The Adventurers (59 page)

He watched for a moment, then suddenly it disappeared. He leaped to his feet and flung open the French doors to the terrace. No one was there. It wasn't until the next morning that he discovered his imagination hadn't been playing him tricks. For at breakfast he discovered the Von Kuppens were gone.

CHAPTER 15

There was a note from the German on the breakfast table thanking him for his hospitality and apologizing for having to leave so early. He looked up as Francois brought his coffee. "Have they already left?"

"Oui. I called a taxi for them at seven. They have gone to the Negresco in Nice."

Jeremy picked up his cup thoughtfully. It was strange. Another hour and he could have driven them over himself.

"Ham and eggs, monsieur?"

Jeremy nodded.

"Me too," Tommy said, coming into the dining room. He sank into a chair and reached for the coffee. "Oh, my head!"

Jeremy smiled. "You must have had yourself a time last night. I don't see how Von Kuppen got off so early."

"Oh, he wasn't with me," Tommy said. "Have they left already?"

Jeremy handed him the note. "Didn't he leave with you?"

"He did, only by the time we got to the gate he had changed his mind. I offered to drive him back to the house but he said not to bother because he liked a little walk after dinner. So I let him out and went on."

"I didn't hear him come back." Then Jeremy remembered. Or had he? The shadow on the terrace, could it have been Von Kuppen?

"You look odd. Anything wrong?"

He shook his head. He wondered whether Marlene had suspected that her husband might be laying a trap for them. Then Francois came in with their breakfast, and he pushed the thought out of his mind. The Von Kuppens were gone now, there was no point in thinking about them. He had been lucky.

By that afternoon he had completely forgotten about them. As usual his mother and sisters brought guests down from Paris. Sergei Nikovitch, who was doing their wardrobes that year, and Giselle d'Arcy, the actress. There was some talk that they were planning to get married; they had been going together for several years. Jim's wife, Angela, and the children arrived in the afternoon.

The house began to fill with people and in a few short hours Jeremy was certain the decibel rise on the Cap d'Antibes had alerted everyone that the Hadleys had returned.

Dinner that evening was the usual family madness. In the middle of it Frangois bent over him. "There is a telephone call for you, monsieur."

He went into the study and picked up the extension phone. "Hello."

"Jeremy?"

Even though the voice was a mere whisper he recognized it instantly. "Yes, Marlene?"

"I must see you." There was a strained urgency in the whisper. "He is going to kill me!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"He is," she interrupted harshly, "you don't know him. You don't know what he is capable of, he is crazy. The reason I did not come down to dinner last night was because he had beaten me black and blue. That's why we left so early this morning."

He was silent for a moment. "I don't understand. He had no reason, unless you told him."

"I told him nothing. But he says he will keep beating me until I tell him the truth."

"Why don't you leave him?"

"I can't. When he leaves me alone he handcuffs me to the bed."

"Handcuffs?" His voice was incredulous.

"Yes." She began to cry. "It's been like this ever since we got married. Whenever he goes out."

"Then how will you be able to see me?"

"He is going to the casino about eleven. I heard him reserve a seat at the tout va table. Come at midnight. I'll have the porter let you in."

"But—"

"Come!" she said suddenly, fiercely. "I hear him coming now. I have to hang up."

The receiver went dead in his hands. He looked down at it a moment, then replaced it on the cradle. He didn't like what was happening but her terror seemed very real.

He pulled up in front of the Hotel Negresco a few minutes after midnight. He got out of the car and stood for a few minutes hesitating, then walked a few blocks down the Promenades des Anglais to the Casino de la Mediterranee. He bought an admission card and went into the casino.

It was early in the season but already the roulette tables were jammed. He walked past the trente-quarante and chemin de fer tables. Behind the railing at the end of the large room was the tout va table, no-limit baccarat.

The usual crowd around the outside railing was watching the big-money players with fascination. Keeping well to the back, he peered over their heads. At least she had been telling the truth. Von Kuppen sat just to the dealer's left, staring down at the table with fierce concentration. He didn't even look up when the dealer threw two cards in front of him.

