Читать книгу The Spoilers / Juggernaut - Desmond Bagley, Desmond Bagley - Страница 24

Eastman did not keep them waiting long. Three days later he rang up and said, ‘Hello, Abbot; put on your best bib and tucker – you’re going on the town tonight.’

‘Where to?’

‘Le Paon Rouge. If you don’t have decent clothes, buy some out of the dough I gave you.’

‘Who’s paying for the night out?’ asked Abbot in his character as a man on the make.

‘It’ll be paid for,’ said Eastman. ‘You’re meeting the boss. Be on your best behaviour. I’ll send a car for you at nine-thirty.’

Abbot put the phone on the hook slowly and turned to find Parker regarding him with interest. ‘Have you got a dinner-jacket, Dan?’

Parker nodded. ‘I packed it on the off-chance I’d need it.’

‘You’ll need it tonight. We’ve been invited to the Paon Rouge.’

‘That’ll be the third time I’ve worn it, then,’ said Parker. He put his hand on his belly. ‘Might be a bit tight. What’s the Paon Rouge?’

‘A night-club in the Hotel Phoenicia. We’re meeting the boss, and if it’s who I think it is, we’ve got it made. We’ve just been told tactfully to shave and brush our teeth nicely.’

‘The Hotel Phoenicia – isn’t that the big place near the Saint-Georges?’

‘That’s it. Do you know what a five-star hotel is, Dan?’

Parker blinked. ‘The Saint-Georges?’ he hazarded.

‘Right! Well, there aren’t enough stars in the book to classify the Phoenicia. Dope-smuggling must be profitable.’

They were picked up by the black Mercedes and driven to the Phoenicia by an uncommunicative Lebanese. Parker was unhappy because his doubts about his evening wear had been confirmed; his dress shirt had taken a determined grip on his throat and was slowly throttling him, and his trousers pinched cruelly at waist and crotch. He made a mental note to start a course of exercises to conquer his middle-age spread.

The name of Eastman dropped to an impressively-dressed major-domo brought them to Eastman’s table with remarkable alacrity. The Paon Rouge was fashionably dark in the night-club manner, but not so dark that Abbot could not spot his quarry; Eastman was sitting with Jeanette Delorme and rose at their approach. ‘Glad you could make it,’ he said conventionally.

‘Delighted, Mr Eastman,’ said Abbot. He looked down at the woman. ‘Is this the boss?’

Eastman smiled. ‘If you cross her you’ll find out.’ He turned to her. ‘This is Abbot, the other is Parker. Gentlemen – Miss Delorme.’

Abbot inclined his head and studied her. She was dressed in a simple sheath which barely covered her upperworks and she appeared to be, at the most, twenty-five years old. He knew for a fact that she was thirty-two, but it was wonderful what money would do. A very expensive proposition was Miss Delorme.

She crooked a finger at him. ‘You – sit here.’ There was a minor flurry as flunkies rearranged chairs and Abbot found himself sitting next to her and facing Parker, with a glass of champagne in his fingers. She studied Parker for a moment, then said, ‘If what Jack tells me is true, I may be willing to employ you. But I need proof.’ Her English was excellent and almost unaccented.

‘You’ll get your proof,’ said Abbot. ‘Dan will give you that.’

Parker said, ‘There’s plenty of sea out there. You can have trials.’

‘Which torpedo would be most suitable?’

‘Doesn’t really matter,’ said Parker. ‘As long as it’s an electric job.’

She twirled her glass slowly in her fingers. ‘I have a friend,’ she said. ‘He was a U-boat captain during the war. His opinion of the British torpedo was very low. He said that on half the firings the British torpedo went wild.’ Her voice became sharp. ‘That would not be permissible.’

‘Christ, no!’ said Eastman. ‘We can’t lose a torpedo – not with what it will be carrying. It would be too goddam expensive.’

‘Ah, you’re talking about the early British torpedoes,’ said Parker. ‘The Mark XI was different. Your U-boat skipper was dead right – the early British fish were bloody awful. But the Mark XI was a Chinese copy o’ the German fish an’ it was very good when it came into service in ‘44. We pinched it from the Jerries, an’ the Yanks pinched it from us. Any o’ those torpedoes would be good enough but I’d rather have the old Mark XI – it’s more familiar, like. But they’re all pretty much the same an’ just differ a bit in detail.’

‘On what basis will you get the extra performance?’

