Floodgate (23 page)

'Pardon, sir?'
'You could be right or you could be wrong. Damage both ways. If you're right the Annecys' hands have been greatly strengthened and David Meijer's pocket almost certainly lightened, or will be in the very near future. If you're wrong, you're putting your head in that charming hangman's noose that the Annecy brothers put on their postcards. If you're wrong she'd have talked of" many things, principally that Stephan Danilov is Peter van Effen. I can't take the chance that you're not wrong. My orders are that you are not to go through with this.' George said: 'Normally, Colonel, I wouldn't dream of not complying with your wishes. But these aren't normal circumstances. By refusing your request, I'm not stepping outside the law nor am I making the point that I'm no longer a policeman. I'm just going my own way.' De Graaf nodded. 'I can't stop you. But I can
'You can force him to go his own way, too,'George said. 'By resigning. You'd never forgive yourself, Colonel.'
De Graaf scowled, refilled his glass, sank into an armchair and gazed into the fire. Van Effen nodded to Vasco and the three men left the room.
Van Effen and George returned to the Trianon to find that the usual watch-dog was not in his usual place. But there was another and, if possible, even more insignificant character seated some distance from the desk and sipping beer instead of jonge jenever. Van Effen had no doubt that this was a replacement from the same stable. The manager called to them as they passed the desk.
'This message has just come for you, Mr Danilov.' He handed van Effen a slip of paper which read: 'May I see you in your room? Two minutes.' 'Yes, of course. Thank you. 'van Effen folded the paper into his pocket and led George to the lift. The promised two minutes later the manager arrived in van Effen's room. He closed the door behind him, looked doubtfully at George and seemed to hesitate.
'No problem,' van Effen said. 'My friend here is on the side of the angels. George, Charles. The manager. Charles, George. George is police.' 'Ah. A word of warning, Lieutenant. I wouldn't use the back entrance tonight - somebody, a stranger to anyone round here -has taken up more or less permanent residence by the back door. He's in an old DAF. And you will have noticed that your old looker-after in the lobby has been replaced by an even more obvious one. There's another man who has just started a meal in the dining-room. He's seated conveniently by the door so that he can see anyone who crosses the lobby. He knows the new shadow. No words exchanged, just a brief look and an even briefer nod. No risk in that, they must have thought - they have no reason to suspect my interest in them. That's why I waited two minutes, to see if either of them made a move. No disappointment - our dining-room friend was at the public phone almost before the lift doors closed behind you. I waited until he finished his call to whatever person he was reporting your arrival. I was watching them from the mirror as the diner left the booth. Brief nod again, no words.'
'When you go bankrupt, Charles, apply to me any time. I'll watch the bogeymen.' The manager left.
'So,' George said. 'We can expect that phone call any minute now. The man in 'the restaurant has tipped off Agnelli that Stephan Danilov has returned accompanied by George, the explosives expert and illegal arms supplier. One wonders what lions' den or nest of cobras they've chosen for the rendezvous.'
'I don't wonder. There are no lions or cobras in ROOM 203, which is where we are. Charles tells us that Agnelli - it can only be Agnelli - has two other faithful but not very bright henchmen lurking around the place. Why? Surely it only required one stake-out, the one in the lobby, to advise him of our arrival. The other two are guards, parts of his insurance policy - don't forget Agnelli has no reason to think that we know of their presence. There may even be others that Charles knows nothing about. This is the last place that we would think would be chosen as a meeting point - or so Agnelli must imagine - and so we wouldn't think of arranging a reception committee here. And when he does call, you can be sure that he will announce that he will be here in a matter of minutes so that we can't have the time to arrange one.'
Van Effen was right on both points. Agnelli called in person ta say that they would meet at the Trianon and that he and his friends would be there in under five minutes.
'He's bringing friends, plural,' van Effen -said after he had hung up. 'I don't think Romero Agnelli trusts anyone.'
From the cordial, guileless expression Agnelli wore on his arrival, one could see that van Effen was wrong; here, patently, was a man one could trust anywhere. Agnelli had brought three men along with him. His brother Leonardo, looking, if that were possible, an even more genial member of the Mafioso than he had done the last time, and two others whom van Effen had never seen before. One of them, a burly, slightly florid, pleasant-featured character of indeterminate age - somewhere between forty and fifty, van Effen would have guessed, but it was difficult to be sure - was introduced as Liam O'Brien: from his accent, no less than from his name, he had to be Irish. The other, a handsome young man, dark and slightly swarthy, was introduced as Heinrich Daniken: he could have been of any nationality. Agnelli did not see fit to disclose what the function of either man was.
