Free Jack Higgins by East of Desolation Page B

he had me by the throat with a strength I never knew he possessed and there was a fire in his eyes like hot coals as I started to choke.
    â€œNot a thing—not a solitary damned thing. She treated me like a son. She was a lady, do you hear me? The last time I heard a man say a wrong word about her I broke his jaw.”
    He released me suddenly and I sucked in air. “I get the message. Sarah Kelso’s the first lady you’ve met since?”
    â€œShe’s got quality, that’s for sure and it’s a scarce commodity in the world we live in.” He emptied his glass and shook his head. “What’s it all about, Joe? Life, living, the whole bit. Ever ask yourself?”
    â€œAt a rough average I’d say around twenty-seven times a day.”
    â€œYou can always see the funny side,” he said, “I wish to hell I could.” He stared sombrely into space. “I’ve been living on Stage 6 at Horizon Studios for so long that nothing seems real any more.”
    â€œExcept Sarah Kelso?”
    There was a cutting edge to my voice that I was unable to conceal and he was immediately aware of it and frowned. “What do you mean?”
    â€œAnd the good Mr. Hans Vogel and his associate—the claims surveyor who can afford to wear eighty-guinea Savile Row suits. Salary scales in insurance offices musthave risen considerably since I worked in the City.”
    â€œWhat are you getting at?” he demanded.
    â€œI can smell fish as well as the next man and in this case you don’t need to stand too close.” He stared at me blankly. “It’s shot full of holes, Jack, the whole tale. There are so many loose ends I wouldn’t know where to start.”
    â€œAre you trying to tell me that Vogel’s some kind of crook?”
    Is anything ever that simple? I shook my head. “Maybe you’re right, Jack. Perhaps you’ve been acting one part after another for so long that you’ve lost all touch with reality. Do you think the villain of the piece always has to look like Sidney Greenstreet or his bully boy like Bogart or Cagney?”
    â€œStratton?” he said incredulously. “You’re trying to tell me that two-by-four is some kind of tough guy?”
    â€œAt a rough guess I’d say he’d slice your throat for a packet of cigarettes in the right circumstances.”
    He stared up at me, eyes wide. “Brother, do you need a good night’s sleep.”
    â€œWhich is just what I intend to get,” I said sweetly and stood up. “See you around, Jack.” And I turned and pushed my way through the crowd to the hall.
    Â 
    I didn’t go to bed straight away, there was too much to think about. Outside the wind drove hail like lead bullets against the window and I lit a cigarette and lay on the bed with the radio playing.
    When I first heard the knock I thought I was mistaken, it was so gentle, but it came again, a little louder thistime and I crossed to the door and opened it.
    Sarah Kelso smiled diffidently. “Could you spare me a minute?”
    â€œMy pleasure.”
    As I closed the door she moved to the window and looked out into the darkness. “Is it always as rough as this?”
    I crossed to the bed and turned down the radio. “I don’t get the impression you came here to discuss the weather, Mrs. Kelso.”
    She turned, a wan smile on her face. “You’re very direct, aren’t you, Mr. Martin? In a way that makes it easier. You’re quite right, of course. I didn’t come here to discuss the weather. To tell you the truth I was hoping you might put me in touch with this pilot you mentioned—Arnie Fassberg I think you said his name was.”
    â€œYou mean tonight?” I shook my head. “I thought I made it clear that he was otherwise engaged.”
    â€œYes, I know,” she said, a touch of impatience in her voice. “He’s with some girl. Surely