‘Look,’ said Parker, leaning forward earnestly. ‘The Mark XI came out in ‘44 an’ it had lead-acid batteries – that was all they had in them days. Twenty-five years have gone by since then, an’ things have changed. The new kalium cells – that’s mercury oxide-zinc – pack a hell o’ a lot more power, an’ you can use that power in two ways. You can either increase the range or the speed. I’ve designed circuits for both jobs.’

‘We’re interested in increasing range,’ said Eastman.

Parker nodded. ‘I know. It’s goin’ to cost you a packet,’ he warned. ‘Mercury cells ain’t cheap.’

‘How much?’ asked Delorme.

Parker scratched his head. ‘Every time you shoot a fish it’ll cost you over a thousand quid just for the power.’

She looked at Eastman, who interpreted, ‘A thousand pounds sterling.’

Abbot sipped his champagne. ‘The cost of everything is going up,’ he observed coolly.

‘That’s a fact,’ said Parker with a grin, ‘Back in ‘44 the whole bloody torpedo only cost six hundred quid. I dunno what they cost now, though.’

‘Fifteen hundred pounds,’ said Eastman. ‘That’s the going rate on the surplus market.’

‘There you are,’ said Parker. ‘Another thousand for a trial an’ another for the real job, plus, say, five hundred for conversion. That’s four thousand basic. Then there’s our share on top o’ that.’

‘And what is your share?’ asked Jeanette Delorme.

‘A percentage of the profits,’ said Abbot.

She turned to him. ‘Indeed! And where do you come in on this? It seems that Parker is doing all the work.’

Abbot smiled easily. ‘Let’s say I’m his manager.’

‘There are no passengers in the organization,’ she said flatly.

Parker broke in. ‘Me an’ Mike are mates – I go where he goes, an’ vicey-versey. Besides, I’ll see he works hard – I can’t do it all meself.’

‘It’s a package deal, you see,’ said Abbot. ‘And you talk business to me.’

‘The profits on smuggling gold are not very big,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Oh, come off it,’ said Abbot in disgust. ‘You’re not smuggling gold – you’re running dope.’

She looked at Eastman and then back at Abbot. ‘And how do you know that?’ she asked softly.

‘Just putting two and two together. There was a whisper in London – that’s why we came out here.’

‘That was one whisper too many,’ she snapped.

Abbot smiled. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I was a professional in the whisper-listening business. It was just a matter of chance, and coming out here was a hell of a long shot.’ He shrugged. ‘But it’s paid off.’

‘Not yet,’ she said pointedly. ‘How much do you want?’

Twenty per cent of the take,’ said Abbot promptly.

She laughed. ‘Oh, what a stupid man we have here. Don’t you think so, Jack?’ Eastman grinned, and she said seriously, ‘You will get one per cent and that will make you very rich, Monsieur Michael Abbot.’

‘I may be stupid,’ said Abbot, ‘but I’m not crazy enough to take one per cent.’

Eastman said, ‘I think you are crazy if you expect to get any kind of a percentage. We’re not going to work that way.’

‘That’s right,’ said Delorme. ‘We’ll give you a flat rate for the work. What would you say to a hundred thousand American dollars?’

Abbot raised his eyebrows. ‘Each?’

She hesitated fractionally. ‘Of course.’

‘I’d say it’s not on,’ said Abbot, shaking his head. ‘We’d want at least double that. Do you think I don’t know what the profits are in this racket?’

Eastman chuckled raspingly. ‘You’re both stupid and crazy. Hell, you’ve given us the idea anyway. What’s to prevent us going ahead without you?’

‘Now who’s being stupid?’ asked Abbot. He pointed to Parker. ‘Torpedo mechanics aren’t easy to come by, and those who can do a conversion like this are even rarer. But a mechanic who can and is willing to run dope is as rare as a hen’s tooth. You can’t do it without us – and you know it.’

‘So you figure you’ve got us over a barrel.’ said Eastman ironically. ‘Look, buster; a week ago we didn’t even know you existed. We don’t need you, you know.’

‘But it’s still a good idea, Jack,’ said Delorme thoughtfully. ‘Maybe Abbot will meet us half way.’ She turned to him. ‘This is final – take it or leave it. Three hundred thousand dollars for the two of you. One hundred thousand deposited in a bank here on the successful completion of trials – the rest when the job is done.’

Abbot said, ‘What do you think, Dan?’

