by Roy Lewis
Enders nodded agreement, paused and sipped thoughtfully at his coffee. ‘Still, there was considerable impetus gained when the Italian government decided to set up their Art Squad under the direction of Signorina Carmela Cacciatore … indeed, I believe that the squad has recently been reinforced by a compatriot of yours, a Mr Arnold Landon.’
‘Our paths haven’t crossed,’ Cardinal admitted.
‘He is an important acquisition,’ Carmela added. ‘He has considerable experience. Of recent months we have managed to assist Interpol with information in tracing some 500 valuable antiques and paintings in Switzerland, Germany, Canada and the United States. Two successful prosecutions have been brought in Italy against individuals who played a leading role in this international art conspiracy, we’ve built up a blacklist of agents handling such works and we are currently co-operating in the investigation of individuals we believe have been involved in the handling of items from the looted Baghdad Museum and the thefts arising during the Libyan uprising.’
‘I’d heard you’d made a number of arrests.’
‘That is so. One in particular will be of interest to you. He is an individual called Alberto Severini, on whom we found a considerable number of incriminating documents which told us he had been dealing extensively with agents in England. He is not particularly interested in spending a long time in prison, and a little persuasion, some direct threats, and the prospect of a long period behind stone walls have led him to co-operate. He admitted finally that much of his dealings have been with a man called Augustus Clifford, in London. Mr Landon, my colleague, is presently in the north of England, an area with which he is familiar, extending our enquiries into the provenance of particular artefacts. And he has reported to us the name of Mr Augustus Clifford as someone probably recently involved in looted antiquities at country houses in Northumberland.’
Gus Clifford. Cardinal felt his stomach knotting. It could be that he would soon be able to nail his old enemy for good.
Enders was adding cream to his coffee and he watched it swirl, thick and white on the black surface.
He continued, ‘This is why we were able to put a trace on Clifford almost immediately he left England. In a sense he was already in our purview, as a result of Signorina Cacciatore’s squad activity. We were expecting to advise Scotland Yard to bring him in within the next few weeks, and then when it came to our attention that there was an operation being directed under your control against him, we put some muscle into our side of things. It took us only three hours to learn that after he left London he surfaced in Berlin under an assumed name. We contacted the German police, a series of raids were carried out upon known receivers and that brought a welcome haul of items and information.’
‘But you didn’t get your hands on Clifford himself.’
‘Sadly, no. He had already moved on.’
‘But you know his destination?’
Enders nodded. ‘We believe he is located near the Bodensee.’ He sighed. ‘This Augustus Clifford, he is an old adversary of yours, I believe. A slippery customer, as I think you would describe him in English. The Bodensee is a natural place for him. It puts him one step ahead of the forces of law. On the Bodensee, there are many passenger and freight boats coming in all the time, from Switzerland, Austria and Germany.’
‘The traffic is international,’ Carmela said. ‘It is quite a problem.’
‘Indeed,’ Herr Enders replied. ‘We have open borders, of course, unlike the situation in the old days and if Clifford is put on his guard by our early intervention and takes to flight, it will not be difficult for him to seek escape in various directions.’
‘But you are fairly certain he has arrived here, on the Bodensee?’ Cardinal asked.
‘Do not be so anxious, my friend. He is not running at the moment. Something would seem to be holding him here.’ Enders glanced at Carmela, smiled and sipped at his coffee. ‘He is here, we are sure of it. He is accompanied by four others; they have rented a villa overlooking the lake. There is the possibility that preparations are currently being made for a swift disappearance but there is also the chance that some kind of coup is being planned.’
‘Is that why the polizei haven’t gone in on them yet?’ Carmela said.
‘Something like that. First, there is some kind of dispute over paperwork, you know how bureaucrats can delay things, warrants, search documents, that kind of thing. And if it involves extradition there are other desks papers must cross. Besides that, if Clifford and his colleagues are planning some kind of robbery, we would like all the fish to swim into the net at the same time. Precipitate action might cause the break-up of the group, and we’d have to start a trace all over again. The four at the villa have done little so far, and though we’ve intercepted their calls there is nothing we can yet act upon. Two left this morning and have not yet returned but there are no signs they have fled as such. It’s business of some kind, we conclude. Observations continue, phones have been tapped, we have a trace of two mobiles, but we are reaching the conclusion that though nothing specific has yet occurred, it may be time soon that we move in. …’
‘Amen to that,’ Cardinal said solemnly and finished his coffee.
Carmela rose. There was a thoughtful frown on her face. ‘It has been a pleasure to meet you, Chief Inspector Cardinal. And I wish you well in your attempt to catch this evil man and put him where he belongs. But I have to make some further inquiries, which may be of some assistance to you. I must talk to my colleague, Mr Landon … and there have been rumours in the marketplace recently. …’
‘About what?’ Enders enquired.
Carmela shrugged expressively. ‘The sale of something of great value. It is yet unclear what is involved. But I need to talk further to some of my colleagues; matters seem to be moving quickly. I will be in touch again, soon. For the moment, arrivederci.’