He turned and went back to the hotel and picked up a house phone and called her.

She answered in a whisper. "Room 406."

"I'll be right up."

He replaced the phone, and went to the elevator. When he got off on the fourth floor, he walked to the hall porter's desk. The hall porter silently got to his feet and led him down the corridor. In front of 406 he took out a key and opened the door.

"Merci." Jeremy pressed a coin into his hand.

"Merci, monsieur," the porter answered expressionlessly.

He closed the door behind him and stood in the entrance to a living room. He crossed to another door on the far side and knocked.

"Jeremy?" Her voice was muffled by the door.

"Yes." He tried the door. It didn't open.

"He took the key and locked it from the outside. You'll have to get the porter back."

"That would be stupid." He was beginning to get angry. Von Kuppen must really be out of his mind. "There must be another key around somewhere."

There was, in the door to a hall closet. And with typical French frugality all the doors were fitted with the same locks. In a moment he stood in the doorway staring at her. Marlene had not been lying. A handcuff around her ankle linked her securely to the bedpost.

She lay there staring back at him, the sheet up tightly under her chin. "I look terrible," she said unexpectedly, and began to cry.

"Don't," he said harshly, crossing to the bed. "I'll get you out of here."

He tested the handcuff. It was locked, all right. "I'll have to find something to open the lock."

He went back into the other room. Behind the small bar he found an ice pick. "Slide down toward the foot of the bed, I'll need as much play in the chain as I can get."

It took him almost an hour, but finally he managed to snap the tumblers on the lock. Suddenly it sprang open. He stared down at her ankle. It was raw and bleeding. He looked at her with a new respect. She hadn't made a sound.

"Can you stand up?"

"I'll try." Marlene swung her legs off the bed and, still clutching the sheet, reached for his hand. She got to her feet, swaying slightly.

"You O.K.?"

"I'll make it." She gestured toward a closet. "My clothes are in there."

He came back with a dress and a coat. Marlene was leaning against the bedpost. "My brassiere and slip are in the top drawer."

When he brought them to her she looked at him with a wry smile. "You'll have to help me." "Better sit down. It'll be easier."

Marlene sank onto the bed with a sigh of relief. She let the sheet drop, and held out her hand for the brassiere. He stared at her, shocked. Her full breasts were covered with dark bruises, and there were ugly red welts down her belly and across her back. She saw his expression. "You didn't believe me. Nobody would."

She rolled over on her stomach. He stared down at her naked buttocks. Traced across each cheek was an evenly spaced row of raw blistered circles. "He did that with a cigar."

"Last night?" he asked incredulously.

"Last night."

"But how? We heard nothing."

"He put a gag in my mouth."

"Get up," he said harshly. "I'm getting you out of here." Suddenly all his wartime hatred of the Germans came back. He felt almost sick

It was not until they were in the car and he had automatically turned back toward the villa that she spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home."

A sudden fear came into her voice. "No, you mustn't. That's the first place he'd look."

"Where else can I take you? You're going to need medical attention."

"Anywhere, just not there."

"I can't take you to another hotel; he has your passport." He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was almost two-thirty. "How late does he stay at the casino?"

"Generally until the game closes down."

"The most we have is two hours then. That doesn't give us much time to make up our minds."

He drove along silently for a few moments, then he had a sudden idea. He didn't know how it came to him or where he had seen it—maybe in the morning Nice-Matin that Frangois always left beside his plate. But somewhere he had read that Dax had taken a villa at Saint-Tropez for the summer.

He sped past the Antibes turnoff and headed on up the coast road. Fervently he hoped that Dax would be there. He hadn't seen him since that time in Palm Beach more than a year ago, just before Dax and Caroline had been divorced.