Parker’s mouth was open. He closed it, and said, ‘You have the business head; I’ll leave it to you, Mike.’ He swallowed convulsively.

Abbot pondered for a long time. ‘All right; we’ll take it.’

‘Good!’ said Delorme, and smiled radiantly. ‘Order some more champagne, Jack.’

Abbot winked at Parker. ‘Satisfied, Dan?’

‘I’m happy,’ said Parker faintly.

‘I think payment by result is the best way,’ said Abbot, and looked sideways at Eastman. ‘If we’d have stuck to a percentage, Jack here would have cheated the pants off us. He wouldn’t have shown us the books, that’s for certain.’

Eastman grinned. ‘What books?’ He held up a finger and the sommelier came running.

Delorme said, ‘I’d like to dance.’ She looked at Abbot who began to rise, and said, ‘I think I’ll dance with … Mr Parker.’

Abbot subsided and watched her allow the bemused Parker to take her on to the floor. His lips quirked into a smile. ‘So that’s the boss. Something I hadn’t expected.’

‘If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking – forget it,’ advised Eastman. ‘Jeanette isn’t a girl to be monkeyed around with. I’d just as soon fight a buzz-saw with my bare hands.’ He nodded towards the dance floor. ‘Is Parker as good as he says he is?’

‘He’ll do the job. What’s the cargo?’

Eastman hesitated briefly, then said, ‘You’ll get to know, I guess. It’s heroin.’

‘A full cargo – the whole five hundred pounds?’

‘Yeah.’

Abbot whistled and calculated briefly. He laughed. ‘That’s worth about twenty-five million dollars, at least. I topped Jeanette’s one per cent, anyway.’

‘You’re in the big time now,’ said Eastman. ‘But don’t forget – you’re still only a hired hand.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘That whisper you heard in London. Who did it come from?’

Abbot shrugged. ‘You know how it is – a piece comes from here and another from there. You put them all together and get some sort of picture. I’ve had experience at it – I was a reporter.’

‘I know,’ said Eastman calmly. ‘You’ve been checked out. We’ve got nothing on Parker yet, though.’ He stared at Abbot with hard eyes. ‘You’d better not still be a reporter, Abbot.’

‘I couldn’t get a job on the Tolpuddle Gazette,’ said Abbot bitterly. ‘Not with the reputation I’ve got now. If you’ve been checking on me you know I was given the bum’s rush. That’s why I decided to come on this lark and make some real money.’

‘Just a penny ante blackmailer,’ agreed Eastman.

‘They couldn’t prove anything,’ said Abbot defensively.

‘Just keep your nose clean while you’re with us,’ said Eastman. ‘Now, what can you tell us about Parker? The boss wants him checked out, too. She’s very security-minded.’

Abbot obligingly gave him a run-down on Parker, sticking entirely to the known facts. There was no harm in that because the truth was exactly what would serve best. He had just finished when Jeanette and Parker returned to the table, Parker pink in the face.

Jeanette said, ‘I don’t think Dan is accustomed to modern dancing. What about you, Mike Abbot?’

Abbot stood up. ‘Would you like to test me on a trial run?’

In reply she opened her arms as the opening bars of music started and he stepped forward. It was a slow and rather old-fashioned number so he took her in his arms and said, as they stepped on to the floor, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a business like this?’

‘I like the money,’ she said. ‘Just as you do.’

‘You must be making quite a lot,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s not everyone who can lay hands on a hundred thousand dollars’ loose cash – that’s the boodle for the successful trial, in case you’ve forgotten. I take it this isn’t a one-shot venture?’

‘What do you care?’

‘I like to stick where the money is. It would be nice if this built up into a regular income.’

She moved closer to him. ‘There is no reason why not. All that is required is that you do your work and keep your mouth shut. Both are essential to your general health.’

‘Would that be a threat?’ asked Abbot lightly.

She snuggled up to him, pressing her body against his. ‘It would. Nobody plays tricks with me, Monsieur Abbot.’

‘No tricks intended,’ said Abbot, chilled at the disparity between her words and her present actions. He had seen her dossier and it chimed in exactly with Eastman’s description. A buzz-saw, he had said. Anyone laying a hand on Delorme or any of her dubious enterprises would draw back a bloody stump at best. And there was a list of six names of varied nationality to demonstrate the worst. He danced with five-foot-six of warm womanhood pressed vibrantly against him and thought that perhaps she was a spider, after all.