Introductions over, refreshments proffered and accepted, Agnelli said to George: 'Do I call you George or do you have another name?' 'Just George.' He smiled. 'I'm an anonymous person.' Agnelli surveyed the vast bulk before him. 'You, George, are the least anonymous-looking person I've ever seen. Don't you find it rather a drawback in your profession? Whatever that may be, of course.' 'Drawback? It's a positive advantage. I'm a peace-loving who abhors violence but when you're as big as I am no one ever offers it to you.' George, van Effen thought admiringly, was as consummate and convincing a liar as he'd ever known. 'And, of course, everybody, or nearly everybody - I think particularly of those who are sworn to uphold the law - think that everyone who is as big, fat, cheerful and harmless as I am, must be able to get by very well without being able to think. It's a kind of law of nature. Well, I'm no Einstein, but I'm not yet ready to be locked away in;in institution for the retarded. But we haven't met here to discuss personalities, Mr Agnelli, have we? Five questions. What do you want? How much or how many? When? Where? Price?'
The slipping of Agnelli's good-humoured smile was so momentary that only the most alert or observant would have noticed it and even then it could have been as much imagined as seen. 'You do get to the point rather quickly, don't you, George? No time for the little business niceties, I see. Well, that's the way I prefer it myself. Like you, I have no time for beating about the bush: like you, I regard myself as a business man.' He produced a paper from an inside pocket. 'Here's my shopping list. Fairly comprehensive, is it not?'
George studied it briefly. 'Fairly. Well within my limited capacities, I should think. Most of the items are straight-forward, especially the explosives. The ground-to-ground wire-guided missiles - these will be anti-tank missiles, although you don't say so - and the sAm ground-to-air missiles are also easily come by, as are the plastic mines, grenades and smoke-bombs.' He paused, sipped some brandy and frowned. 'Something here I don't quite understand, don't even like. I'm not talking about the fact that you seem to be preparing to wage a united war, even although only a defensive one: that's none of my business.' He handed the list over to van Effen. 'Comment?'
Van Effen studied it for no longer a time than it had taken George then returned the list. 'Specifications.'
'Exactly. 'George, not smiling, looked at the four men in turn then concentrated his gaze on Agnelli. 'This is a lethal enough list as it is. But it could be dangerous in other ways, even suicidal, if it got. into the hands of whoever prepared this list.'
Agnelli wasn't smiling either. He looked more than slightly uncomfortable. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'
'Then I'd better enlighten you. Specifications, as my friend Stephan has said. Explosives - no specifications. Missiles, ditto - and that applies to both types. What kind of primers? What kind of detonators? Fuses - you don't even say whether wire or chemical, how slow-burning or fast-acting. No explosives expert ever composed this list. Some amateur did, some bungling incompetent. Who?'
Agnelli studied his glass for some time then said: 'I'm the incompetent. But I did get some bungling help from my three associates here.' 'God help us all,' van Effen said. 'You're not fit to be let loose with a box of kiddies' fireworks. I have to ask you, not for the first time, where the hell are your experts?'
Agnelli smiled ruefully and spread out his hands. 'I'll be perfectly frank with you.' Romero Agnelli, van Effen realized, was about to lie in his teeth. 'We are temporarily embarrassed. The two men on whom we rely have been called away for other duties and won't be back for a couple of days. But we thought -well, you gentlemen are both explosives experts and -' 'That's no problem,' George said. 'We know what to get and can give you simple instructions on how to use them without blowing your silly heads off. The missiles are a different matter. Only a trained man can fire one of those.'
'How long does that take?'
'A week. Ten days.' George was vastly exaggerating, van Effen knew, but the four men's patent ignorance of all things military was so extensive that it was very likely a safe exaggeration. 'And don't ask us, we're no military men, we're no more skilled in those matters than you are.' Agnelli was silent for some time then said abruptly: 'Do you know of anyone who is. Skilled in such matters, I mean?'
'Do you mean what I think you mean?'
'Yes.'
'I do.' The way George said 'I do', in a tone just one degree short of impatience, made it clear that it was quite inevitable that he should know. 'Who?'
George gave him a look of pity. 'He hasn't got a name.' 'You must call him something.'
'The Lieutenant.'
'Why?'