CHAPTER 16

He managed to get the location of Dax's villa from the gendarmerie. It was out toward the end of the peninsula near Tahiti Beach, on an old narrow road over which he drove carefully and slowly. He glanced at Marlene. She seemed to be sleeping, her eyes closed. The villa was almost at the water's edge. With a sense of relief he saw lights blazing from the windows. At least he wouldn't have to wake anybody up.

A faint hum of conversation came to him from the open windows as he went up to the front door. He pulled the old-fashioned bellpull. Its loud clanging echoed in the night.

Her voice called from the car. "Where are we?"

He looked back at her. "At a friend's- house."

The door opened and Fat Cat looked out. "Quien es?"

"It's me, Fat Cat." He moved so the light shone onto his face. "Is Mr. Xenos here?"

Fat Cat recognized him. "Senor Hadley. Come in."

A burst of laughter issued from inside the house. Jeremy hesitated, then turned so Fat Cat could see the girl in the car. "Could you ask Mr. Xenos to come out here, please?"

Fat Cat glanced at the car, then back at Jeremy. He nodded knowingly. "De seguro, senor."

He disappeared into the house and came back in a moment with Dax. A warm smile came over Dax's face when he saw him. "Jeremy." He held out his hand. "Why don't you come in?"

Jeremy took his hand. "I have a problem."

Then Dax, too, saw the girl in the car. He raised a quizzical eyebrow but didn't hesitate. "Drive the car around on the other side of the house. Fat Cat and I will meet you there."

With a sense of relief, Jeremy went back to the car. He got in and started the motor.

"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously.

"Just around to the side." He smiled at her. "Don't worry, everything's all right now." And for the first time that night he believed it.

It was near five that morning when Jeremy turned the little red MG into the villa on the Cap d'Antibes. He nodded to himself with satisfaction. Dax knew what he was doing. "Take my car," he'd said. "I'll return yours about noon. The police may be on the lookout for it tonight."

The house was dark and silent. He wondered how long it would be before Von Kuppen would come with the gendarmes. Maybe he would have time to get a little sleep. He was exhausted. He went upstairs to his room and was asleep almost before he got out of his clothes.

The sun was streaming through the windows when Tommy shook him. "Wake up."

He rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," his brother answered. "You been playing Sir Galahad?"

"What do you mean?" Jeremy was wide awake now.

"Von Kuppen's downstairs with a couple of gendarmes. He claims you kidnapped his wife last night. And Dad's blowing his cork!"

"Father's here already?"

"Half an hour ago. They both arrived almost at the same time."

He staggered out of bed and went into the bathroom. He got under the shower and turned on the cold water. The icy stream hit him, and he swung his arms about wildly until he felt the blood pumping through him, then turned off the water. "Hand me a towel, will you?"

Tommy threw him one. "You're taking this pretty calmly."

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, rubbing himself briskly.

"I don't know. But I'd be worried if I put the snatch on some guy's wife."

"Maybe it wasn't me."

Tommy looked at him. "I'm glad you said maybe. It kind of keeps the faith."

Von Kuppen was at him almost before he entered the room. "What did you do with my wife?"

He stared at him coldly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His father was watching. "Mr. Von Kuppen claims you took his wife from his hotel last night."

He looked at his father. "Did he see me with her?"

Von Kuppen turned angrily to the gendarmes. "I didn't have to see him. The night doorman saw her get into a Cadillac convertible. It was his car all right—they're not that common around here."

"Did he see me get into the car?"

"What does that matter? He recognized my wife. That's enough."

Jeremy smiled. "Not quite. You see, I wasn't driving the Cadillac last night."

They stared at him. Jeremy looked at the policemen. "Come outside, I can prove it."

His father fell into step beside him. "I hope you know what you're doing," he whispered.

Jeremy glanced at him. There was nothing if not complete honesty within the family. "I hope so, too."

His father didn't answer but Jeremy saw his lips tighten. The old man wouldn't be exactly happy if a scandal exploded in the family right now. Especially with Jim going into politics.

He stopped in front of the little red MG. "That's the car I was driving last night."