He came in quietly and cautiously, and there was a faded, fixed smile on his white face. In his right hand he carried a long-bladed knife that could be and probably was a carving knife.
The enlarged pupils of his eyes gave him a blind look, but he could see me all right, and he was looking and moving towards me.
The sight of those sightless eyes, the fixed smile and the carving knife brought me out in a cold sweat
'Drop that knife, Barratt!' I rapped out, and began to back away in search of a weapon.
He came on, slowly, rather like a sleep-walker, and I knew I should have to stop him before he cornered me. I made a sudden dive for the bed, grabbed up a pillow and flung it at him. It hit him in the face, sending him staggering, and I jumped for a chair, snatched it up as he came charging at me.
He ran slap on to the legs of the chair as I poked it at him. The collision sent both of us staggering, and as I recovered my balance and lifted the chair to hit him over the head, the girl jumped on my back, twining her arms round my throat, choking me.
I was getting rattled now and slammed against the wall with her as Barratt stabbed at me. I saw the flash of the knife and let out a yell, throwing myself sideways,
I and the girl sprawled on the floor. She was still clinging to me and her grip round my throat was making the blood hammer in my head.
I tore her hands away as Barratt bent over me. I thought I was a goner. I kicked out wildly, missed him, saw the blade flash up. I tried to roll clear, but knew it couldn't be done. The girl under me was holding me. I couldn't get my arms free; I couldn't turn. The blade was aimed for my belly when there was a rush of feet; Barratt half turned, the knife thudded down into the floor an inch from my body; a short, square-shouldered man who had appeared from nowhere hit Barratt savagely on the head with what looked like a sandbag.
Barratt arched his back, shot away from me and dropped down on hands and knees. He tried to rise, flattened out, dragged himself to a half-sitting position as the square-shouldered man sprang at him and hit him again.
All this took about five seconds. The girl was still trying to strangle me and now she started to scream. I rolled over on my face, bringing her uppermost. I felt her being wrenched away and I staggered to my feet, as, screaming wildly, she flew at the square-shouldered man, her fingers clawing at his face.
He stood his ground, swept her hands away and hit her very hard on the temple with the sandbag. She dropped at his feet as if she had been pole-axed
He bent over her, lifted an eyelid, straightened and grinned at me.
'Hello. You seem to be having quite a time. I heard you yell. Was he going to knife you or were you two playing a game?'
I wiped my face and the back of my neck with my handkerchief before saying, 'He seemed a little worked up. I don't think he knew what he was doing. He's hopped to the eyes.' I looked a little anxiously at the naked heap of arms and legs on the floor. 'You hit her pretty hard. I hope you haven't damaged her. She belongs to a client of mine.' He waved an airy hand.
Don't worry about her. You have to treat these junkies rough. Besides, I've had a bellyful of them these past three days. They've been fighting and screaming at each other non-stop, and I like my sleep.'
I continued to wipe my face and neck. I was sweating quite a lot. The long carving knife on the carpet gave me the horrors.
'You live here?' I asked.
For my sins. Just across the way. Nick Perelli's the name, in case it interests you.' I told him who I was.
I'm grateful to you. If you hadn't hit that goon he would have stuck that knife into me.'
Perelli smiled. His swarthy, thin face had a jeering, humorous expression. He wasn't a badlooking guy: a little like George Raft, come to think of it. His clothes were good, and he wore them well.
'So you're the fella who runs Universal Services, are you? That's a nice racket. Wish it belonged to me.'
'It has its low moments. This is one of them. I'd like to put it on record if there's anything I can do for you now or in the future, let me know. It'll be on the house, and you'll get our Grade A service.'
'I'll remember,' he said, and grinned. 'Right now I'm pretty well fixed, but you never know.' He stuck his toe into the girl's side and gave her a little nudge. 'Is this one of the services?'
'One of the less pleasant ones. I came here to take her back to her father.'
Think he'll be pleased to have her back? I wouldn't be if she belonged to me. I wouldn't want her back if she was going away with a yacht.'
I fetched the blanket and dropped it over her.
