Like A Hole In The Head

     "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."