He nodded and picked up the picture of Robinson. ‘How accurate is this?’
‘I really don’t know,’ I said candidly. ‘But it’s the best Cassie Cunningham and I could do. She said it’s difficult for a painter to depict an image in someone else’s mind’s eye.’
‘Very well put.’ Perigord picked up his hat. ’Now, there is just one last matter. You came back from Texas without a passport. Well, that’s all right because we know the reason. But you came back with six Americans, two of whom are in your home though not, I suspect, as house guests; three are billeted in the Royal Palm Hotel, and the sixth is sitting in your outer office at this moment. We checked their passports very carefully and what did we find on further enquiry? All six are members of the security section of the Cunningham Corporation. Mr Mangan, if you have fears for your own safety or the safety of your wife you should come to me, and not import a private army.’
‘My wife is dear to me.’
‘I understand that.’ He stood up. ‘But I would like to see Mr Walker now.’
I eyed Perigord with respect; he even had the identification down pat. I called in Walker and introduced them. Perigord said, ‘Mr Walker, we encourage Americans to come to our island; you are our bread and butter. But we don’t like firearms. Are you armed, sir?’
Walker said, ‘Uh…’ He glanced at me.
‘Tell him,’ I said.
‘Well…er…yes, I am.’
Perigord held out his hand without saying a word and Walker took a pistol from a holster clipped to his belt and handed it over. Perigord put it into his pocket where it made an unsightly bulge and spoiled the line of his uniform. He picked up his swagger stick. ‘You and your friends may stay, Mr Walker, even though I have the power to deport you. But all your firearms must be delivered to my office before midday today.’ He raised the swagger stick in a semi salute. ‘Good day, Mr Mangan. I’ll let you know of any developments.’
As the door closed Walker said, ‘A swagger stick, yet! Is he for real?’
‘He had you tagged the moment you got off the JetStar. He knows who you are and what you do. I wouldn’t underestimate Perigord.’
‘What do we do about the guns?’
‘You do exactly as he says. What have you got? A pistol each?’
‘Yeah. And a couple of Armalite rifles.’
‘My God! Let Perigord have the lot. You’ll get them back when you leave.’ I had the impression that Walker and his friends would feel stripped naked.
While not neglecting Debbie I buckled down to getting the Theta Corporation back into shape. Not that there was much wrong—I had a good staff—but when the boss takes an enforced vacation things tend to loosen and the system becomes sloppy. So I did the necessary tightening here and there to tune the organization.
One of the things I did was to transfer Jack Fletcher to the Sea Gardens Hotel on New Providence. The manager there had broken his leg and was out of action, and Philips, the under manager, was a new boy, so I thought it wise to send Fletcher. The point is that I went with him to introduce him to the staff. It was to be a quick trip because I did not want to spend time away from Debbie. Although Cora and Addy had brought over a crowd of kids and were company for Debbie I wanted to get back quickly.
Bobby Bowen flew us to Nassau and Steve Walker came along, too. During this period he was never more than ten feet away from me at any moment, and there would be only one door between us, if that. If Jack Fletcher noticed that Walker stuck closer to me than my shadow he made no comment.
After the round of introductions were over we sat in the manager’s office to tidy up a few last details. There were minor differences in running the two hotels and I wanted to be sure that Fletcher knew of them. The manager’s office at the Sea Gardens is immediately behind the reception desk in the lobby and one wall is of glass—glass with a difference.
From the customer’s point of view when standing in the lobby the wall behind the reception desk is fitted with a big mirror. Mirrors are important in hotel design because they give a sense of space, spurious though it may be. But this mirror is of trick, one-way glass so that the manager, sitting at his desk, can see what is happening in the lobby while being unobserved himself.
So it was that, while chatting with Fletcher, I happened to look out idly at the reception desk and beyond. There was the usual scene, a combination of idleness and bustle. Small groups of tourists stood about chatting, and bellhops were bringing in the baggage of a newly arrived tour group. Philips said they had just come from Italy. Everything was normal. At the cashier’s desk there was a short queue of departing visitors doing what the whole business was about—they were paying.
There was something about the third man in the queue that interested me. I thought I knew him but could not recollect ever having met him. He was tall with greying hair and had a neatly trimmed moustache and a short beard. I stood up, went closer to the window, and stared at him. He did what many do—he looked at his reflection in the mirror and straightened his tie. For a moment he stared directly into my eyes; his own were green flecked with yellow, and I had looked into those eyes before when lying helpless in the lobby of the Cunningham Building.
I swung around. ‘Jack, see that man with the beard? I want him held up—delayed until I can find out who he is.’
Fletcher looked surprised. ‘How?’
‘Double his bill. Say it’s a computer error and spend a long time rectifying it. But keep him there.’ Fletcher shot off, and I said to Philips, ‘Go with him. I want the man’s name, room number, home address, where he came from, where he’s going, and anything else you can find out about him. But be tactful. And quick.’
Walker joined me at the window. ‘What’s the panic?’
‘That’s one of Robinson’s friends,’ I said grimly. ‘He had no beard when I last saw him, but there’s no disguising those eyes and that big nose. When he leaves I want you to stick close to him.’ I thought for a moment. ‘How much money have you got on you?’
