Read Online Fear is the Key by Alistair MacLean - Free Book Online Page A

beating someone over thehead with a gun.
    â€˜You recognized me in the parking-lot?’ I asked.
    â€˜No.’ He broke open the Colt with his left hand,
    ejected the remaining shell, closed the gun andwith a careless flick of his wrist sent it spinningten feet to land smack in the waste-paper basket.He looked as if he could do this sort of thing tentimes out of ten, everything this man tried wouldalways come off: if he was as good as this with hisleft hand, what could he do with his right? ‘I’dnever seen you before this afternoon, I’d nevereven heard of you when first I saw you in thelot,’ he continued. ‘But I’d seen and heard of thisyoung lady here a hundred times. You’re a Limey,or you’d have heard of her too. Maybe you have,but don’t know who you got there, you wouldn’tbe the first person to be fooled by her. No make-up,no accent, hair in kid’s plaits. And you only lookand behave like that either if you’ve given up competing– or there’s no one left to compete against.’He looked at the girl and smiled again. ‘For MaryBlair Ruthven there’s no competition left. Whenyou’re as socially acceptable as she is, and yourold man is who he is, then you can dispense withyour Bryn Mawr accent and the Antonio hairdo.That’s for those who need them.’
    â€˜And her old man?’
    â€˜Such ignorance. Blair Ruthven. General BlairRuthven. You’ve heard of the Four Hundred –well, he’s the guy that keeps the register. You’veheard of the Mayflower – it was old Ruthven’sancestors who gave the Pilgrims permission toland. And, excepting maybe Paul Getty, he’s therichest oil man in the United States.’
    I made no comment, there didn’t seem to be anythat would meet the case. I wondered what he’dsay if I told him of my pipe-dream of slippers, afire and a multimillion heiress. Instead I said: ‘Andyou had your radio switched on in the parking-lot.I hear it. And then a news flash.’
    â€˜That’s it,’ he agreed cheerfully.
    â€˜Who are you?’ It was Mary Blair speaking forthe first time since he’d entered and that was whatbeing in the top 1 per cent of the Four Hundreddid for you. You didn’t swoon, you didn’t murmur‘Thank God’ in a broken voice, you didn’t burstinto tears and fling your arms round your rescuer’sneck, you just gave him a nice friendly smile whichshowed he was your equal even if you know quitewell he wasn’t and said: ‘Who are you?’
    â€˜Jablonsky, miss. Herman Jablonsky.’
    â€˜I suppose you came over in the Mayflower too,’I said sourly. I looked consideringly at the girl.‘Millions and millions of dollars, eh? That’s a lotof money to be walking around. Anyway, thatexplains away Valentino.’
    â€˜Valentino?’ You could see she still thought Iwas crazy.
    â€˜The broken-faced gorilla behind you in thecourt-room. If your old man shows as much judgementin picking oil wells as he does in pickingbodyguards, you’re going to be on relief prettysoon.’
    â€˜He’s not my usual––’ She bit her lip, and somethinglike a shadow of pain touched those cleargrey eyes. ‘Mr Jablonsky, I owe you a great deal.’
    Jablonsky smiled again and said nothing. Hefished out a pack of cigarettes, tapped the bottom,extracted one with his teeth, bent back acardboard match in a paper folder, then threwcigarettes and matches across to me. That’s howthe high-class boys operated today. Civilized, courteous,observing all the little niceties, they’d havemade the hoodlums of the thirties feel slightlyill. Which made a man like Jablonsky all themore dangerous: like an iceberg, seven-eighthsof his lethal menace was out of sight. The old-time hoodlums couldn’t even have begun to copewith him.
    â€˜I take it you are prepared to use that gun,’ MaryBlair went on.