As she walked away, Herr Enders watched her going, clearly appreciative of the swing of her hips. He smiled, turned back to Cardinal. ‘She is an able and determined woman. And a beautiful one. But do you know what her colleagues in the Carabinieri Art Squad call her? Though not to her face.’
‘What?’
‘Didi.’
‘Why?’ Cardinal said, puzzled.
‘Because of her bra size,’ Enders replied and guffawed.
Cardinal did not smile. He had the feeling it had been a sexist remark of which his colleague Sergeant Grout would not have approved.
Neither did he.
Nine miles away lay the south-west border of Germany; to the east lay Austria; under the hull of the boat lay the waters of the Bodensee, the lake forty-five miles long, 827 feet deep. Grout had read these details in a guide book at breakfast and now as he sat on the deck of the chartered launch with Cardinal and Enders and raised his face to the morning sun, he felt again that he was a world away from his native Yorkshire.
He had never been a travelling man.
He knew the hills and dales of Yorkshire well enough but he had never desired to see the rest of the world; it was true he had taken a few packaged flights to European destinations but he still preferred the hills and fells of northern England. Now, as the boat surged slowly across the blue surface of the lake and sharp points of sunshine seemed to leap up from the bows, Grout could hear the conversation between Enders and Cardinal seated behind him at the stern. Enders was telling Cardinal about the commercial fishing on the lake, the steel-hulled fishing boats that set out each morning with their nets.
‘It is a pity that you are not a fishing enthusiast,’ Enders was saying, ‘for there is good opportunity for sport here: perch, pike, trout, blaufelchen.’
‘My interests tend to lie elsewhere,’ Cardinal muttered.
Grout could not imagine where. He had never been able to discover what Cardinal did in his spare time. Perhaps there was no spare time. But he recognized the determination in Cardinal’s tone, and perhaps Enders sensed it also; idle chatter was not what Cardinal wanted. He had his mind se
t on one thing only; he was committed to his search for the man he had been hunting for years and Grout guessed that Cardinal’s palms would be itching now at the thought of being so close to laying his hands on Clifford at last. A conclusion to his obsession.
‘You see that?’
Enders was gesturing towards the tall, three-storied honeycomb structure glistening whitely at the water’s edge as they cruised past.
‘Follow it along there, now, just there where you can make out that terrace, and the road slicing up the hillside. Up above is the villa I’ve been talking about. There are housed Clifford and his associates.’
Cardinal was already lifting his binoculars. Grout had inspected them earlier, out of curiosity. They were heavy duty, Second World War, marked with the name of its German former owner. Grout wondered how Cardinal had come by them; they were heavy and inconvenient, and though Cardinal could have used more modern binoculars more easily, he was clearly attached to equipment with a history. He remained staring at the villa for a short while and then without a word handed the binoculars to Grout. After adjusting the focus slightly, Grout saw the villa spring into sharp relief; he could pick out the white-walled house clearly, and the low wall that ran around three sides of the infinity pool. Two men were lounging there in casual shirts and sunglasses.
‘Neither of those is Clifford,’ Cardinal said.
‘You can tell from here?’ Grout asked in surprise.
‘I can tell.’
Enders leaned forward. ‘I mentioned earlier that two of the party have left the villa. One of them could be Clifford, but I’m not sure. As soon as they return—’
‘We must move in,’ Cardinal interrupted sharply. ‘I’ve waited long enough for this chance. As soon as the two return we must move in and take them all.’
‘I think you are right,’ Enders replied, even though his tone displayed some unease. ‘We must hope that everything is ready and in place.’
In the event, the action was long delayed. The morning wore on, the sun climbed high in the sky and Enders made a pretence of fishing as the boat rocked gently on the lake surface, ruffled only slightly by the light breeze. The open deck was hot, and Grout slipped under cover of the wheelhouse from time to time, worried that the fairness of his skin could cause him suffering that evening if he stayed in the full glare of the sun too long. Enders trailed his desultory, un-baited line. Cardinal stared doggedly at the villa half a mile away, his attention riveted, looking for signs of movement.
In the late afternoon they received their first radio communication. Enders immediately snapped open his mobile phone and made a call. Grout could hear the faint voice of Enders’s informant. He had no idea where the man was located but he clearly had a view of the access road to the villa.
‘One man has returned.’
‘He came alone?’ Enders asked.
‘One man only in a car.’
Cardinal gnawed at his lip. Enders glanced at him, waited.
‘What do the local police want to do?’ Cardinal asked.
‘They are prepared to act on your instructions. It’s unusual, but it seems you have good contacts and in spite of their misgivings, they will do as you decide. This will be an extradition matter, though we can use the European warrants. They have already told me that though they have the passport identifications, they do not know whether these men have forged their identities … or indeed, have multiple passports. But, when you say we enter, they will do so. It’s up to you.’
Grout was surprised to see indecision in Cardinal’s eyes, he knew Cardinal desperately wanted Clifford to be in the villa before the raid occurred, but at the moment he could not be sure the big fish was there. So they waited.
The sun began to dip. Shadows grew longer around the lake and the surface of the water took on a deeper, darker blue. There were fewer boats standing out in the lake now and twinkling lights began to appear along the lakeside.
