Like A Hole In The Head (15 page)

     "And the kids around here are hell?"

     I didn't say anything.

     "When I got here and found no one," he went on after a long pause, "I looked around. Did Mrs. Benson take her things with her? I looked in the closets . . . that's routine, Mr. Benson. Seemed to me nothing is missing."

     "I appreciate your interest," I said, "but you don't have to worry. This was a panic call. We didn't have much time. My wife took all she wanted for a few days."

     He stroked his nose while he continued to look at me.

     "Why isn't your pupil shooting?"

     The sudden shift of ground had me fazed.

     "Pupil?"

     "The rich guy you are teaching who is taking up all your time."

     "Oh . . . him." My mind worked quickly. "He quit yesterday."

     "Is that right? What was his trouble? Another sick friend?"

     "No trouble. He just got bored."

     "Is that Weston & Lees rifle in the gun rack his?"

     "Yes." I was beginning to sweat and this annoyed me. "I'm sending it back to him."

     "Why didn't he take it with him?"

     I had to stop this.

     "Do you care, Mr. Lepski?"

     He grinned.

     "I guess not." The grin went away. "This six hundred milimetre sight and silencer . . . Who is the planning to assassinate? The President?"

     I had left the sight and silencer in the box. He must have been hunting around in earnest to have found them.

     Somehow I forced a laugh.

     "He's gadget-minded. You know these guys with more money than sense. Every gun gadget he sees he has to have."

     "Yeah." Lepski nodded. "So now you have free time? No pupil . . . no wife. I've got free time tomorrow. How about me coming out here for a lesson?"

     That was the last thing I wanted.

     "Sorry, but I plan to join my wife. I'm shutting the school for a few days."

     "I don't seem to have any luck. Okay, we have a date on the 29th. Right?"

     "That's it. I haven't forgotten."

     He thought for a moment, then said, "That's a nice gun . . . the best. I'd like to own a gun like that."

     "Me too."

     His expression turned blank as he thought. I watched him, sure when he looked like that he was dangerous.

     "You mean he gave up taking lessons even when he had the telescopic sight?"

     "He got bored."

     Lepski scratched the side of his face.

     "Isn't money a wonderful thing? I'd liked to be bored." He took off his straw hat and fanned himself with it. "It's goddam hot, isn't it?" Before I could agree that it was hot, he went on, "So you're joining your wife. Where is she?" This was shot at me, quick and hard like a boxer's jab.

     By now, I was very alert.

     "Not all that far. Well, Mr. Lepski, I have things to do. See you on the 29th."

     "Sure. You have things to do." He hesitated, then he turned on his cop stare. "Keep your house locked in the future. We're not looking for unnecessary work."

     "I'll remember."

     "Well, so long, Mr. Benson. See you later."

     We shook hands, then he walked off to his car. I stood in the sun, watching until he had driven out of sight. I went back to the bungalow and cleared up. I packed a bag with enough things to last me a week. Then I found a sheet of paper and in block letters I wrote:

THE SCHOOL OF SHOOTING IS CLOSED UNTIL SEPTEMBER 28th.

     I put my bag in the car, went over to the shooting gallery, locked my guns away and collected the Weston & Lees rifle, the sight and the silencer.

     I drove down to the double gates, closed them and fixed the notice on the wooden upright, then I drove back to the little white house where I had a rendezvous in five days time with Diaz Savanto.

* * *

"I want to talk to Savanto," I said.

     We had just finished a scratch meal. Carlo's cooking was pretty had and none of us had eaten much. The moon was on the rise and the night was hot. It was very quiet and peaceful with the moon, the sea and the swaying palms, but I wasn't at peace.

     Raimundo regarded me.

     "Anything you say, soldier. When do you want to see him?"

     "Right now. Where is he?"

     "At the Imperial. Do you want me to come along?"

     "Yes."

     He looked surprised, but got to his feet and we went down to the Volkswagen.

     For the past four hours I had been wandering around, getting the feel of the place and working on the problems that had to be solved before I could even think of the shot. I was aware that I hadn't much time. I now had the problems lined up and four real tricky ones couldn't be solved without Savanto's help. If he couldn't handle them, we were in trouble.

     We found him sitting on the balcony of his hotel suite. He waved me to a chair.

     "Sit down, Mr. Benson. You have something on your mind?"

     I sat down while Raimundo propped himself against the balcony rail.

     "Yes, you could say that." I told him about Lepski's two visits. He listened, his eyes a little sleepy, his fingers doing a little dance on his knees.

     "This cop is sharp," I concluded. "Because you tricked me into agreeing to kill Diaz, I have now given him false information he will probably check. Because you lied to me about your son not being allowed to touch a firearm I told him about a rich client who doesn't exist. Now I have told him about a sick girl friend of my wife who also doesn't exist. If he checks, I am in trouble."

     "Why should he check, Mr. Benson?"

     I moved impatiently.

     "Do I have to spell it out? When I kill Diaz Savanto there will he a police inquiry. If I am to shoot him while he is skiing, the police will find out fast enough that he was shot with a high- powered rifle. It won't take them long to work out from where the gunman was shooting. They will also work out the gunman was using a powerful telescopic sight. Then Lepski will remember the Weston & Lees and the six hundred millimetre sight and the silencer. He will then remember my rich pupil who doesn't exist and he will remember my wife rushed off to visit a sick friend who doesn't exist. So he will come to me and ask questions. He . . ."

     Savanto raised his hand, stopping me.

     "All this you are telling me presents no problem, Mr. Benson, because the situation won't arise. The police will not investigate."

     I stared at him.

     "What makes you think that?"

