Читать книгу The Spoilers - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 13

He telephoned Andrew Tozier. ‘Can I call on you for some support tonight, Andy?’

‘Sure. Doc; moral or muscular?’

‘Maybe a bit of both. I’ll see you at the Howard Club – know where that is?’

‘I know,’ said Tozier. ‘You could choose a better place to lose your money, Doc; it’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg.’

‘I’m gambling, Andy,’ said Warren. ‘But not with money. Stick in the background, will you? I’ll call on you if I need you. I’ll be there at ten o’clock.’

‘I get the picture; you just want some insurance.’

‘That’s it,’ said Warren, and rang off.

The Howard Club was in Kensington, discreetly camouflaged in one of the old Victorian terraced houses. Unlike the Soho clubs, there were no flashing neon signs proclaiming blackjack and roulette because this was no cheap operation. There were no half-crown chips to be bought in the Howard Club.

Just after ten o’clock Warren strolled through the gambling rooms towards the bar. He was coolly aware of the professional interest aroused by his visit; the doorkeeper had picked up an internal telephone as he walked in and the news would be quick in reaching the higher echelons. He watched the roulette for a moment, and thought sardonically, If I were James Bond I’d be in there making a killing.

At the bar he ordered a Scotch and when the barman placed it before him a flat American voice said, ‘That will be on the house, Dr Warren.’

Warren turned to find John Follet, the manager of the club, standing behind him. ‘What are you doing so far west?’ asked Follet, ‘If you’re looking for any of your lost sheep you won’t find them here. We don’t like them.’

Warren understood very well that he was being warned. It had happened before that some of his patients had tried to make a quick fortune to feed the habit. They had not succeeded, of course, and things had got out of hand, ending in a brawl. The management of the Howard Club did not like brawls – they lowered the plushy tone of the place – and word had been passed to Warren to keep his boys in line.

He smiled at Follet. ‘Just sightseeing, Johnny.’ He lifted the glass. ‘Join me?’

Follet nodded to the barman, and said, ‘Well, it’s nice to see you, anyway.’

He would not feel that way for long, thought Warren. He said, ‘These are patients you’re talking about, Johnny; they’re sick people. I don’t rule them – I’m not a leader or anything like that.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said Follet. ‘But once your hopheads go on a toot they can do more damage than you’d believe possible. And if anyone can control them, it’s you.’

‘I’ve passed around the word that they’re not welcome here,’ said Warren. ‘That’s all I can do.’

Follet nodded shortly. ‘I understand, Doctor. That’s good enough for me.’

Warren looked about the room and saw Andrew Tozier standing at the nearest blackjack table. He said casually, ‘You seem to be doing well.’

Follet snorted. ‘You can’t do well in this crazy country. Now we’re having to play the wheel without a zero and that’s goddam impossible. No club can operate without an edge.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Warren. ‘It’s an equal chance for you and the customer, so that’s square. And you make your profit on the club membership, the bar and the restaurant.’

‘Are you crazy?’ demanded Follet. ‘It just doesn’t work that way. In any game of equal chances a lucky rich man will beat hell out of a lucky poor man any time. Bernoulli figured that out back in 1713 – it’s called the St Petersburg paradox.’ He gestured towards a roulette table. ‘That wheel carries a nut of fifty thousand pounds – but how much do you think the customers are worth? We’re in the position of playing a game of equal chances against the public – which can be regarded as infinitely rich. In the long run we get trimmed but good.’

‘I didn’t know you were a mathematician,’ said Warren.

‘Any guy in this racket who doesn’t understand mathematics goes broke fast,’ said Follet. ‘And it’s about time your British legislators employed a few mathematicians.’ He scowled. ‘Another thing – take that blackjack table; at one time it was banned because it was called a game of chance. Now that games of chance are legal they still want to ban it because a good player can beat a bad player. They don’t know what in hell they want.’

‘Can a good player win at blackjack?’ asked Warren interestedly.

Follett nodded. ‘It takes a steeltrap memory and nerves of iron, but it can be done. It’s lucky for the house there aren’t too many of those guys around. We’ll take that risk on blackjack but on the wheel we’ve got to have an edge.’ He looked despondently into his glass. ‘And I don’t see much chance of getting one – not with the laws that are in the works.’

‘Things are bad all round,’ said Warren unfeelingly. ‘Maybe you’d better go back to the States.’

‘No, I’ll ride it out here for a while.’ Follet drained his glass.

‘Don’t go,’ said Warren. ‘I had a reason for coming here. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘If it’s a touch for your clinic I’m already on your books.’

Warren smiled. ‘This time I want to give you money.’

‘This I must stick around to hear,’ said Follet. Tell me more.’

‘I have a little expedition planned,’ said Warren. ‘The pay isn’t much – say, two-fifty a month for six months. But there’ll be a bonus at the end if it all works out all right.’

‘Two-fifty a month!’ Follet laughed. ‘Look around you and figure how much I’m making right now. Pull the other one, Doctor.’

‘Don’t forget the bonus,’ said Warren calmly.

‘All right; what’s the bonus?’ asked Follet, smiling.

‘That would be open to negotiation, but shall we say a thousand?’

‘You kill me, Warren, you really do – the way you make jokes with a straight face.’ He began to turn away. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Doctor.’

‘Don’t go, Johnny. I’m confident you’ll join me. You see, I know what happened to that Argentinian a couple of months ago – and I know how it was done. It was a little over two hundred thousand pounds you rooked him of, wasn’t it?’