'Her old man's only one degree better than she is. What's the bouncer downstairs going tosay when he sees me carrying her through the lobby?'
'Maxie?' Perelli laughed. 'He'll hang out the flags. He's been longing to get rid of her, only Barratt scares him. I'm on my way to meet my girl. We can go down together. I'll see he doesn't bother you.'
'Fine,' I said. 'I'd hate to be run in for kidnapping after what I've just been through.'
'The bathroom's through there if you want to tidy up,' he said, pointing. 'You look a bit of a wreck. I'll watch her until you get back.'
I went into the bathroom and repaired the damage as best I could. Even after a wash and I had pinned up the torn lapel I still looked as if I'd been wrestling with a wild cat.
I came out, gathered up the unconscious girl in the blanket and heaved her over my shoulder.
'Nice if she comes round in the car.'
'She won't,' Perelli said with confidence. 'When I sap them, they stay sapped.'
We got her into the elevator without anyone seeing us.
'Do you usually carry a sandbag when you go to meet your girl friend?' I asked as the elevator sank between floors, He grinned.
'Never without one. I play cards for a living, and a cosh is the best way to settle postmortems. I get quite a few.'
'Well, you certainly know how to use one.'
There's nothing to it. The secret is to hit them hard. A tap only makes them mad.'
The elevator came to a silent stop and we marched out into the lobby.
The girl behind the desk started out of her chair and gaped at us. Her hand fluttered along the desk and one finger poked into the bell-push. The bouncer in the bowler hat materialized from behind his pillar like a jack-in-the-box. He look one look at me and the girl draped over my shoulder, made a growling noise deep down in his throat and started purposely towards me.
'All right, Maxie; relax,' Perelli said. 'We're only clearing out a little garbage. There's no need to get excited.'
Maxie stopped in mid-stride. He stooped to peer at the girl, and as soon as he recognized her he lost his belligerent look.
'Oh,
her
! Where are you taking her?'
'What do you care so long as we take her?' Perelli inquired.
Maxie chewed this over in his mind.
'I guess that's right. Hasn't Barratt got anything to say about her going?'
'He's asleep at the moment,' I said. 'We thought it would be a shame to wake him up.'
Maxie eyed the scratches on my face and whistled softly.
'Yeah. I guess I haven't seen you two guys.' He looked across at the girl behind the desk. 'Did you hear, Grade? We ain't seen nobody.'
The girl nodded and went back to her funnies. Maxie waved us to the door.
'Careful there're no cops around.'
We went down the steps into the sunshine. There were no cops around.
I laid the unconscious girl along the back seat of the Buick and closed the door.
'Well, thanks again. It wouldn't be an over-statement to say you saved my life.' I gave Perelli my card. 'Don't forget; anywhere, any time, I'll be glad to even the score.'
An easy thing to say, but the way it worked out I was scrabbling around like a monkey with a can tied to its tail, three weeks later, trying to make good my promise.
III
Jack Kerman, long, lean and dapper, lay full length on my divan; an immaculate figure in a bottle-green flannel suit, cream silk shirt and brown buckskin shoes. On his chest he balanced a highball, while he beat time a little drunkenly to the swing music coming from the radio.
Opposite him I relaxed in one of those down-to-the-ground easy chairs, and looked through the open windows at the moonlit Pacific, while I tried to make up my mind whether to go in for a swim or mix myself another drink.
Wingrove's daughter was an almost forgotten memory; Perelli just another name. Ten days had gone past since I had returned the unconscious little junkie to the bosom of her family, and so far as I was concerned the case was closed.
'It's about time I had a vacation,' Kerman said suddenly. This continual grind is giving me ulcers. What we should do is to shut up the office for a couple of months and go to Bermuda or Honolulu. I'm bored with the local talent in this burg. I want a little more fire; grass skirts instead of lounging pyjamas: something with a little zing in it. How about it, Vic? Let's do it. We can afford it, can't we?'
'Maybe you can, but I'm damn sure I can't. Besides, what would we do with Paula?'
Kerman took a long drink from his glass, sighed, and reached for a cigarette.
'She's your funeral. That girl is a menace. All she thinks about is money and work. You might tell her not to keep picking on me. To hear her talk, you'd think I don't earn my keep.'
