Mission of Murder, page 4
Larren was saved from having to answer by the abrupt arrival of Savino returning with the drinks.
For the next half hour Carla kept the conversation at mild flirtation level and seemed to be hardly aware of Savino fuming beside them. Larren wasn’t too happy with the situation as he didn’t particularly want an open fight with the young Greek, but the job demanded that he back up her chatter. He had progressed beyond hope in the past few hours and it was too late to back-pedal now.
Drunken revellers still wandered in and out of the room and a small bunch had re-grouped around the drinks table, but it was clear that the party was breaking up. The record player was broken and there was very little left in the bottles. The atmosphere of cigarette and cigar smoke was becoming stifling, even though the windows were all open.
Savino was very much the worse for drink and Carla was swaying tipsily. Larren still felt clear-headed despite the few mouthfuls of alcohol he had swallowed when he had tempted the luckless Nina into knocking herself out. Slowly Larren became aware that apart from himself there were only two other people in the villa who were relatively sober; they were the two men at the card table who had glared at Savino so ferociously. They were both unobtrusively watching Carla Valedri and he sensed that like Savino they were not pleased with his intrusion. There were more complications than seemed possible surrounding this raven-haired beauty and instinct warned him to walk warily.
There was an eventual lull in Carla’s talk and Larren felt obliged to fill it.
“What’s happened to everybody?” he asked. “The place seems empty all of a sudden.”
Carla smiled. “Some of them will be upstairs in the bedrooms, but a lot of them will be down on the beach. This villa is only a hundred yards from the sea.” The memory gave her an idea for she said abruptly, “Would you like to go swimming, Simon?”
“You know that I cannot swim,” Savino interrupted curtly.
Larren knew that this was Savino’s cue to exit and wondered how he would take it. Calmly he said, “I’d love to go swimming, but I haven’t got a costume.”
Carla laughed. “Bathing costumes are not necessary at Dimitri’s parties, but as you are English I will find you one. Will you excuse us, Savino.”
Savino was not willing to excuse them, Larren saw it in his eyes. He tensed for the Greek to make some move but the expression in Savino’s eyes faltered slowly and died. Savino had been looking over Larren’s shoulder and Larren had the strange feeling that one of the men behind him had made some calming sign. He didn’t like it.
When he and Carla walked past the table where the large man and his companion sat neither looked up. Savino made no attempt to follow them.
When they got outside there was a slight breeze blowing and starlight eased the darkness of the night. Carla took Larren’s arm and led him through soft, grass-tufted sand dunes, and after a few yards they covered a slight rise and he saw the black expanse of the sea. Gentle waves rippled almost soundlessly up the beach and the night seemed very still. The only sound was some distant splashing where some of the party refugees played on the sea’s edge. Larren guessed that most of those who had sought the beach had wanted the privacy of some of the lonelier hollows among the dunes.
They reached a small beach hut and Carla pulled away from him and went inside. After a moment she threw out a pair of men’s bathing trunks and said, “I don’t know whose they are, but try them on for size.”
Larren picked them up and moved round to the side of the hut, guessing that she was changing within. He slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the trunks. They fitted well and the breeze played cold on his chest as he waited for Carla. He was half expecting Savino and his friends to follow him out and cause trouble, but although he listened as he waited he heard nothing.
There was a movement in the door of the changing hut and he turned. Carla Valedri stood there in a two-piece swimming costume of red silk, it was secured by two bows, one at the hip and one under her arm, and if she had bought it by the inch it would have been given away. Dark shadows played on the smooth lines of her body and she gave Larren a teasing push and then ran laughing to the sea.
Larren sprinted after her and followed her into the low waves. The water was pleasantly warm and he struck out to catch her. She avoided him for several minutes and proved herself an excellent swimmer, then she turned back and made for the shallows.
Larren was beside her as she stood up in waist-deep water and he pulled her to him. Her mouth touched his hungrily for a moment and then she pulled away. Larren knew that she wanted to play and hurled himself after her. They fell and wrestled in the salt waves and her wet limbs slipped snake-like through his fingers.
She ran up the beach, but she wanted to be caught and turned with the sea still tumbling round her knees to face him. He closed the gap between them and she clung to him and made no more attempts to pull away as she answered his demanding kiss. Her half open lips had a salty, sensuous taste that aroused him. The top half of her costume had floated away on a wave as they had wrestled and now the movement of her breasts against his chest stirred his blood into lust.
He tried to lift her to carry her up the beach but she twisted violently and they both toppled over again into the shallow wavelets. Carla was underneath him and still kissing feverishly, and he became aware that somehow she had pulled the bow that had supported the bottom half of her costume and that too was floating away with the movement of the sea. They were half in the waves and half out, but her desire was so commanding that it didn’t matter a damn. Her kisses were fiercer and her arms were as fast as steel bands about his shoulders.
As the waves rippled around them Larren knew why Carla had wanted him out of the villa and here on the sea’s edge. He knew too why she had wanted to drop Savino and find another man for what was left of the night.
Carla Valedri was an insatiable nymphomaniac.
