Six years as a call girl hadn't spoilt nor toughened her. She was, Brady had often thought, the blueprint of a whore with a golden heart. She had a warm, sympathetic streak in her that men could sense. She was used to men confiding their troubles to her, and she always listened, patted them, smiled at them and let them unburden.
It wasn't long before Mike told her about his daughter, Chrissy. They had been sitting together, waiting for Brady to return from his meeting with Haddon, and Maggie had told Mike about her father.
'You remind me of him,' she said. 'Not in looks, but by the way you talk. Soldiers talk alike.'
'I guess,' Mike said. 'You know, Maggie, I have never done a crooked thing in my life until now.'
Maggie laughed. 'I've wondered about that. I'm not crazy about this business, but I'm crazy about Lu. I would do anything for him. What made you join with us, Mike?'
So he told her about Chrissy. Listening, Maggie became so moved, tears came to her eyes.
'How awful!' she exclaimed when Mike had explained that the money Brady was going to pay him would go to take care of Chrissy until she died. 'You mean the poor little thing will die in fifteen years time?'
Mike nodded.
'Why, that's terrible!' Maggie wiped a tear away. 'Mike, you are a marvelous father!'
'I love her,' Mike said quietly. 'My one thought is to provide for her. That's the only reason why I'm doing this job.'
He looked at Maggie. 'Will it work?'
'It'll work,' Maggie said. 'Lu is marvelous! You don't think I want to go to jail?' She grimaced. 'What a thought! But Lu told me it will work and I won't go to jail, so that means it will work, Mike. Don't worry about that.'
'Lu isn't really an old man, is he? When he leaves his wheelchair, his movements are those of a young man.'
'He's younger than you are, Mike. He is a great artist. Don't worry.'
At this moment, they heard Brady enter the chalet and walk quickly to the bedroom, he and Maggie shared. As he passed the living room door, he called, 'Maggie! I want you!'
Maggie scrambled to her feet and ran into the bedroom, shutting the door. Brady was sitting at the dressing table, quickly putting on his disguise. He had no intention of letting Mike see what he really looked like. He was uneasy about Mike. If something went wrong and Mike got into the hands of the police, he just might give them a description of Brady as he really was, and that must never happen.
'Hi, darling,' Maggie exclaimed, coming to him.
He waved her away, intent on turning himself into an old man.
'Baby! Work! This reception clerk, Claude Previn. How's it going with him?' There was a snap in his voice that startled Maggie.
'Is something wrong, honey?'
'Don't yammer,' Brady said, fixing his moustache. 'How are you and Previn progressing?'
'He's so hot he's likely to burst into flames,' Maggie said.
'He's off duty now?'
'Yes.'
'Can you contact him?'
Maggie blinked. 'You mean now?'
'Of course I mean now! Don't be a pea-brain!'
'Oh, Lu, you do sound cross!' Maggie said. 'I don't know if I can contact him. I do have his telephone number.'
'Where does he live?'
'He didn't tell me.'
Brady gave an exasperated sigh. 'Call him!'
He finished fixing his moustache, and began working age into the skin on his face. 'Now pay attention. You are going to him, wherever he is, and you're going to screw him stupid. Understand? When you have softened him up, you are going to find out where the hotel safe is located.'
Maggie's eyes opened wide. 'How do I do that, hon?'
'Tell him your patient is eccentric. He's expecting some valuable jewelry which he plans to give to his daughter. He wants to know about the security system of the hotel, and where the safe is. He will want to inspect the safe. Tell him you are scared of your patient and you don't want to lose your job. Tell him your patient is very difficult. Are you with me?'
Maggie thought for a long moment. Brady could almost hear her brain working. 'But, Lu, pet, can't I tell him all this tomorrow when he's on duty, instead of having to go to bed with him?'
'No! When we bust the safe, the cops will ask questions. I don't want you to be involved. Previn will keep his mouth shut rather than admit he has been having it off with you.'
Maggie considered this, then she smiled. 'I always thought you were smart, Lu.'
Bradey pointed to the telephone. 'Call him.'
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The following evening, Ed Haddon was sitting at the corner table of the seafood restaurant, nibbling black olives, a double martini before him when Brady came in. The maitre d' arrived as Brady sat down.
'Have the Chicken Maryland,' Haddon said. 'It's good.'
