Free 1963 - One Bright Summer Morning by James Hadley Chase

nodded.
    Kramer looked over at Moe.
    “You'll drive them to Wastelands. You've seen the map and you know where it is. You should get there around midday. Okay?”
    “Yeah,” Moe said.
    Chita asked, “Wastelands? What's that?”
    Kramer ignored her. He was now looking at Riff.
    “Now you get your ears open and listen carefully. This is going to be your end of it. The trick in this is to find a place to hide the girl where no one will think to look for her and also find someone who will arrange about the ransom. None of us is going to contact the father. I've found a fella to do the job. You two ever heard of Victor Dermott?”
    Chita said, “There's a guy of that name who writes plays. You don't mean him, do you?”
    “That's him,” Kramer said. “He has a big reputation: he's known. People think a lot of him. I've picked him to talk to the father. He'll convince him to pay up and to keep the cops off our necks.”
    “Why the hell should he?” Riff demanded, scowling.
    “Because he happens to have a nice-looking wife and a baby,” Kramer said, smiling evilly. “You, Moe, the girl and you,” he glanced at Chita, “will be in his house. Your job is to put such a scare into this fella he'll do what he is told.”
    Kramer regarded Riff's blistered and scarred face. Okay this slob was tricky, but Moe had picked the right one. If he couldn't throw a scare into a man with a wife and baby, then no one could.
    “I don't get it,” Riff said. “How does this guy come into it?”
    “He's writing a play,” Kramer explained. “I happen to know the fellow who has rented him a ranch house. I've seen the place. I went there a couple of years ago. It's the most awful, lonely, Godforsaken spot you can imagine, but just the place for a guy who wants some peace and quiet to write a play. He's out there now with his wife, baby, a Vietnamese servant and an Alsatian dog.” Kramer paused to stub out his cigar, then he pointed a thick finger at Riff. “Your first job is to fix the dog and the servant, then throw a hell of a scare into the Dermotts. Get it?”
    “I can fix the dog,” Riff said, looking searchingly at Kramer, “but how do you mean . . . fix the servant?”
    “These Vietnamese can be tricky. You'll have all you want to do watching the Dermotts,” Kramer said. “Keep the servant locked up in his quarters. He could make a bolt for it and make trouble.”
    Riff glanced at Chita who stared back at him with blank eyes. Impatiently, he shrugged.
    “You'll put the telephone out of order and immobilize the cars,” Kramer went on. “They have shotguns. Get them and put them out of the way. Make sure there are no other guns in the house. Then stick around until Moe arrives. You'll get down there around midnight the day before the snatch.”
    Riff got to his feet and crossed the room to the window. He looked through the curtains without touching them.
    “What do we do about that jerk down there?” he asked.
    “Not a thing. You two go down to the bar and buy yourselves a drink. Stick around for half an hour and then leave. That guy down there doesn't know you, but watch out you're not tailed. The chances are you won't be, but watch out. Moe leaves now. They know him and they'll tail him, but Moe's been tailed before. I'm checking out after lunch. They'll tail me.” He showed his big, yellow teeth in a grin. “And I've been tailed before.” He levered his bulk out of his chair and went over to a briefcase. From it he took a thick envelope which he tossed to Riff. “There's all the dope for you both. Maps, times and the whole setup. When you've got the stuff into your heads, burn it. We make the snatch next Friday. In the meantime, Moe will drop out of sight. On the day before the snatch, you will be at Twin Creek Tavern at five o'clock. Moe will be there. He'll give you final instructions and check to see you both know what you're to do. Got all that?”
    Riff, who had been listening intently, nodded.
    “How