CHAPTER 5: CAUSE FOR REGRET
Carla was reluctant to return to the villa. She was happy and contented now and the prospect of stirring any further trouble with Savino no longer seemed to appeal to her. The party was over and she wanted to be taken home, and she suggested that they should circle round to Larren’s car through the villa grounds.
Larren had no objections. He guessed that Savino was probably drinking himself into a murderous rage while he waited for them to come back, and although he had no worries about the young Greek he was not quite so happy about the large man and his bespectacled companion. There was a connection somewhere between those three and an instinct sharpened by experience told him that the combination was dangerous.
They still lay together in the warm waves but the breeze was becoming cold on Larren’s shoulders. He stood up and helped Carla to her feet, and then led her back to the small changing hut where they had left their clothes. She found a towel and handed it to him, and again his senses pulsed as he rubbed it down the soft curves of her body. They dried and dressed and then she led him back across the dunes.
The villa rose before them, its lights still spilling from every window. There was still noise from inside but it was very subdued. Carla turned away from the villa, leading him through the sweet-smelling pines that enclosed it on either side. They circled the villa and then came out on to the gravel driveway that led up to the front porch. Savino’s red sports car was still there with several others; Carla looked at it and then smiled at Larren without embarrassment as they passed. Somewhat doubtfully Larren identified his own battered Renault.
She looked at the crumpled bonnet and laughed. “Will it start?” she asked.
Larren opened the passenger door for her to get in. “I hope so,” he said. “I don’t think the engine suffered any damage, it’s just the bodywork that’s dented.”
He slipped into the driving seat and silently prayed that he was right as he tried the starter. For he had a solid suspicion that Carla would sooner return to Savino with his shiny sports car than wait out in the driveway while he phoned a taxi. He felt happier when the engine purred into life, sounding completely unaffected by its rough handling, but he didn’t fully relax until he was back on the road with the car still behaving as though nothing had happened.
He remembered to ask her where she wanted to be taken to before heading back to Athens and the Hotel Tripolis. He settled down to drive and almost immediately she slipped her arms tightly around his shoulders and waist and began kissing him on the mouth. He was glad that he had plenty of room on the dual carriageway, and more relieved still when she finally relaxed and snuggled her head on his shoulder. She was undoubtedly a nerve-racking playmate.
After a few minutes he noticed that he had company on the road, for the headlights of another car showed up in his rear mirror. He didn’t bother to slow down and see whether or not the car stayed on his tail or passed him, he simply wondered wearily whether it was Savino’s red sports or the large American Chevrolet that had formed part of the convoy out to the villa.
After five minutes he decided that it must be the Chevrolet. He could only see the lights and not the car behind them, but Savino’s sports was a very low car and the headlights of his pursuer were fairly high off the road. He wondered whether the unknown man behind him had been watching to make sure who was taking Carla home when the party broke up, or whether Savino or one of his associates had warned him that she had switched escorts.
The Chevrolet followed him all the way into Athens, but when he turned around Omonia Square it was no longer there. He drove on to the Hotel Tripolis, half believing that the man in the Chevrolet had become certain of their destination and would be already parked and waiting in the same street. However, there was no sign of the big American car as he pulled up before the hotel entrance, and the fact made him more uneasy than he would have been if he had been proved right. While the enemy was behind you at least he couldn’t suddenly appear from any other direction.
Carla straightened up from his shoulder and said, “Can you face another drink, Simon? Or have you had enough?”
He grinned. “I’m game enough to try.
They got out of the car and he took her arm as they went into the hotel. The clerk at the desk looked at them hesitantly and offered them a strained goodnight as they passed. When they were alone in the lift Carla’s face registered annoyance.
“Damn that clerk,” she said angrily. “He’s got the moral judgement of an old maid.”
“Forget him.” Larren kissed her just to prove that it was good advice.
The lift stopped and they walked down a carpeted corridor. The room that Carla led him into had deep pile carpets and matching furniture in dark oak. Through an open door on the far side was a large double bed with a pale pink counterpane. Carla followed Larren’s gaze through the open door and shook her head regretfully.
“Not tonight, Simon. That bore downstairs would turn me out tomorrow.” She smiled and added, “I would find a less respectable hotel, but they are never anywhere near as comfortable. And as there are parties like Dimitri’s most nights it isn’t really necessary.”
He watched her pour out two final shots of scotch and they toasted each other silently. Her eyes teased him over her glass and she sipped slowly. Finally she put the glass down empty and said:
“That’s it, Simon. Kiss me goodnight.”
Larren put one arm about her waist and reached up to knot his fingers in her hair, gently pulling her head back as his lips crushed the soft moist mouth. Her eyes were still closed when he stepped back.
“Goodnight, Carla,” he said softly.
And then he turned to the door. He knew better than to beg.
As he opened it he looked back and added, “I’ll call you tomorrow. If it’s fine we can take another bathe.”
She smiled. “I’d like that. Goodnight, Simon.”
She came over and closed the door behind him.