Brad said the Chicken Maryland was fine with him.
Haddon ordered a Scotch on the rocks for Brady which arrived while the two men sat silently waiting.
After Brady had sipped his drink, he said, 'You asked for action, Ed. You've got it.'
'No more than I expected.' Haddon grinned. 'As partners, we're the best.'
As the waiter was fussing around, providing bread rolls, butter and canapes, the two men relapsed into silence. It wasn't until the chicken was served and the waiter had gone, that Haddon said, 'You found out where the safe is?'
Brady cut off a portion of chicken breast, dipped it into a bowl of chilli sauce and conveyed it to his mouth. He chewed, nodded, said, 'This is great!'
Haddon had never known anyone as devoted to food as Brady. In spite of his leanness, Brady adored good cooking. Haddon contained his impatience. After five minutes while Brady ate as if he hadn't eaten for a week, Haddon repeated his question. 'The safe?'
'Gimme a minute,' Brady said, cutting into the chicken thigh. 'You know something, Ed?' He was speaking with his mouth full. 'When I was a kid, I starved. I'm not kidding. If I got a bit of moldy bread once a day, I was lucky. My mum died of starvation. Food is the most beautiful thing in life!'
Haddon lost patience. 'Lu! The goddam safe!' The rasp in his voice startled Brady who reluctantly laid down his fork.
'Maggie got the dope. You'll never guess where the hotel safe is located. You would have thought it was somewhere behind the reception desk where most safes are, or even in the basement. Right?'
Haddon snarled, 'Where is it?'
'On the penthouse floor. How do you like that?'
Haddon absorbed this information, then grinned. 'I love it. Tell me.'
'Maggie got the reception clerk to bed. She spun him a yarn about her eccentric patient. Maggie really knows her business, and Previn was drained dry. So she fixed he should conduct me with Maggie to take a look at the safe. There's a special elevator up to the penthouse floor that leads right into the safe room. The Warrentons wouldn't even know the safe room is up there. What happens is this: every night, before the guests retire, they call the security guards and put their valuables into boxes. Each box is numbered and the guests get a receipt. The boxes are taken by this elevator to the safe. This service begins at 23.00 and goes to 02.00. After that time, the service packs up.
'Previn -- the reception clerk -- panting to get Maggie into his bed again, gave me a look-see. This is strictly against hotel regulations, but Maggie sexed him with promises of yet another night. The safe looks tough, but that's my business. What the real problem is, once we bust the safe, is how to get all those boxes down from the penthouse floor and out of the hotel. This needs thought.'
Haddon nodded. 'I'll give it thought, too.'
He ate while he brooded, then he went on, 'I've seen Kendrick. He can handle the Warrenton diamonds. He offers five million. That means he will get six. Fair enough. But he's uneasy about the boxes. They will have to be opened and the lot valued. This will take time. The heat will be fierce. The first suspect will be Kendrick. I can see his angle. Maybe I'll have to find another fence for the boxes.'
Brady grimaced. 'Maybe it would be better to forget the boxes and go for the Warrenton diamonds.'
'If the safe had been anywhere else but on the penthouse floor, Lu, I would agree with you, but this is like a gift from the gods. All this needs is more thought. The Warrentons' diamonds, plus the contents of the boxes, will give us each something like eight million.'
Brady considered this. Eight million! What couldn't he do with a sum like that!
'Tell me about the safe room and this elevator,' Haddon went on, watching the greed lighting up in Brady's eyes.
'The elevator is located on the top floor, then goes up, one floor, to the penthouse floor. The elevator door on the top floor is concealed by a door marked Service. Previn unlocked this door and Maggie pushed my chair into the cage. There is a lock, instead of a button, on the elevator. Previn had a key. Putting the key in the lock and turning the key, caused the elevator to rise up one floor and we moved into the safe room. This room has no windows nor doors, but I saw there was a trap door in the ceiling which was probably a way of escape, onto the roof, in case of fire.'
Haddon finished his chicken. 'Okay, Lu, think about it. Did you get a look at one of the security boxes?'
'Sure. Previn showed me one. The lock is for the birds.'
'If there were twenty boxes in that safe, how long would it take you to open all of them?'
'Half an hour,' Brady replied promptly.
'So, suppose, after you have grabbed the Warrentons' diamonds, you get into the safe room, open the safe, open the boxes, empty their contents into a sack, close the boxes, put them back and relock the safe. Suppose you did that?'
