Читать книгу The Spoilers / Juggernaut - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 22

It may have been the first link but it wasn’t the last because Eastman proved to be almost as inaccessible as Delorme herself. ‘A snooty lot, these heroin smugglers,’ observed Abbot. ‘They don’t mix with the common herd.’

So they applied the same technique to Eastman. It was a painfully slow task to keep him under observation and then to tag his associates and they would have given up had they not known with certainty that they were on the right track. For Abbot received a letter from Hellier who was acting as a clearing house for information.

‘Good news and bad,’ said Abbot after he had read it.

‘Let’s have the bad news first,’ said Parker. ‘I might need to be cheered up after hearin’ it.’

‘Warren has lost Speering. He disappeared into the blue in the middle of Kurdistan. It’s up to us now, Dan. I bet Nick’s climbing the wall,’ he said reflectively.

‘We’re not much forrarder,’ said Parker gloomily.

‘Oh, but we are. That’s the good news. Eastman saw Speering the day before he gave Nick the slip. That directly links Speering with Delorme. This is the first bit of concrete evidence we’ve had yet. Everything else was just one of Nick Warren’s hunches.’

Parker brightened. ‘Aye, that’s so. Well, let’s get on wi’ it.’

So they got on with it, but it was a long time before Abbot made the decision. ‘This is the man,’ he said. ‘This is where we cast our bread upon the waters and hope it’ll come back buttered on both sides.’

‘Picot?’

Picot was a long way down the line. He knew a man who knew a man who knew Eastman. He was accessible and, Abbot hoped, receptive to new ideas if they were cast his way. He was also, to a keen and observant eye, a crook, which further raised Abbot’s hopes.

‘How do we tackle him?’ asked Parker.

‘The first thing is to move into a cheaper hotel.’ He looked at Parker consideringly. ‘We’re not rolling in cash – but we’re not dead broke. We’re hungry for loot, but careful. We have something to sell and we want the best price, so we’re cagey. Got the picture?’

Parker smiled sombrely. ‘That bit about not rollin’ in cash’ll come easy to me; I’ve never had much money. How do we broach the subject to Picot?’

‘We play it by ear,’ said Abbot easily.

Picot frequented a cafe in the old town near the Port, and when Abbot and Parker strolled in the next evening he was sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Abbot selected a table just in front and to the side of him, and they sat down. Abbot wrinkled his nose as he looked at the food-spotted menu and ordered for both of them.

Parker looked about the place and said in a low voice, ‘What now?’

‘Take it easy,’ said Abbot softly. ‘Let it come naturally.’ He turned and looked at the little pile of newspapers and magazines on Picot’s table, obviously there for the use of the customers. In English, he said, ‘Excuse me, monsieur; do you mind?’

Picot looked up and nodded shortly. ‘Okay with me.’ His English was incongruously tinged with a mixed French and American accent.

Abbot took a magazine and flipped the pages idly until the waiter served them, putting down many plates, two drinks and a jug of water. Abbot poured a little water into his glass and there was a swirl of milkiness. ‘Cheers, Dan.’

Hesitantly Parker did the same, drank and spluttered. He banged down the glass. ‘What is this stuff? Cough mixture?’

‘The local white lightning – arak.’

Parker investigated his palate with his tongue. ‘I haven’t tasted anything like this since I were a boy.’ He looked surprised as he made the discovery. ‘Aniseed balls!’ He sniffed the glass. ‘It’s no drink for a grown man. Any chance of a Watney’s in here?’

Abbot grinned. ‘I doubt it. If you want beer you have a choice of Lebanese French and Lebanese German.’

‘Make it the German,’ said Parker, so Abbot ordered him a Henninger Byblos and turned back to find him regarding the contents of the plates with deep suspicion.

‘For God’s sake, stop acting like a tourist, Dan,’ he said with irritation. ‘What do you expect here – fish and chips?’