'Do you?' I said, shutting my eyes. 'Do any of us? Anyway, a vacation is out, Jack. We're getting on top and we've got to stay on top. If we shut the office, we'd be forgotten in a week. You can't stand still in a job like this.'
Kerman grunted,
'Maybe you're right. I've a redhead who's costing me a pile of dough. I don't know what's the matter with her. She thinks I'm made of money. Mind you, she's not a bad little thing. She's willing, and that's what I like about a girl. The trouble with her is...'
The telephone bell began to ring.
Kerman raised his head and scowled at the telephone.
'Don't answer it,' he advised. 'It might be a client,'
'Not at ten past ten,' I said, hoisting myself out of the chair. It's probably my past catching me up.'
'Then you'd better let me handle her. I have a very nifty line with women on the telephone.'
I shied a cushion at him as I picked up the receiver.
'Hello?'
A male voice asked, 'Is that Mr. Malloy?' A voice that would send an immediate prickle up most women's spines. A voice that conjured up a picture of a tall, powerfully built man, probably sun-tanned and handsome, who would rather drop in for an afternoon cup of tea when her husband's at the office than look in the evening when he's at home.
Perhaps I was doing him an injustice, but that was the mental picture I got of him from the vibrating baritone voice.
'Speaking,' I said. 'Who is that?'
'My name is Lee Dedrick. I have been trying to get you at your office. There doesn't appear to be anyone there.'
'I'm sorry. The office closes at six.'
'And sweat-shop hours at that,' Kerman muttered, punching the pillow at the back of his head, 'Tell him we're in bed with the croup.'
The voice said sharply, 'But surely you have a night service?' 'You're talking to the night service now, Mr. Dedrick.'
'Oh. I see.' There was a pause, then he said, 'I would like you to come out to my place right away. It's rather urgent.'
In spite of the domineering tone, I had a sudden impression that he was frightened. There was a peculiar shake in his voice, and he seemed very breathless.
'Can you give me some idea what you want, Mr. Dedrick?' I asked, ignoring Kerman's frantic signals to hang up.
There was a moment's silence. I waited and listened to the uneven, hurried breathing.
'A few minutes ago some man rang me up and warned me an attempt would be made tonight to kidnap me. Probably a practical joker, but I thought it wise to take precautions. I happen to be alone here, except for my chauffeur; he is a Filipino, and would be quite useless in an emergency.'
This sounded screwy to me.
'Have you any idea why anyone should want to kidnap you?'
Again there was that pause. Again I listened to the hurried breathing. It was an eerie sound, and conveyed his fear to me as plainly as if I could seethe fear on his face.
'I happen to be Serena Marshland's husband,' he said curtly. 'I'd be glad if you wouldn't waste time asking pointless questions. There'll be time enough to satisfy your curiosity when we meet.'
I didn't like his tone, but I knew he was scared. I didn't want to go out on this job. I had been working all day, and would much rather have spent the rest of the evening swopping drinks with Kerman, But that wasn't the way to build up a successful business. Besides, Serena Marshland was the fourth richest woman in the world.
'Where are you, Mr. Dedrick?'
'The house is called Ocean End. You probably know it. It's rather isolated and lonely. I'd be glad if you would come quickly.'
I know it. I'll be over in less than ten minutes.'
'There is a private road from Ocean View. You'll find the gates open. As a matter of fact, I have only just moved in here and...' He suddenly stopped talking.
I waited, then as nothing happened, I said, 'Hello?'
I could still hear his quick, uneven breathing, but he didn't answer.
'Hello? Mr. Dcdrick?'
His breathing went off the line. There was a long, silent pause, then a gentle click, and the line went dead.
IV
Ocean End is situated in the sand dunes, about three miles from my cabin. It was built in the late 'twenties for a millionaire who never lived there. Before he could take possession, be was caught in a financial smash and shot himself. For some years the place stood empty, then a syndicate bought it and made a pot of money out of it by renting it to visiting fleshpots and foreign nobility who considered themselves too grand to stay at the Orchid Hotel.