Brady turned this suggestion over in his mind. 'It'll need thought and organizing, Ed, but it's an idea. Give me a day or so to think about it, will you?'
'I'll have to talk to Kendrick again,' Haddon said. 'Yes, the night after tomorrow. We'll get this finalized. Right?'
'The night after tomorrow, here,' Brady said, then, 'How about some of that apple pie I had the other night? It was good.'
As the sun, like a crimson rim of fire, slid into the sea and dusk settled over the waterfront, Manuel Torres walked towards his fishing vessel. He carried a canvas sack over his shoulder. His bald head resembled an orange in the light of the fading sunset. He paused now and then to exchange greetings with other Cubans who were aimlessly waiting for the time when they could return to their shacks, hoping their wives would provide some sort of meal.
There was a cold, gloomy expression on Manuel's face as he walked the gang plank onto his vessel. Carefully, he laid down the canvas sack, then pulled in the gang plank. As he had approached his vessel, his eyes darted to right and left. There were no signs of watching detectives, nor even a cop.
He whistled to alert Fuentes that he was back, then picking up the sack, he walked the deck to the forward cabin which was in darkness. He had warned Fuentes not to put on the lights. He had been away some six hours, and he felt sorry for Fuentes, sitting in the growing darkness, alone, but at least he had left him food.
He entered the cabin, closed the door, then turned on the light. Fuentes, lying on the bunk, sat up.
'You have taken your time!' he snarled. 'Do you imagine I like it, lying here, waiting and waiting?'
'My friend,' Manuel said quietly, 'you have no need to wait and wait. You are not a prisoner. You have only to get up and walk away. No one, except the cops, will stop you.'
Deflated, Fuentes lay back on the hard mattress. 'I'm worked up. It is no fun being cooped up in this hot cabin for hours. Forget it, Manuel. I know you are doing your best for me, and I'm grateful.'
Manuel began to unpack the canvas sack. 'Tonight, we will eat well,' he said. 'Pasta, chicken, cheese.'
Fuentes was studying Manuel's face, lit by the overhead lamp. Manuel's dark, brooding expression alarmed him. 'Is there something wrong?' he asked. He got off the bunk and approached the table on which Manuel was laying out a pack of spaghetti, cans of tomato and chilli sauces and a plump chicken.
'We eat first,' Manuel said. 'I am hungry.' Although he hadn't emptied the sack, he pulled the strings, closing the sack and placed it carefully in a locker.
'You have something else there?' Fuentes asked.
'The bombs,' Manuel said. 'But first we eat.'
He moved into the small galley. After putting a saucepan of water on the gas ring, then turning on the electric grill, he opened the cans. He put the chicken on the rotor spit. His movements were methodical, his expression remained gloomy.
Fuentes stood in the doorway of the galley, nervously watching Manuel. He hadn't seen this man so thoughtful nor so gloomy before, and his nervousness increased.
'Is there trouble?' he asked after some minutes.
'We eat. Then we talk,' Manuel said, putting the spaghetti into the now boiling water.
Fuentes returned to the cabin and set knives and forks. He then sat on the bunk and waited.
Forty minutes later, the two men sat at the table, each with half a grilled chicken and a bowl of spaghetti, smothered in chilli and tomato sauces. Manuel wolfed down the food. His face was still set in a gloomy mask.
Fuentes, uneasy, ate slowly. He kept looking at Manuel, then away. Finally, he exploded, 'Manuel, my friend! What has happened? Tell me for the love of God!'
'He is going to die,' Manuel said, finishing the last of the chicken.
Fuentes stiffened. 'You mean Pedro?'
'Who else? I have talked to my friend at the hospital. There is now no hope. It is a matter of time. Pedro could survive for a week, even two weeks, but he is a dead man already.'
Fuentes, who thought only of himself, relaxed. 'So we don't need the bombs?' He had a horror of being connected with bombs. 'So we have less problems?'
Manuel stared at him. His little eyes were like black olives. 'My friend, you are not thinking. You seem to have forgotten what we are planning to do, you, Anita and me.'
Fuentes stared at him. 'You are wrong! I know well what we plan to do! We get into the penthouse of the hotel, hold these two rich people for ransom and leave for Havana with five million dollars. Why do you say I am not thinking?'