‘I don’t really know. A couple of hundred bucks, maybe.’
‘You might need more. There’s no knowing where he might go.’ I took a cash voucher from the desk, scribbled a figure and added my signature. ‘The cashier will honour this.’
Walker took the slip and gave a low whistle. ‘Five thousand dollars!’
‘He might be flying to Europe, damn it! Ask for American dollars or you might be stuck with Bahamian.’
‘If I’m going to tail the guy I’d better not join that line at the desk,’ he said.
‘True. Stay here until Philips comes back. He can get the cash from behind the desk.’
We watched the comedy at the cashier’s desk. My friend, the phoney doctor, moved up to the counter and presented his room key with a smile. There was a bit of dumb show and then the bill was presented. He glanced at it, then frowned, prodded at it with his forefinger, and pushed it back across the counter. The cashier made some chat and called over Jack Fletcher who now came into sight.
Walker said, ‘If he pays by credit card we can trace him through the number.’
I nodded. Fletcher was making voluble apologies with much gesturing. He held up one hand in a placatory manner and disappeared from view. Two minutes later he walked into the office followed by Philips. ‘His name is Carrasco—Dr Luis Carrasco.’
‘So he really is a doctor,’ I commented. ‘Nationality?’
‘Venezuelan.’
‘Where is he going?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Fletcher. ‘I’ve only spoken to him for about three minutes. He said he had a plane to catch and would I make it short.’
‘I know where he’s going,’ said Philips. ‘He used our inter-hotel booking service. He’s flying to Freeport and he’s staying at the Royal Palm. He’s booked in for a week.’
‘Damned cheek!’ I said, and looked at Carrasco. He was standing at the desk wearing a preoccupied expression and tapping restlessly with his fingers.
�
��He’ll probably be flying Bahamasair,’ said Fletcher, glancing at his watch. ‘There’s a flight in an hour.’
‘He booked a hire car to await him at Freeport International,’ said Philips.
‘One of ours?’
‘Yes.’
I looked at Walker. ‘Can we bug that car? I mean, do we have the facilities handy?’
Walker shook his head. ‘No, but we can have Rodriguez in Freeport in under four hours.’
‘Make the phone call, direct to Billy Cunningham. Tell him it’s bloody urgent.’
Walker picked up the telephone, and Fletcher said curiously, ‘What’s all this about, Tom?’
‘Something that Commissioner Perigord will want to know about.’ I had made one mistake with Perigord and another was unthinkable. ‘What room did Carrasco have?’
Philips said, ‘Three-one-six.’
‘Have it locked and sealed. We can get fingerprints.’ Walker heard that and nodded vigorously. I picked up the voucher which Walker had laid on the desk and tore it up; he would not need that now.
‘How long do we keep Carrasco hanging about?’ asked Fletcher.
‘You can let him go as soon as Walker has finished his call and got a Bahamasair ticket to Freeport.’ There was a travel agency in the lobby, so I said to Philips, ‘Get that now and debit it to hotel expenses.’
Carrasco had interrupted a transaction between another client and the cashier; he was obviously arguing and was tapping his wristwatch meaningfully. Walker put down the telephone. ‘Fixed,’ he said. ‘Rodriguez is coming over in the JetStar with a bag of gadgets.’
The minutes ticked by and Carrasco was becoming increasingly irritable. When I saw Philips walking across the lobby with an air ticket in his hand I said, ‘Okay, let him go now. Many apologies, and tell him his taxi fare to the airport is on us as compensation for the trouble we’ve caused him. Do a grovel.’
Fletcher shrugged and left as Philips came in and gave Walker the ticket. ‘Get a taxi for Mr Walker and have it standing by,’ I said, and picked up the telephone to ring Perigord.
As I waited for him to come on the line I saw Jack Fletcher doing his obsequious act in a smarmy manner and I hoped he was not laying it on too thick. He escorted Carrasco to the door and Walker nodded to me and left without saying a word.
I got Perigord and told him what was happening. I said, ‘I don’t want this man alarmed because we haven’t got Robinson yet. Carrasco could lead us to him.’
‘At last you are using the brains you undoubtedly possess,’ said Perigord, and promised to have a discreet escort awaiting Carrasco at the airport.
I told him that Walker was on the same flight, then said, ‘One last thing; there’ll be an American called Rodriguez coming in on the Cunningham JetStar later today. I don’t want the Customs holding him up by taking a too close interest in his bags. Can you arrange that?’
‘Not if he’s bringing firearms,’ said Perigord. ‘You know that.’
‘No firearms—my guarantee,’ I promised. ‘He’s an electronics expert—I’ll tell you about him later.’
Perigord agreed. I told him I’d be flying back immediately, then hung up and sat at Fletcher’s desk and pondered. Was I right? I had seen him only for a matter of seconds, and I had been in a drugged condition at the time. But it had been very close up. Was I right in staking that he was Carrasco? Staking everything on the colour of a man’s eyes and the size of his nose?
