want you to sorta concentrate on the words of wisdom that I am now gonna tell you."
He looks good an' surprised. But he sits down.
"First of all," I tell him. "That hot momma Montana Kells told me that Panzetti had been slippin' you a lot of dope so's even if we got our hooks on you you couldn't finish off them blue-prints. Secondly she told me first of all that the blue-prints wasn't completed, an' afterwards when she'd had a few more Scotches she said they was finished."
I look at him. He don't say anything.
"You told me just now that the blue-prints wasn't finished. That they wouldn't be any good until you'd put the final touch on 'em. But just now, Geralda, doin' her stuff like Panzetti tells her, says that unless we ante up with the cash he is goin' to hand the blue-prints over to the Germans. Well, if they ain't finished an' if the bit you haven't done to 'em is the whole works, then what goddam good are they to the Jerrie even if they do get 'em?
"Secondly, I cannot see any injection marks on your arms. If Panzetti had been druggin' you I reckon he'd had given you the stuff in your arms. Maybe he didn't do it that way. Maybe your backside is covered with punctures, but I am not goin' to ask you to take your pants off."