She breathed into his ear, ‘You dance very well, Mike.’ He winced as her teeth nipped his earlobe.

‘Thanks, but there’s no need to be so enthusiastic,’ he said drily.

She giggled. ‘Dan was shocked. He kept talking about his wife and children. Does he really have a wife and children?’

‘Of course. Three kids, I think.’

‘He is a peasant type,’ she said. ‘His brains are in his hands. You are different.’

Abbot chuckled internally at the outrage Parker would show at being described as a peasant. ‘How am I different?’

‘You know very well,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the organization, Mike. We’ll try to keep you very happy.’

He grinned in the semi-darkness. ‘Does that include Jack Eastman?’

‘Never mind Jack Eastman,’ she said, her voice suddenly sharp. ‘Jack will do what I tell him. He doesn’t …’ She stopped speaking and made a sinuous movement so that her breasts nuzzled his chest. ‘I’ll keep you very happy,’ she whispered.

The music stopped and she stepped away from him after a lingering moment. He escorted her back to the table and thought he saw a satirical gleam in Eastman’s eye.

‘I’m not tired yet,’ she said. ‘It’s nice having three escorts. Come on, Jack.’

Eastman took her on to the floor again and Abbot dropped into the chair next to Parker. He found he was sweating slightly. Must be the heat, he thought, and picked up his newly refilled champagne glass.

Parker looked at the throng on the dance floor. ‘That woman scares me,’ he said gloomily.

‘What did she do – try to rape you on the floor?’

‘Bloody near.’ Parker’s brow turned pink again. ‘By God, if my missus could have seen me there’d be a divorce tomorrow.’ He tugged at his collar. ‘She’s a man-eater, all right.’

‘It seems as though our jobs are neatly allocated,’ said Abbot. ‘You look after the torpedo and I look after Jeanette.’ He sipped his champagne. ‘Or she looks after me, if I understood her correctly.’

He found he was smiling.

They stayed for quite a while at the Paon Rouge, dining and watching the cabaret. They left at about two in the morning to find the Mercedes waiting outside. Eastman got in the front next to the driver, and Abbot found himself rubbing shoulders and legs with Jeanette who wore a shimmering silver cape.

The car moved away, and after a while he looked out of the window at the sea and said, ‘It would be helpful if I knew where we were going.’

‘You’ll find out,’ she said, and opened her cigarette case. ‘Give me a light.’

He flicked his lighter and saw Parker sitting on the other side of Jeanette, easing his tight collar. ‘You’re the boss.’

The car proceeded smoothly on the road out of Beirut towards Tripoli and he wondered where it was taking them – and why. He did not wonder long because presently it swung off the road and drew up in front of a large wooden gate which was swung open by an Arab. The car rolled into a large yard and stopped.

They got out and Abbot looked around. As far as he could see in the darkness it seemed to be some sort of factory. A large shed loomed against the night sky, and beyond the moon sparkled on the sea. ‘This way,’ said Eastman, and Abbot followed him into an office.

The first thing he saw when the lights snapped on was his own suitcase against the wall. ‘What the hell …?’

‘You’ll be staying here,’ said Eastman. ‘There are two beds in the next room. No bathroom, I’m afraid – but there’s a wash-basin.’ He glanced at Jeanette and then his gaze came back to Abbot. ‘You should be quite comfortable,’ he said sardonically. ‘Ali will do your cooking.’

Jeanette said, ‘You’ll stay here until after the trials of the torpedo. How long you stay depends on yourselves.’ She smiled and said lightly, ‘But I’ll come to see you – often.’ She turned to Parker and said abruptly, ‘How long to make the conversion?’

Parker shrugged. ‘Two weeks – with the right equipment. A hell of a long time, or never, without it. But I’ll have to have a torpedo first.’

She nodded. ‘Come with me.’ They followed her from the office and across the yard to the big shed. Ali, the Arab, produced a big key and unlocked the door, then stood back to allow them to enter. The shed was on two levels and they came out on a platform overlooking the main workshop. A flight of wooden stairs led down to ground level.

Abbot looked over the rail, and said, ‘Well, I’m damned! You were pretty sure of us, weren’t you?’

Illumined under harsh lighting was a sleek and deadly-looking torpedo set up on trestles, gleaming because of the thin film of protective oil which covered it. To Abbot it looked enormous, and the first thought that came into his head was: How in hell did this bitch lay her hands on a torpedo at three days’ notice?