Like A Hole In The Head

     "It's where his new girl friend lives," Raimundo told me. "Nancy Willington. You've heard of her, haven't you?"

     "You mean Edward Willington's wife?"

     "That's the one."

     Edward Willington was the President of National Computers. He was always in the news. There were constant press photos of him shaking hands with the President, boarding his enormous yacht, getting into his Rolls and so on and so on. I remembered him as a tall, fat man around sixty-five years of age with a politician's smile and financier's eyes. He had been married three times and had married yet again a year or so ago to an eighteen-year-old model. The marriage had caused quite a newspaper yak. I hadn't paid much attention at the time, but the yak had been enough for me to remember.

     "Are you telling me Willington's wife is Diaz's new girl friend?"

     "That's it. They met when Willington took her with him on a business trip to Caracas. While he was making money, Diaz was taking Nancy around. Now Willington is going to Paris from September 26th to 30th. The big house is shut up. Nancy is supposed to be at the Spanish hotel until Willington comes back. There's a bungalow used for guests on the estate. That's where she is meeting Diaz."

     "How do you know all this?"

     Raimundo grinned.

     "We got at Nancy's coloured maid. She will be there to cook and clean while Diaz is screwing Nancy. Nancy told her the whole programme and she relayed it to me."

     "Let me look at the map of the estate."

     "Don't waste your time. I've been to the place and checked it. There would be no problem if he was on his own, but he isn't. His four boys are good. I don't say they are better shots than you, but they are good. They will be patrolling all the time." While he was talking, Carlo came out with a plate of sandwiches. "Eat something, soldier," Raimundo went on. "You don't have to worry about her." He was smart enough to read my thoughts. The sight of those sandwiches had turned my mind to Lucy who had been getting my lunch ready when I had left her. "When Mr. Savanto says someone is okay, you can believe it."

     "I want to talk to her on the telephone. You make the connection and let me talk to her."

He hesitated.

     "I've got to talk to her," I urged. "Maybe she is safe, but she doesn't know it. If Savanto wants the job done well, I've got to talk to her."

     He chewed his sandwich while he thought, then he nodded.

     "Makes sense to me. Just don't tell Mr. Savanto."

     He went into the house. I waited, my heart thumping. It was a five minute wait. To me it seemed like an hour, then he came to the door.

     "She's on the line."

     I went into the hot sitting-room and picked up the telephone receiver.

     "Lucy?"

     "Oh, Jay . . ."

     The sound of her voice, scared and unsteady, hit me under the heart.

     "Are you all right?"

     "Yes. Jay, what does all this mean?"

     "Don't worry about it. Are you being looked after?"

     "Oh, yes, but Jay ! I must know . . . what's happening?"

     "Don't worry. Trust me. I'll be with you in a few days. Just trust me . . ." I heard a click on the line and it went dead.

     Well, I had got some kind of message over. At least, she had told me she was all right. Of course she was scared, but now I hoped she would hang on, remembering what I had said.

     "Got that off your chest, soldier?" Raimundo asked. He was standing in the doorway, watching me.

I replaced the receiver.

"It helped."

     I returned to the verandah and sat down. I was now more relaxed and hungry. As Raimundo sat by my side, we both reached for sandwiches.

     "If I can't nail him on the estate where do I nail him?" I asked.

     "In around ten minutes you'll see." He chewed for a moment, then went on, "The Little Brothers are sending a witness who has to be convinced Timoteo did the shooting."

     "Who will that be?"

     Raimundo spat over the verandah rail.

     "Fernando Lopez. He is a big shot in the organisation and he hates Savanto. He's sure Timoteo hasn't the guts to knock Diaz off. It'll be your business to convince him."

     I didn't like the sound of this.

     "If he's going to stand over Timoteo while he shoots we can give up right now."

     "Mr. Savanto will be here. He won't let him stand over him. This is something we have to work out."

     I looked at him.

     "Just why are you getting involved in this? You're making yourself an accessory to murder."

     Raimundo fingered his jaw tenderly.

     "I don't see it that way. Mr. Savanto did me a lot of good when I was a kid. I owe him plenty." His black eyes hardened. "This has got to work, soldier."

     "So he tells me or my wife gets branded."

     "When it's done you'll be a rich man. Savanto keeps his promises. You'll only have yourself to blame if he puts the iron on her."

     I felt a cold chill crawl up my spine.

     "He will do it?"

     "He'll do it."