‘I like to know what I’m eatin’,’ said Parker, unmoved.

‘It’s mezza, said Abbot loudly. ‘It’s filling and it’s cheap. If you want anything better go to the Saint-Georges – but I’m not paying. I’m getting fed up with you. I have a good mind to call the whole thing off.’

Parker looked startled but subsided as Abbot winked. The beer arrived and Parker tasted it and put down the glass. ‘It’ll do, I suppose.’

Abbot said quietly, ‘Do you think you could … er … get pissed?’

Parker flicked the glass with his fingernail. ‘It ‘ud take more than this stuff. It’s like maiden’s water.’

‘But you could try, couldn’t you? You might even become indiscreet.’

‘Then buy me another,’ said Parker, and drained the glass with one mighty swallow.

Abbot made a good meal but Parker picked at his food fastidiously and drank more than was apparently good for him. His voice became louder and his words tended to slur together, and he seemed to be working up to a grievance. ‘You want to call it off – how do you suppose I feel? I get this idea – a bloody good idea – an’ what are you doin’ about it? Nothin’ but sittin’ on your upper-class bottom, that’s what.’

‘Quiet, Dan!’ urged Abbot.

‘I won’t be bloody quiet! I’m gettin’ tired o’ your snipin’, too.’ His voice took on an ugly mimicry. ‘“Don’t do this, Dan; don’t do that, Dan; don’t eat wi’ your mouth open, Dan.’ Who the hell do you think you are?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said Abbot.

‘You said you could help me wi’ what I’ve got – an’ what ha’ you done? Sweet Fanny Adams!’

‘It takes time to make the contact,’ said Abbot wearily.

‘You said you had the contacts,’ said Parker venomously.

‘What have you got to complain about,’ said Abbot in a high voice. ‘You’re not paying for all this, are you? If it wasn’t for me you’d still be on your arse in London fiddling around with beat-up cars and dreaming of how to make a quick fortune. I’ve laid out nearly a thousand quid on this, Dan – doesn’t that count for anything?’

‘I don’t care whose money it is. You’re still doin’ nothin’ an’ you’re wastin’ my time.’ Parker gestured largely towards the open door. ‘That harbour’s full o’ ships, an’ I bet half of ‘em are in the smugglin’ racket. They’d go for what I have in me noggin an’ they’d pay big for it, too. You talk about me sittin’ on me arse; why don’t you get up off yours?’

Abbot was trying – unsuccessfully – to quiet Parker. ‘For God’s sake, shut up! Do you want to give everything away? How do you know this place isn’t full of police?’

Parker struggled to his feet drunkenly. ‘Aw, hell!’ He looked around blearily. ‘Where is it?’

Abbot looked at him resignedly. ‘Through there.’ He indicated a door at the back of the cafe. ‘And don’t get talking to any strange men.’ He watched Parker stagger away, shrugged, and picked up the magazine.

A voice behind him said, ‘Monsieur?’

He turned and found Picot looking at him intently. ‘Yes?’

‘Would I be right if I said that you and your friend are looking for … employment?’

‘No,’ said Abbot shortly, and turned away. He hesitated perceptibly and turned back to face Picot. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘I thought maybe you were out of work. Sailors, perhaps?’

‘Do I look like a sailor?’ demanded Abbot.

Picot smiled. ‘No, monsieur. But your friend …’

‘My friend’s business is his.’

‘And not yours, monsieur?’ Picot raised his eyebrows. ‘Then you are definitely not interested in employment?’

‘What kind of employment?’

‘Any man, particularly a sailor who has … ingenious ideas … there is always an opening for him in the right place.’

‘I’m not a sailor. My friend was at one time. There’d have to be a place for me. We’re great friends – inseparables, you know.’

Picot examined his finger-nails and smiled. ‘I understand, monsieur. A great deal would depend on the ideas your friend has in mind. If you could enlighten me then it could be worth your while.’