Larren walked thoughtfully back to the lift. He knew that Carla Valedri was still interested and that he had accomplished the first part of his mission. But the next stage was to get her to take him out to the island of Kyros and at the moment he had no idea of how to tackle that. He nodded vacantly to the fretting clerk as he passed through the foyer and stepped out into the street. Still thinking he turned towards his Renault.
If he had not been thoroughly trained to keep his eyes open and one part of his mind constantly alert he would not have noticed that the rear door of his car was not properly closed. But the wartime years had sharpened his senses, and the later years of working for Smith had polished them to a fine edge. The door was barely a quarter of an inch from being fully shut, but even while deep in thought the fact registered in his mind. He knew that the door had been shut when he left the car.
He paused to carefully straighten the collar of his shirt outside his jacket, and he thought fast. He could take the initiative, but the part he was playing did not yet call for any revelation of his more deadlier talents. To Carla he had to appear as the harmless but capable lover, and until he was sure what game was being played and which characters supported which side it was best that everybody else received the same impression. He knew he had to play it dumb.
He finished straightening his collar and without any further hesitation he continued towards the Renault and climbed in behind the wheel. He heard the very faintest of movements from the seat behind him but he showed no sign.
He started the car and turned out into the street. At this hour there was no traffic and he put his foot down confidently. There was another movement behind him and it took an effort to remain natural and not turn his head. Then slowly a large, masculine hand entered his range of vision, appearing from over his shoulder and deliberately holding a vicious-looking automatic just before his eyes.
It was a stupid move. The gun should have been pressing into the back of Larren’s neck and not presented where he could see it with the snout angled away from him. Larren could have grabbed the wrist then and quite safely forced it away. But he didn’t. He gave the start of alarm that was obviously expected of him and allowed the Renault to swerve wildly a couple of times before pretending to regain control.
A satisfied voice behind him said something very softly in Greek.
Larren said nervously, “I don’t speak Greek. But if it’s money you want I’ll pay.”
There was a pause and then the automatic was withdrawn.
“So you’re English.” The voice had an American twang now. “Well I just want to talk to you, friend. So simply follow the road signs to Korinthos and the new national road until I give some more directions.”
“But I don’t understand. Why—”
“Just do as you’re told.”
The snout of the gun jabbed Larren in a more orthodox fashion and he did as he was told. The only words the man behind him spoke after that were directions on how to get out of Athens until they struck the fast new road that led to Korinthos some fifty miles away.
Larren was pretty certain that his uninvited passenger was the driver of the Chevrolet that had paid so much attention to Carla Valedri, and he wondered exactly what the man wanted. He had puzzled over that all night, and now it looked as though he was about to find out.
Soon they were driving parallel to the sea again, only now they were heading north instead of south. Several brightly lit freighters lay at anchor in the bay and beyond them lay the black outline of the island of Salamis. The road was fast with a smooth tarmac surface, and a string of bright neon signs advertising camping sites lay between them and the sea.
They reached the road signs for Elfesis and Thebes and here Larren was ordered to turn inland. Olive groves flanked either side of the road now, their gnarled trunks springing up into the headlights like the withered ranks of a separated army. The road was rougher but another order allowed Larren to slow down. A third command forced him to turn up a pitted track of red earth and twisted roots that seemed to lead to nowhere beneath the scraping branches of the olives. Then he was told to stop.
Larren switched off the engine, but he left the headlights still picking out the silver green of the olive branches, the weirdly contorted shapes of the tree trunks, and the bare, harsh earth between. Slowly he turned to take his first look at the man who had forced him out here.
The stranger was sitting well back in the rear seat, his face hidden by shadows and darkness but the gun still prominent in his hand. Larren couldn’t pick out his features but he knew from the bull neck and the broad shoulders that he had not been wrong in believing that he was the driver of the Chevrolet.
The stranger smiled at him. “What’s your interest in Carla Valedri?” he demanded.
Larren said vaguely, “Well she’s — she’s — she’s a nice girl.” He pretended blustering anger and added, “What does it matter to you anyway? Who are you? What do you want?”
“I want to do you a favour, friend. I want to tell you that Carla isn’t a nice girl after all. You’d do much better to leave her alone. After all, if you must have a dirty night out now and again you can pick up another partner in any of the nightclubs off Syntagma Square.”
Larren said snappily, “I think I’m the best judge of that.”
The man from the Chevrolet shook his head sadly. “You just don’t seem to understand, friend. Perhaps we’d better get out of the car and I’ll make the position clear.”
Larren hesitated and allowed him to make a threatening gesture with the automatic before slowly opening the car door and climbing out.
The other man followed him and for a moment they faced each other beside the car. The olive grove made soft rustling noises around them, but apart from that the night was still. The man from the Chevrolet was almost as tall as Larren but his massive shoulders made him much heavier. He smiled confidently and put the automatic into his pocket.
“The fact is,” he confided amiably, “that I am employed by Carla’s daddy. And he doesn’t want anybody interfering with Carla until a certain business proposition he’s handling is safely over. So, my job is to look after her. And you are getting in the way of my job.”
