Bill for the Use of a Body (28 page)

‘No,' said Julian for the third time. ‘That is not enough. I want you dead, or your dope racket broken up and you doing another long stretch in prison for that and for having kidnapped Merri. I've left a letter at my hotel that is to be given to the police at eleven o'clock should I fail to return. If you kill me they will know that it was no accident and you will be executed for it. I don't value my life, so I'm willing to give it in order to get you.'

Giving him a puzzled look, Hayashi said, ‘The girl has come to no harm, Mr. Day, and I have ample proof that her mother was a murderess; so I do not understand this intense bitterness you show towards me.'

A grim smile twitched Julian's lips. ‘You wouldn't; because you failed to recognise me. My real name is Fernhurst. It was you, O'Kieff and the rest of your devilish gang who ruined my career years ago in Brussels, and caused my friend Carruthers to commit suicide. That's why I am determined to make you pay.'

Hayashi's cruel mouth fell open. At that moment Julian sprang. His right arm was almost useless, but with his left hand he grasped Hayashi's hand that held the gun, forcing it upwards. For half a minute they swayed backwards and forwards in a violent struggle for the weapon. It went off and a bullet smacked into the ceiling. The crack of the pistol was followed almost instantly by two more shots. Hayashi had advanced far enough towards the door for the wicker basket to be behind him. With her last reserve of strength, Tilly Sang had risen up in it again and put two shots through his back. With a long loud groan he sank to the floor dead.

The Madame and the porter arrived on the scene again, followed by the proprietor of the establishment. The police were sent for and depositions taken. Forty minutes later the whole party piled into cars and drove to Hayashi's house. The place was a shambles. Many of the fine statues had been thrown down, the priceless vases
smashed and the beautiful paintings in silk ripped to pieces. Nagi, it transpired, had earlier been sent to hospital with a nasty wound that would keep him there for some weeks. The male staff of the household had all been badly beaten up. The head ‘boy', his face sadly battered, told the police that soon after nine o'clock a band of hooligans had broken in and wrecked the place.

Julian and Urata searched the house from attic to cellar, and all the outhouses, for Merri; but no trace of her could be found. At half past eleven Julian returned to the Miyako. Any satisfaction he felt at Hayashi's death was more than discounted by the fact that Merri was still missing and there was now no clue to her whereabouts. But when he got to his room the telephone was ringing. Picking up the receiver, he heard Urata's voice:

‘Mr. Day, I have good news for you. I am most angry with Bill, but my heart finds it impossible not to forgive. He is desperate for this Merri. Knowing that Hayashi would be taking the dinner with us tonight he came back from Osaka. Here he collect many old school friends. They have many drinks, then with him they invade house. They not find Merri there, but with woman who guard her in small pavilion on lake. She iss now very happy and safe here with us.'

‘Thanks. Please give her my love,' Julian replied tonelessly, and replaced the receiver.

So Bill had beaten him to it, and Merri had all the time been in that little pavilion at the end of the lake, near which he had stood for close on five minutes mistakenly fearful that a stone lantern was a night watchman. Had he only known during those minutes, he could have gone in and got her. But fate had been unkind to him.

As he turned away from the telephone he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the dressing table. He saw a face that looked every day of fifty. The strain of the past fortnight had aged him a lot. The hair at his temples that had been grey was now white, and his face was
deeply lined. What, he wondered sadly, had he really got to offer Merri, except a certain amount of money and a knowledge of the world that could not really weigh very much against other assets that a girl not yet twenty would consider far more desirable?

Next day he lunched at the Uratas' house. After the meal he went out with Merri alone into the garden. She could not have been sweeter as she laid her hand on his, and said softly:

‘I do hope you won't feel too badly about things, Julian. It's not that it was Bill who actually got me out of that awful man's clutches. I've been told all you did and I'm terribly grateful. But while I was a prisoner I had a lot of time to think, and I knew then that it was Bill that I loved. Mr. Urata is being terribly kind, and now poor Mother is dead there is no longer a bar to my marrying a Japanese.'

Julian nodded. ‘I understand, and I hope you and Bill will be tremendously happy.'

‘We will,' she replied confidently. ‘But I'm worried about you. Couldn't you possibly bring yourself to go back to England and take up your inheritance? You've paid for your youthful folly a thousand times over, and I'm sure that even those few people who haven't forgotten about that will now be ready to accept your word that you were not really to blame.'

He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps you're right, Merri. Anyhow, I'll think it over.'

1
See
The Quest of Julian Day
.

2
See
The Sword of Fate
.

DENNIS WHEATLEY

Dennis Wheatley (1897 – 1977) was an English author whose prolific output of stylish thrillers and occult novels made him one of the world's best-selling writers from the 1930s through the 1960s.

Wheatley was the eldest of three children, and his parents were the owners of Wheatley & Son of Mayfair, a wine business. He admitted to little aptitude for schooling, and was expelled from Dulwich College, London. In 1919 he assumed management of the family wine business but in 1931, after a decline in business due to the depression, he began writing.

His first book,
The Forbidden Territory
, became a bestseller overnight, and since then his books have sold over 50 million copies worldwide. During the 1960s, his publishers sold one million copies of Wheatley titles per year, and his Gregory Sallust series was one of the main inspirations for Ian Fleming's James Bond stories.

During the Second World War, Wheatley was a member of the London Controlling Section, which secretly coordinated strategic military deception and cover plans. His literary talents gained him employment with planning staffs for the War Office. He wrote numerous papers for the War Office, including suggestions for dealing with a German invasion of Britain.

Dennis Wheatley died on 11th November 1977. During his life he wrote over 70 books and sold over 50 million copies.

Discover books by Dennis Wheatley published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/DennisWheatley

Duke de Richleau
The Forbidden Territory
The Devil Rides Out
The Golden Spaniard
Three Inquisitive People
Strange Conflict
Codeword Golden Fleece
The Second Seal
The Prisoner in the Mask
Vendetta in Spain
Dangerous Inheritance
Gateway to Hell

Gregory Sallust
Black August
Contraband
The Scarlet Impostor
Faked Passports
The Black Baroness
V for Vengeance
Come into My Parlour
The Island Where Time Stands Still
Traitors' Gate
They Used Dark Forces
The White Witch of the South Seas

Julian Day
The Quest of Julian Day
The Sword of Fate
Bill for the Use of a Body

Roger Brook
The Launching of Roger Brook
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree
The Rising Storm
The Man Who Killed the King
The Dark Secret of Josephine
The Rape of Venice
The Sultan's Daughter
The Wanton Princess
Evil in a Mask
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware
The Irish Witch
Desperate Measures

Molly Fountain
To the Devil a Daughter
The Satanist

Lost World
They Found Atlantis
Uncharted Seas
The Man Who Missed the War

Espionage
Mayhem in Greece
The Eunuch of Stamboul
The Fabulous Valley
The Strange Story of Linda Lee
Such Power is Dangerous
The Secret War

Science Fiction
Sixty Days to Live
Star of Ill-Omen

Black Magic
The Haunting of Toby Jugg
The KA of Gifford Hillary
Unholy Crusade

Short Stories
Mediterranean Nights
Gunmen, Gallants and Ghosts

This electronic edition published in 2014 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP

First published in 1964 by Hutchinson & Co. Ltd.

Copyright © 1964 Dennis Wheatley

All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise
make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
(including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,
printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the
publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The moral right of the author is asserted.

eISBN: 9781448212705

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