Follet stopped dead and turned his head to speak over his shoulder. ‘And how did you learn about that?’

‘A good story like that soon gets around, Johnny. You and Kostas were very clever.’

Follet turned back to Warren and said seriously, ‘Dr Warren: I’d be very careful about the way you talk – especially about Argentinian millionaires. Something might happen to you.’

‘I dare say,’ agreed Warren. ‘And something might happen to you too, Johnny. For instance, if the Argentinian were to find out how he’d been had, he’d raise a stink, wouldn’t he? He’d certainly go to the police. It’s one thing to lose and quite another to be cheated, so he’d go to the police.’ He tapped Follet on the chest. ‘And the police would come to you, Johnny. The best that could happen would be that they’d deport you – ship you back to the States. Or would it be the best? I hear that the States is a good place for Johnny Follet to keep away from right now. It was something about certain people having long memories.’

‘You hear too damn’ much,’ said Follet coldly.

‘I get around,’ said Warren with a modest smile.

‘It seems you do. You wouldn’t be trying to put the bite on me, would you?’

‘You might call it that.’

Follet sighed. ‘Warren, you know how it is. I have a fifteen per cent piece of this place – I’m not the boss. Whatever was done to the Argentinian was done by Kostas. Sure, I was around when it happened, but it wasn’t my idea – I wasn’t in on it, and I got nothing out of it. Kostas did everything.’

‘I know,’ said Warren. ‘You’re as pure as the driven snow. But it won’t make much difference when they put you on a VC-10 and shoot you back to the States.’ He paused and said contemplatively. ‘It might even be possible to arrange for a reception committee to meet you at Kennedy Airport.’

‘I don’t think I like any of this,’ said Follet tightly. ‘Supposing I told Kostas you were shooting your mouth. What do you suppose would happen to you? I’ve never had a beef against you, and I don’t see why you’re doing this. Just watch it.’

As he turned away, Warren said, ‘I’m sorry, Johnny; it seems as though you’ll be back in the States before the month’s out.’

‘That does it,’ said Follet violently. ‘Kostas is a bad guy to cross. Watch out for your back, Warren.’ He snapped his fingers and a man who was lounging against the wall suddenly tautened and walked over to the bar. Follet said, ‘Dr Warren is just leaving.’

Warren glanced over at Andy Tozier and held up a finger. Tozier strolled over and said pleasantly, ‘Evening, all.’

‘Johnny Follet wants to throw me out,’ said Warren.

‘Does he?’ said Tozier interestedly. ‘And how does he propose to do that? Not that it matters very much.’

‘Who the hell’s this?’ snapped Follet.

‘Oh, I’m a friend of Dr Warren,’ said Tozier. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, Follet. It should be an interesting exercise.’

‘What are you talking about? What exercise?’

‘Oh, just to see how quickly it could be taken apart. I know a couple of hearty sergeant types who could go through here like a dose of salts in less than thirty minutes. The trouble about that, though, is that you’d have a hell of a job putting back the pieces.’ His voice hardened. ‘My advice to you is that if Dr Warren wants to talk to you, then you pin back your hairy ears and listen.’

Follet took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks. ‘All right, Steve; I’ll sort this out,’ he said to the man next to him. ‘But stick around – I might need you fast.’ The man nodded and returned to his position against the wall.

‘Let’s all have a nice, soothing drink,’ suggested Tozier.

‘I don’t get any of this,’ protested Follet. ‘Why are you pushing me, Warren? I’ve never done anything to you.’

‘And you won’t, either,’ observed Warren. ‘In particular you won’t say anything about this to Kostas because if anything happens to me all my information goes directly to the places where it will do most good.’

Tozier said, ‘I don’t know what this is all about, but if anything happens to Dr Warren then a certain Johnny Follet will wish he’d never been born, whatever else happens to him.’

‘What the hell are you ganging up on me for?’ said Follet desperately.

‘I don’t know,’ said Tozier. ‘Why are we ganging up on him, Doc?’

‘All you have to do is to take a holiday, Johnny,’ said Warren. ‘You come with me to the Middle East, help me out on a job, and then come back here. And everything will be as it was. Personally, I don’t care how much money you loot from Argentinian millionaires. I just want to get a job done.’

‘But why pick on me?’ demanded Follet.

‘I didn’t pick on you,’ said Warren wearily. ‘You’re all I’ve got, damn it! I have an idea I can use a man of your peculiar talents, so you’re elected. And you don’t have much say about it, either – you daren’t take the chance of being pushed back to the States. You’re a gambler, but not that much of a gambler.’

‘Okay, so you’ve whipsawed me,’ said Follet sourly. ‘What’s the deal?’

‘I’m running this on the “need to know” principle. You don’t have to know, you just have to do – and I’ll tell you when to do it.’

‘Now, wait a goddam minute.…’

‘That’s the way it is,’ said Warren flatly.

Follet shook his head in bewilderment. ‘This is the screwiest thing that ever happened to me.’

‘If it’s any comfort, brother Jonathan, I don’t know what’s going on, either,’ said Tozier. He eyed Warren thoughtfully. ‘But Doc here is showing unmistakable signs of acting like a boss, so I suppose he is the boss.’

‘Then I’ll give you an order,’ said Warren with a tired grin. ‘For God’s sake, stop calling me “Doc”. It could be important in the future.’

‘Okay, boss,’ said Tozier with a poker face,