'Because he is a lieutenant.'
'Cashiered, of course.'
'Certainly not. A cashiered lieutenant is no good to me. I thought you would appreciate that a person like myself can only operate at second or third hand. A middleman, if you like. Or two.'
'Ah! I see. Your supplier?'
'Mr Agnelli. You can't possibly be so naive as to expect -me to answer so naive a question. I'll see what can be done. Where do you want this stuff delivered?'
'That depends on how soon you can deliver it.'
'By noon tomorrow.'
'Good heavens!' Agnelli looked incredulous then smiled. 'It looks as if I've come to the right shop. How will it be delivered?' 'By Army truck, of course.'
'Of course.' Agnelli looked slightly dazed. 'This makes things a bit difficult. I thought it would be at least the day after tomorrow. Could I call up tomorrow to finalize time and place? And could you hold up delivery for at least a few hours?'
'That can be arranged.' George looked at van Effen. 'Mr Agnelli can call here? to a.m., say?' Van Effen nodded and
George smiled at Agnelli. 'Can't say yet, but somewhere between ten and twelve thousand dollars. We offer the best discount rates in Europe. Dollars, guilders or deutschmarks. More, of course, if our - ah - services are required.'
Agnelli stood up and smiled, his old relaxed and genial self again. 'Of course. The price, I must say, doesn't seem too exorbitant.' 'One thing,' van Effen said pleasantly. 'You are aware, aren't you, Mr Agnelli, that if I moved to another hotel and registered there under another name, that the chances of your ever finding either of us, again would be remote?'
'Remote? They wouldn't exist.' Agnelli was frowning. 'Why ever should you mention such a thing?'
'Well, a state of mutual trust does exist between us, doesn't it?' 'Naturally. 'The puzzlement still there.
'Well, if it does, call off the watchdogs in the lobby, in the dining-room and outside.'
'My watchdogs?' From the expression on Agnelli's face one could see that, far from being baffled, he was stalling for time.
'If you don't, we'll throw them into the canal - suitably trussed of course - and then move on.'
Agnelli looked at him, his face for once expressionless. 'You do play for keeps, don't you? I really believe you would.' He smiled and put out his hand. 'Shame. Very well, watchdogs retired. Shame. But they really weren't up to it.'
When they had gone, van Effen said to George: 'You really should have taken up a life of crime. Too late now. Anyway, you'd have given Colonel de Graaf apoplexy years ago. I'll bet Annelise has no idea quite how splendid a liar you are. You have Agnelli hooked, outfoxed, outgunned and demoralized, not to say dependent: at least, let's hope so. Will you talk to Vasco later this evening and tell him that you've got an offer of employment for him in the capacity of an army lieutenant -after, of course, he's made suitable alterations to his appearance? We mustn't forget that Agnelli has had the opportunity of studying Vasco at close range.'
'There'll be no problem.' George handed over Agnelli's shopping list. 'I'd give a great deal to see the Colonel's face when he sees what he's got to go shopping for in the morning. You'll be seeing him, I take it, in an hour or so. Has it occurred to you that Agnelli might very well be there along with Riordan and this fellow Samuelson?' 'It's an intriguing thought and, yes, it has occurred.' 'Well?'
'Well, what?'
'Well, what, he asks. We know that Agnelli is Annecy.' 'We're ninety-nine per cent certain. Don't forget that I never saw either of the two Annecy brothers that we didn't manage to catch and put away.' 'The fact that you don't know him doesn't mean he doesn't know you, of course he does - he must have seen your picture in the papers many times during the period of the arrest and trial. How do you think he's going to react when he sees before him not only the dreaded Lieutenant van Effen but the dreaded lieutenant whose sister he's got tucked away in some dungeon, the sister who, for all you know, he spends his leisure time with, testing out the latest model in thumb-screws?' 'Should be interesting.'
'Colonel de Graaf was right,'George muttered. 'You belong a hundred fathoms down. Just a cold-blooded fish.'
'"Your ten cents will help to kill a British soldier. It's a bargain at the price - the best bargain you'll ever get." That's what the collectors say when they go around rattling their damn tin cans in the Irish bars in the United States. Especially in the Irish bars in the north-east states. Especially in New York. Most especially of all in the borough of Queens where the Irish are thickest on the ground. Ten cents. That's all they ask, just ten cents. And, of course, they rattle their cans whenever they hold Irish nights, Irish dances, Irish raffles, Irish whatever you like.