standing over me.
Because of the mask she couldn’t see how frightened I was.
Brandy? I needed it!
‘Yes, thank you.’
She put a big snifter half full of brandy on the table in front of me.
‘If you would like to have a nap, sir,’ she said, ‘Your room’s all ready. We have five hours before landing.’
‘I’ll do that,’ I said, and got to my feet.
The mask was now becoming unbearable. I had to take it off.
She picked up the snifter and walked past Durant’s desk towards a door.
‘Taking a nap, Joe,’ I said huskily as Durant looked up.
I saw Mazzo start to his feet, but Durant shook his head. Mazzo sat down again.
I followed the girl into a cabin with a bed and a fitted closet. There was a bathroom leading off the little room.
She put the snifter on the night table and smiled at me.
‘Is there anything else, Mr. Ferguson? I’m not busy for the next couple of hours,’ and she arched her eyebrows invitingly.
If I hadn’t been so scared and longing to take off the mask, I would have been tempted.
‘Nothing now, thank you.’
‘Call me Phoebe, Mr. Ferguson. I’m entirely at your service,’ and after hesitating, she smiled again and left the cabin, shutting the door.
I slid the bolt home, then went into the bathroom and carefully removed the mask. Laying it down, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Did I look a wreck! This was Jerry Stevens, a washed-up, bit-part actor scared witless, white faced, sweat beads, a mouth that twitched. Very far from the last time I had seen myself in a mirror: the confident, powerful John Merrill Ferguson who I had asked myself what he had got that I hadn’t got.
I washed my face and hands, then returned to the cabin. I drank nearly all the brandy, then sat on the bed, trying to steady my shaking hands. I finished the brandy and set down the glass before I dropped it. After a few minutes, the brandy began to bite and my heart beat began to return to normal. I lit a cigarette.
I thought about Charles Duvine. Maybe two thugs or even Mazzo had been waiting on the penthouse terrace: a prick of a needle and away into space.
I shuddered.
This could happen to you. This will happen to you when Durant has no further use of you. Well, at least, you know what to expect.
Durant said I was to impersonate Ferguson for a month, possibly longer. That must mean I was safe for at least thirty days, and during those thirty days, I had to find a way out of this nightmare.
I began to get over my scare.
Thirty days!
A lot could happen in thirty days. I was forewarned.
There must come a moment when I could escape. I would go to the police. They would give me protection. I had ample proof. I’d show them the mask. I would get them to check the Chase National Bank that all this money had been paid to me. I would get Lu Prentz to tell them that Durant had hired me.
I began to relax. Maybe the two big brandies now gave me confidence.
Then I heard a slight sound that set my heart thumping again. Looking at the door of the cabin, I saw the door handle turn, but the bolt stopped the door opening.
I began to sweat again.
‘You okay, Mr. Ferguson?’ Mazzo whispered through the door panel.
The brandy made me exclaim, ‘Piss off! I’m trying to sleep.’
‘Okay, Mr. Ferguson.’
I sat like a stone man, watching the door handle. It moved up and down for a moment or two, then came to rest.
Sitting there on the bed, staring at the door, I understood the feelings of a trapped rabbit.
* * *
I was awakened by a gentle tapping on the door.
‘Mr. Ferguson, please. We will be landing in one hour.’
‘Thank you,’ I said and looked at my watch. The time was 23.30.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. I did remember lying on the bed while I wrestled with my fears. The brandy must have had a lot of authority.
I stripped off, showered and shaved, regarding my pale face in the mirror. Then I spent time putting on the mask, the eyebrows and the
Because of the mask she couldn’t see how frightened I was.
Brandy? I needed it!
‘Yes, thank you.’
She put a big snifter half full of brandy on the table in front of me.
‘If you would like to have a nap, sir,’ she said, ‘Your room’s all ready. We have five hours before landing.’
‘I’ll do that,’ I said, and got to my feet.
The mask was now becoming unbearable. I had to take it off.
She picked up the snifter and walked past Durant’s desk towards a door.
‘Taking a nap, Joe,’ I said huskily as Durant looked up.
I saw Mazzo start to his feet, but Durant shook his head. Mazzo sat down again.
I followed the girl into a cabin with a bed and a fitted closet. There was a bathroom leading off the little room.
She put the snifter on the night table and smiled at me.
‘Is there anything else, Mr. Ferguson? I’m not busy for the next couple of hours,’ and she arched her eyebrows invitingly.
If I hadn’t been so scared and longing to take off the mask, I would have been tempted.
‘Nothing now, thank you.’
‘Call me Phoebe, Mr. Ferguson. I’m entirely at your service,’ and after hesitating, she smiled again and left the cabin, shutting the door.
I slid the bolt home, then went into the bathroom and carefully removed the mask. Laying it down, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Did I look a wreck! This was Jerry Stevens, a washed-up, bit-part actor scared witless, white faced, sweat beads, a mouth that twitched. Very far from the last time I had seen myself in a mirror: the confident, powerful John Merrill Ferguson who I had asked myself what he had got that I hadn’t got.
I washed my face and hands, then returned to the cabin. I drank nearly all the brandy, then sat on the bed, trying to steady my shaking hands. I finished the brandy and set down the glass before I dropped it. After a few minutes, the brandy began to bite and my heart beat began to return to normal. I lit a cigarette.
I thought about Charles Duvine. Maybe two thugs or even Mazzo had been waiting on the penthouse terrace: a prick of a needle and away into space.
I shuddered.
This could happen to you. This will happen to you when Durant has no further use of you. Well, at least, you know what to expect.
Durant said I was to impersonate Ferguson for a month, possibly longer. That must mean I was safe for at least thirty days, and during those thirty days, I had to find a way out of this nightmare.
I began to get over my scare.
Thirty days!
A lot could happen in thirty days. I was forewarned.
There must come a moment when I could escape. I would go to the police. They would give me protection. I had ample proof. I’d show them the mask. I would get them to check the Chase National Bank that all this money had been paid to me. I would get Lu Prentz to tell them that Durant had hired me.
I began to relax. Maybe the two big brandies now gave me confidence.
Then I heard a slight sound that set my heart thumping again. Looking at the door of the cabin, I saw the door handle turn, but the bolt stopped the door opening.
I began to sweat again.
‘You okay, Mr. Ferguson?’ Mazzo whispered through the door panel.
The brandy made me exclaim, ‘Piss off! I’m trying to sleep.’
‘Okay, Mr. Ferguson.’
I sat like a stone man, watching the door handle. It moved up and down for a moment or two, then came to rest.
Sitting there on the bed, staring at the door, I understood the feelings of a trapped rabbit.
* * *
I was awakened by a gentle tapping on the door.
‘Mr. Ferguson, please. We will be landing in one hour.’
‘Thank you,’ I said and looked at my watch. The time was 23.30.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. I did remember lying on the bed while I wrestled with my fears. The brandy must have had a lot of authority.
I stripped off, showered and shaved, regarding my pale face in the mirror. Then I spent time putting on the mask, the eyebrows and the
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