‘If I told you then you’d know as much as me, wouldn’t you?’ said Abbot cunningly. ‘Nothing doing. Besides, I don’t know who you are. I don’t go a bundle on dealing with total strangers.’

‘My name is Jules Fabre,’ said Picot with a straight face.

Abbot shook his head. ‘Means nothing to me. You could be a big-timer for all I know – and then again, you could be a cheap crook.’

‘That’s not very nice, monsieur,’ said Picot reproachfully.

‘I didn’t intend it to be,’ said Abbot.

‘You are making things difficult,’ said Picot. ‘You can hardly expect me to buy something unknown. That is not good business. You would have to tell me sooner or later.’

‘I’m not too worried about that. What Dan – my friend – has can only be made to work by him. He’s the expert.’

‘And you?’

Abbot grinned cheekily. ‘You can say I’m his manager. Besides, I’ve put up the money so far.’ He looked Picot up and down insultingly. ‘And talking about money – what we’ve got would cost a hell of a lot, and I don’t think a cheap chiseller like you has it, so stop wasting my time.’ He turned away.

‘Wait,’ said Picot. ‘This secret you have – how much do you expect to sell it for?’

Abbot swung around and stared at Picot. ‘Half a million American dollars. Have you got that much?’ he asked ironically.

Picot’s lips twitched and he lowered his voice. ‘And this is for smuggling?’

‘What the hell do you think we’ve been talking about all this time?’ demanded Abbot.

Picot became animated. ‘You want to get in touch with someone at the top? I can help you, monsieur; but it will cost money.’ He rubbed his finger and thumb together meaningfully and shrugged. ‘My expenses, monsieur.’

Abbot hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No. What we have is so good that the man at the top will pay you for finding us. Why should I grease your palm?’

‘Because if you don’t, the man at the top will never hear of you. I’m just trying to make a living, monsieur.’

Parker came back and sat down heavily. He picked up an empty bottle and banged it down. ‘I want another beer.’

Abbot half-turned in his seat. ‘Well, buy one,’ he said irritably.

‘Got no money,’ said Parker. ‘Besides,’ he added belligerently, ‘you’re Mr Moneybags around here.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Abbot took out his wallet, peeled off a note from the thin wad, and threw it on the table. ‘Buy yourself a bucketful and swill in it. You can drown in the stuff for all I care.’ He turned to Picot. ‘All right – how much, you bloody twister?’

‘A thousand pounds – Lebanese.’

‘Half now and the other half when contact has been made.’ He counted out notes and dropped them in front of Picot. ‘All right?’

Picot put out his hand and delicately took the money. ‘It will do, monsieur. What is your name and where can I find you?’

‘My name doesn’t matter and I’ll be in here most evenings,’ said Abbot. ‘That’s good enough.’

Picot nodded. ‘You had better not be wasting time,’ he warned. ‘The man at the top has no use for fools.’

‘He’ll be happy with what we have,’ said Abbot confidently.

‘I hope so.’ Picot looked at Parker who had bis nose deep in a glass. ‘Your friend drinks too much – and talks too loudly. That is not good.’

‘He’s all right. He’s just become edgy because of the waiting, that’s all. Anyway, I can control him.’

‘I understand your position – exactly,’ said Picot drily. He stood up. ‘I will be seeing you soon.’

Abbot watched him leave, then said, ‘You were great, Dan. The stage lost a great actor somewhere along the line.’

Parker put down his glass and looked at it without enthusiasm. ‘I was pretty good at amateur theatricals at one time,’ he said complacently. ‘You paid him something. How much?’

‘He gets a thousand pounds; I paid half.’ Abbot laughed. ‘Keep your hair on, Dan; they’re Lebanese pounds – worth about half-a-crown each.’

Parker grunted and swirled the beer in his glass. ‘It’s still too much. This stuff is full of piss and wind. Let’s go somewhere we can get a real drink, and you can tell me all about it.’