Cardinal’s lips drew back over his teeth in a feral snarl. ‘We can’t wait any longer. There are three men in there. Once darkness falls the task becomes more difficult. We’ll go in and take them. I just hope one of them will be Clifford.’
They need luck, Grout thought.
Enders immediately made the call as the launch on which they had been waiting nosed back towards the lakeside. They had a rendezvous point and the boat engine roared throatily into life and the bows lifted as the launch surged towards the shoreline. Cardinal’s shoulders were hunched; he was uncertain, concerned, and Grout shared his concerns: the net wasn’t tight enough.
They could not be sure their quarry awaited them in the villa.
From the terrace below the villa they could see the broad sweep of the lake, fading blackly into the distance but ringed with jewelled lights, coruscating in the darkness. Grout and Cardinal were walking behind the uniformed German police group; officially they could take no part in this action although it sprang from their presence, in effect.
The non-combatant role had an unsettling effect upon Grout and he suspected that Cardinal also found it irksome not to feel directly involved in the action. But there was little they could do; it was all up to the German police presence. Once the arrests had been carried out Cardinal and Grout could come into their own.
Grout watched while the men were deployed up the terrace towards the gate of the villa. Cardinal spoke from just in front of him.
‘What do you think, Grout?’
‘It looks efficient, sir.’
‘Mmm. But unimaginative. What would you do if you were in there with this little pack marching up on you?’
‘I’d try the back exit, obviously.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Cardinal said curtly.
‘The men in there wouldn’t know the back is covered.’
‘If they’ve got any sense they’d guess it was, though. I would. So I’d stay well away from the back wall. So what would they do?’
The detective sergeant was silent for a little while.
‘The roof,’ he said.
‘Right.’
‘It can’t be covered, though,’ Grout protested. ‘We can’t place anyone up there and I shouldn’t think there’s any way a man could get off that roof, even if he did climb up from inside.’
‘No, I don’t think it’s possible either but we don’t know, do we?’
Grout hesitated and glanced towards the policemen moving up the steps of the villa.
‘You think I should make a check, sir?’
‘I’m not carrying on this conversation for the sake of it, Grout. What are you still doing here?’
Grout left at once, smarting.
He was angry. Cardinal had that effect on him, the grating of two personalities who would never see eye to eye in human terms. But their brief experience in working together had brought its rewards in terms of success. It made it no easier to accept their basic incompatibility, nevertheless.
Grout’s anger cooled as he walked down the hill and made his way through the narrow street, for he recognized also that Cardinal was right. It would be difficult to make the suggestion to the German police; this was their affair. And Cardinal would have to be there when they entered the villa. But the roof ought to be checked; Cardinal could be right.
Moments later he knew Cardinal was right.
Grout came back up the hill and found himself in a narrow alley that ran alongside the villa.
The roof was high above his head and anyone dropping from it would risk a broken leg or worse. On the other hand it was a flat roof; it would allow a man a running jump, and the roof of the dark building on Grout’s right, though gabled, was only twelve feet distant at its high point. Grout walked the length of the alley, staring upwards. In a matter of minutes the police would be entering the villa. If there was to be any break out by the men within, it would occur very soon now. There was no time to go back, warn the police or Cardinal. He had to act himself.
A convenient pipe took him to the first gable on the roof; fro
m there he was able to scramble across the tiles to a flat area where he commanded a view of the roof of the villa, slightly above him. He crouched down and waited, checking his watch as he did so.
His wait proved short in duration. He heard no whistles and no noise of forcible entry but not three minutes after he had crouched down, he saw a brief flash of light in the air, a window or a skylight opening to the villa roof. After a moment he thought he heard a confused thudding sound but could not be sure. There was the chance that it was the noise of a fracas inside the villa, with the police attempting to overpower the men they sought but such theorizing was thrust from Grout’s mind the moment he caught sight of the dark, swiftly moving figure on the roof of the villa.
The man came quickly, light on his feet. He stepped to the edge of the villa roof and stared down into the alleyway. For a moment Grout thought that the fugitive was going to chance the drop; if he had done so Grout wouldn’t have followed him for disaster would be inevitable. The man on the villa roof came to the same conclusion and with a swift glance behind him, began to cast along the roof like a hound seeking a scent. He quickly realized there was no way off the roof and Grout flattened himself against the gable as the man stared across towards him. Next moment the fugitive was stepping back, pacing out a run. Grout admired his coolness because it could be only a matter of minutes before the German police inside the villa came up to the roof in pursuit.
As Grout watched, the fugitive was launching himself into space.
He came down like a dark, ungainly bird, thudding hard against the nearest gable, sliding and crashing against tiles, scrambling and grabbing for hand-holds and for a moment Grout thought that he was going to fall back into the alleyway but the man recovered his balance, clung to the gable, and waited a moment to regain his breath.
Grout stood up.
The two men were thirty feet apart, and Grout was still hidden by the gable he had been crouching behind, but if he waited longer the man across from him might shin down a wastepipe to the alley and be lost to him. Grout stepped forward, his feet scraped against the tiles and he came out into the open.