1977 - I Hold the Four Aces by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

quick to smell a con. I would say she is mentally as brilliant as the best, and that is saying a lot. Her weakness, of course, is sex, but I believe that sex would take second place if she suspected she was being taken for a ride.”
    “That remains to be seen,” Grenville said. “I am glad to have the information, but I still think we can drop Patterson - not immediately, of course - and make a killing with Helga. This now depends on you, Jack. Surely, with your brains, you can think up some scheme where we can pick up a couple of million off her. I assure you I’ll handle Helga, providing you can think of a bright idea.”
    Archer half-closed his eyes while he thought. Helga had bested him in the last battle and had treated him abominably. It would be nice to get his revenge, but how?
    “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.
    “That’s what I am suggesting. We have ten days. We can still get this horrible little man to finance us. We can encourage him to think all is going well, then we drop him. So think about it.”
    “Again I must warn you, Chris, not to take Helga lightly,” Archer said. “She can be very tricky.”
    Grenville gave his musical laugh.
    “If you had seen the way she looked at me this afternoon, you wouldn’t worry. She is ripe for picking.”
    Back in his sleazy hotel bedroom, Archer stretched out on his bed. His active, shrewd mind remained busy for the next two hours, but no plan to get two million dollars from Helga presented itself.
    Frustrated, and now tired, he turned on his small radio for the 23.00 news. The big story was the holding of five hostages at Orly airport with a ransom demand of ten million francs.
    Impatiently, Archer snapped off the radio, then getting off the bed, he began to undress. Then suddenly, half-way out of his shirt, he paused and looked at the radio, standing on the bedside table.
    Was this the germ of an idea? he asked himself.
    He scarcely slept that night.
     
    * * *
     
    Relais de Flore is a tiny restaurant in a back street near the Fontainebleau palais. Helga and Grenville were welcomed by the proprietress, Madame Tonnelle, who led them into the small restaurant with only fifteen tables.
    As Helga settled in her chair, Grenville said, “I have already ordered. I want you to experience one of the great dishes of France: chicken Oliver. It is quite remarkable, and Madame Tonnelle has learned to cook it. I suggest we have a fond d'artichaut in vinaigrette while we wait.”
    Helga, looking splendid in an apricot-coloured trouser suit, smiled at him.
    “You seem to know so much about Paris, Chris. This place is just what I like. I get so bored with the deluxe restaurants.”
    She was thinking: I’ve never met such an intriguing man! He must be marvellous in bed! He could be marvellous as a husband!
    “I get around,” Grenville said, shrugging. “I would love to take you to restaurants in Vienna, in Prague, in Moscow. Now let me tell you about the chicken Oliver. First, Oliver is one of the great creators of dishes in France. The preparation of the chicken is too complicated to go into now. The ingredients are many: six yolks of egg, thick cream, butter, cognac, tarragon, shallots, celery hearts and so on. The exciting thing is that finally a lobster sauce is poured over the chicken.”
    “It sounds out of this world,” Helga said, impressed.
    “It is exceptional.” Grenville smiled at her. “For an exceptionally beautiful woman.”
    Again Helga warmed to him.
    While they were eating the fond d’artichaut, she said, “Chris, tell me what do you do for a living?”
    Grenville had had a call from Archer that morning who had asked him to meet him at a bistro off Rue de Sevres.
    Archer had said, “I have a germ of an idea, but I need to work on it. Now, here is what you do,” and he went on to explain in detail how Grenville should handle Helga. Grenville, listening intently, kept nodding.
    “Take her out tonight and leave her at the hotel.