The Spoilers / Juggernaut

by Desmond Bagley

  ‘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 deadlylooking 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?

  FIVE

  Warren checked the maps again, and his pen traced out the record of their journeys. The two weeks they had spent in Kurdistan had been wasted, but he did not see how they could have done differently. There had been a chance, admittedly a slim one, of running across Speering, and they could not have passed it by. But it had been a futile two weeks.

  So they had returned to Tehran in the hope of finding something, what he did not know. All he knew was that he had failed, and failed dismally. Every time he had to write to Hellier confessing failure he cursed and fretted. The only bright spot was that Abbot and Parker seemed to be making good in the Lebanon—it seemed that his ‘insurance policy’ might pay off in the end. But now they had dropped out of sight and he did not know what to make of it.

  Johnny Follet took it all phlegmatically. He did not know what Warren was looking for so assiduously, nor did he care so long as he was paid. He had long ago written off his resentment against Warren and was quite enjoying himself in Tehran, and took it as a pleasant and exotic holiday. He wandered the streets and saw the sights, and presently found himself some congenial companions.

  Ben Bryan was also uneasy, if not as much as Warren, but that may have been because he did not have Warren’s overall responsibility. He and Warren pored over the maps of northwest Iran trying to figure out where Speering could have gone to ground. ‘It’s no use,’ said Ben. ‘If these maps were up to the standard of British Ordnance Survey we might have a hope, but half the damned roads up there aren’t even shown here.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Warren.

  Ben did not know, and they all idled in low gear.

  Andy Tozier had a problem—a minor problem, true—but still a problem, and it puzzled him mightily. He was losing money steadily to Johnny Follet and he could not see how the trick was worked. The money he lost was not much when considered against the number of games played, but the steady trickle annoyed him.

  He spoke to Warren about it. ‘On the face of it, it’s a fair game—I can’t see how he does it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust Johnny to play a fair game,’ said Warren. ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘It goes like this. We each have a coin, and we match coins. We don’t toss them, so the element of chance is eliminated as far as that goes—we each have control as to whether we show a head or a tail. Got that?’

  ‘It seems all right so far,’ said Warren cautiously.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tozier. ‘Now, if I show heads and he shows tails he pays me thirty pounds. If I show tails and he shows heads he pays me ten pounds.’

  Warren thought about it. ‘Those are two of the four possible occurrences.’

  ‘Right!’ said Tozier. ‘The other two occurrences are both heads or both tails. If either of those happen I pay him twenty pounds.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Warren, and scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘There are four possible cases of which you can win two and he can win two. Taking all four cases as equal—which they are—if they all happen you will win forty pounds—and so will he. It seems a fair game to me.’ It also seemed a childish game but that he did not say.

  ‘Then why the hell is he winning?’ demanded Tozier. ‘I’m nearly a hundred pounds down already.’

  ‘You mean to say that you never win?’

  ‘Oh, no. I win games and so does he—but he wins more often. It’s a sort of see-saw, but he seems to have more weight than I have and my money tends to roll towards him. The thing that makes me wild is that I can’t figure the gimmick.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d better stop playing.’

  ‘Not until I find out how he does it,’ said Tozier determinedly. ‘The thing that gets me is that it isn’t as though he could ring in a double-headed penny—that wouldn’t help him. Hell, it would make it worse for him because then I’d know what he was calling and I’d act accordingly.’ He grinned. ‘I’m willing to go another hundred just to find the secret. It’s a profitable game—I could use it myself if I knew how.’

  ‘It seems as though you’ll have plenty of time to play,’ said Warren acidly. ‘We’re getting nowhere here.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Tozier. ‘I’ve had an idea. What about that pharmaceutical place where Speering ordered his supplies? They’d deliver the stuff, wouldn’t they? So they must have an address somewhere in their records. All we have to do is to extract it somehow.’

  Warren looked at him wearily. ‘Are you suggesting a burglary?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  I’ve thought of it, too,’ admitted Warren. ‘But just tell me one thing. How the devil are we going to recognize what we want even if we see it? These people keep records in Persian, which is a foreign language to begin with, and in Arabic script which none of us can read. Could you sort it out, Andy?’

  ‘Hell, I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Tozier. ‘My colloquial Arabic isn’t bad but I can’t read the stuff.’ He looked up. ‘Do you mind if I talk to Johnny about this?’

  Warren hesitated. ‘Not as long as you stick to generalities. I don’t want him knowing too much.’

  ‘I won’t tell him more than he ought to know. But it’s about time he was put to work. He’s a good con man and if we can’t get the information in any other way then perhaps we can get it by Johnny’s fast talk.’

  So Tozier talked to Johnny Follet and Johnny listened. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Give me a couple of days and I’ll see what I can come up
with.’ He disappeared into the streets of Tehran and they did not see him for four days. When he came back he reported to Tozier, ‘It can be done. It’ll take a bit of fooling around, but it can be done. You can have the information in less than a week.’

  II

  Follet’s plan was so diabolical that it raised the hairs on the back of Warren’s head. He said, ‘You’ve got an evil mind, Johnny.’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Follet insouciantly. ‘There’s a part for everyone—the more the merrier. But for Christ’s sake take it seriously; it’s got to look good and real.’

  Tell me more about this man.’

  ‘He’s assistant to the Chief Clerk in the Stores Department of the company. That means he issues goods against indents and keeps the books on quantities. He’s just the guy to have the information you need—or to be in a position to get it. There’s no money involved because he never handles it; all that is done by the main office. That’s a pity in a way because we lose a chance of really hooking him.’

  ‘Why don’t we just bribe him?’ asked Tozier.

  ‘Because the guy’s honest, that’s why—or a reasonable facsimile. Suppose we tried to bribe him and it didn’t take? He’d report to his bosses and the information would be whisked out of that office so fast that we wouldn’t get another chance at it. And they might tell the police and then we’d be in trouble.’

  ‘They might not tell the police,’ said Warren. ‘We don’t know how much this firm is involved with Speering, but it’s my guess that it’s in on the whole thing. It must be. Any firm issuing certain chemicals and equipment has a damned good idea of what they’ll be used for. It’s my guess that this crowd is in it up to its collective neck.’

  ‘What thing?’ asked Follet alertly.

  ‘Never mind, Johnny; carry on with what you were saying.’

  Follet shrugged. ‘This guy—Javid Raqi—is a bright boy. He speaks English well, he’s had a good education and he’s ambitious. I guess that chief clerk won’t last long with friend Javid on his heels. He has only one flaw—he’s a gambler.’