     "Because they won't know about the shooting. You haven't understood the situation. I have given it considerable thought. When I learned that Diaz was planning an adulterous three days with the wife of Edward Willington I saw this was the perfect opportunity. The last thing Nancy Willington will want is for the police, followed by the press, to ask her what Diaz Savanto was doing on her husband's private estate. Let us consider the situation from her point of view. The two of them are skiing. Mysteriously, because you will be shooting with a silencer, Diaz drops. The boat stops. She finds he has been shot in the head. What does she do? Rush back and call the police? No. She will rely on the negress driving the boat to get the body out of the water. The negress will handle the situation. I assure you, Mr. Benson, we can rely on her. She is being extremely well paid. The body will be taken away by Diaz's men. The girl has plenty of money and she will be persuaded to pay them well. She would pay anything to avoid such publicity." Savanto lifted his heavy shoulders. "I assure you the police won't hear about this."

     "The girl might panic and call the police."

     "She won't be allowed to. The negress will handle her."

     I thought of this girl. I could see her, naked, young and excitedly happy on her skis. By squeezing the trigger of the Weston & Lees I would give her a future life of nightmares.

     "What have you to tell me about the shooting, Mr. Benson? It is the shooting I am interested in."

     "If it wasn't for this witness of yours, there would scarcely be a problem," I said. "I'll be able to tell you tomorrow for certain if I can nail him while he is skiing. I want first to get a view of the girl through the telescopic sight. I am pretty sure it is an acceptable shot, but I want to be certain. If it is, then Timoteo is to do his act on the flat roof of the house. You and your witness will escort him up there. Then you two leave and you will wait on the verandah with binoculars. I want him up there at

14.30. With luck, Diaz and the girl will show around 15.00. There is a big tree at the hack of the house offering plenty of cover. I'll be up there. When you and your witness leave the roof I'll join Timoteo. I'll do the shooting and get back into the tree. Timoteo joins you. It is up to him to convince your witness what a good shot he has been. What do you think?"

     Savanto considered this for some moments, then he nodded.

     "Yes . . . it is a good plan." He looked sharply at me, his black eyes glittering. "You will kill him?"

"I think so, but I'll tell you tomorrow."

"You had better be sure, Mr. Benson."

The threat was there.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

I left him.

     Raimundo followed me to the car. We drove hack in silence. The whole thing was comnletely unreal to me. but what was real was the Red Dragon brand on the verandah's upright.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

     I spent the following morning constructing a thatched roof made of palm leaves over part of the flat roof of the house. I had made so many of these anti-sun shelters in Vietnam that it came as second nature to me. Raimundo offered to help. I let him collect the palm leaves, but when it came to the thatching, I did it myself.

     If Timoteo and I had to be up on the roof for some hours at least we would have shelter from the afternoon sun.

     When I had finished, Raimundo regarded the shelter with an approving nod.

     "I can see you've done this before," he said. "Do you want to eat?"

     We went down and ate the sandwiches Carlo had ready.

     I had spent the night in a small back room in the house while Raimundo and Carlo had shared the larger room. I hadn't slept much, but I had done a lot of thinking. I had now got over my panic about Lucy. It was only when I had defeated the sick feeling of fear for her that I began to think constructively. I was sure that Savanto was primitive enough to carry out his threat to brand her if I failed him. I was sure he wasn't bluffing. Diaz was staying at the Willington estate for three days. I was hoping for time. Something might happen that could get both Lucy and me off the hook, given time.

     There was a telephone in the living-room. I considered the possibility of calling the police and telling them what was about to happen. This thought I put quickly out of my mind. I didn't know where Lucy was, and they could fix her before the police could find her. and I also would be in trouble if Raimundo or Carlo woke up and caught me talking on the telephone. It was too great a risk.

     If I had to, I would go through with the killing, but only if I was absolutely sure there was no other way to save Lucy. When Diaz appeared on the first day. I could pretend to miss him. I reasoned that Savanto would accept this if T plugged how tricky the shot was going to be. That would give me another night to think of a way out. Maybe it would be too risky to miss Diaz on the second clay, but at least I would have an extra night.

     After eating the sandwiches, Raimundo and I went back on the roof. I took the rifle with me.

     It was hot up there, but the shade from the shelter I had built made it bearable.

     Soon after 15.00 we heard the motorboat start up. I rested the rifle on the concrete surround of the roof and waited. The boat came into the bay, moving fast. I got the "naked girl in the telescopic sight and adjusted the focus. I got her head in the centre of the cross wires. The sight brought her close to me. In one way I was relieved, in another way, sickened. I saw at once that this would be an acceptable shot. Even though she jinked and banked on her skis, there were long moments when she was steady enough for me to hit her in the head. Maybe Diaz would show off a lot more, but even if he did there would come a time when he would ski in a straight line and that's when I could nail him.

     But I wasn't going to tell this to Raimundo. I followed her through the sight for another five minutes, then when the boat started on its return run, I lowered the rifle.

     "What's the verdict, soldier?"

     "It's going to be one hell of a shot," I told him. "It has to be a head shot. To be sure of killing him and not wounding him it has to be in the head. His head will be moving up and down all the time. I have to hit him in the brain. I'm sure I'll hit him, but I'm not sure I can hit him through the brain at this distance and with him moving. A brain shot like that is one hell of a shot."

     Raimundo put his hand under his shirt and began to scratch his chest. He looked worried.

     "You've got to kill him. If you only knock the bastard's teeth out, there'll be hell to pay and we'll probably never get another chance to nail him."

     "You don't have to tell me. I'm beginning to think this plan isn't good enough."

     Raimundo swore softly.

     "You'd better not tell Savanto that! He picked you for a first- class shot. You'd better be a first-class shot !"

     "He knows nothing about shooting," I said. "That's an eighthundredyard moving target and it has to be a brain shot . . . an inch square. There are less than five men in the world who could guarantee such a shot."