I thought I was right. The recent painting session with Cassie Cunningham had clarified my mind and etched that face into my mind’s eye. But if I was wrong and Perigord laid on an elaborate operation to no good purpose then he would have an even lower opinion of me than ever.
Fletcher came back, and I asked, ‘What’s Carrasco’s credit card number?’
‘He paid cash. Just dug out his wallet and paid in hundred dollar bills, American. It didn’t empty the wallet, either.’
‘How much was the bill?’
‘A little over 1100 dollars. He used the restaurant a lot and his bar bill wasn’t small. Then there was the car rental charge.’
I leaned back in the chair. ‘Jack, you’ve been in this business quite a time. When was the last time you can remember that a bill like that was paid in cash?’
‘It’s happened a few times,’ he said. ‘Not many, though. Usually when a man has cleaned up at the casino—he gets paid out in cash so he pays his bill in cash. But that’s usually in Bahamian dollars.’
‘I don’t think Carrasco is a gambler,’ I said meditatively. ‘Not that kind, anyway. I’ll take a copy of the bill with me.’ I felt much more confident and happy.
TWENTY-ONE
I flew back to Freeport and went to see Perigord immediately. He had Inspector Hepburn with him, and he came quickly to the point. ‘Tell us more about this man Carrasco.’
I did not do that. Instead, I looked at Inspector Hepburn, and asked, ‘Do you still think this is about cocaine?’
Perigord said, ‘Yes, we do.’
‘Well, I don’t. Both Kayles and Robinson seemed surprised when I brought up the subject.’
‘They would,’ said Hepburn. ‘They were not likely to admit it, were they?’
I said, ‘To my mind their surprise was genuine. It took them aback.’
‘But we don’t have your mind,’ said Perigord. ‘I doubt if you would consider yourself an expert on the way criminals behave when confronted.’
I saw I was getting nowhere pursuing that line; their minds were made up. ‘What do you want to know about Carrasco?’
‘Everything,’ Perigord said succinctly.
‘He kidnapped me from the Cunningham Building,’ I said. ‘And…’ ’
Perigord held up his hand. ‘You’re sure it’s the same man?’
I hesitated. ‘Not one hundred per cent, but near enough. I don’t trust people who pay large bills in cash.’ I told them of what had happened and put a copy of the bill on Perigord’s desk.
Perigord, too, found that odd. We thrashed it out a bit, then he said, ‘Mr Mangan, can we trust your American friends?’
‘In what way?’
‘Can we trust them to stick to surveillance, but not to take action in the matter of Carrasco? Our police force is relatively small and I would welcome their help in keeping tabs on Carrasco, but not to the extent of their taking violent action. That I can’t permit.’
‘They’ll do exactly as I tell them.’
‘Very well. I have talked to Mr Walker and he has Carrasco under observation at this moment; and is to report to my man at your hotel. Why is Rodriguez coming, and what is he carrying?’ I told him and he smiled. ‘Yes, I think we can do with scientific aid.’
Hepburn said, ‘There’s something I don’t understand. If Carrasco kidnapped you in Houston isn’t he taking a risk by walking openly about your hotels? He could bump into you at any time. In fact, you did spot him—or so you think.’ He glanced at Perigord. ‘To my mind this may be a case of mistaken identification. Mr Mangan admits he only saw the man in Houston for a few seconds.’
‘What do you say to that?’ asked Perigord.
‘It’s been puzzling me, too,’ I said. ‘But I’m ninety-five per cent convinced it’s the same man.’
‘Nineteen chances out of twenty in favour of you being correct,’ he mused. ‘Those are odds I can live with. We’ll watch Dr Carrasco.’
Driving from the police station to the hotel I thought of what Hepburn had said, and came to the conclusion that it could cut both ways. If Carrasco had been the man in Houston then perhaps he was willing to take the chance of me seeing him because I had seen him for only a few seconds. In those circumstances perhaps he thought a beard and moustache were sufficient disguise. As I switched between alternatives my mind felt like a yo-yo.
A good hotel has two circulatory systems, one for the clientele which is luxuriously furnished, and the other for the staff which has a more spartan décor; and in the best hotels the two systems are
mutually exclusive because one does not want maintenance traffic to erupt into the public rooms. When I got back to the hotel I stuck to the staff system because I wanted to keep out of the way of Carrasco.
Walker reported on Carrasco and related affairs. ‘He’s holed up in his room; probably unpacking. Rodriguez will be here in about two hours; I’ll have a man at the airport to meet him. Perigord has a man here in the hotel, and he assigned another to your house to guard your wife.’ He scratched the angle of his jaw, and added sourly, ‘They’re both armed.’
‘They’re entitled to be,’ I said. ‘You’re not.’ It was good of Perigord to think of Debbie. ‘You’re not to lay a finger on Carrasco. Just watch him and report on who he talks to.’
‘Can we tap his room telephone?’
‘It’s probably illegal but we’ll do it. I’ll have a word with the switchboard operator. Carrasco might speak Spanish; do we have anyone who can cope with that?’
‘One—two when Rodriguez comes.’
‘That should be enough. Any problems, let me know.’ We knocked it around a bit more, trying to find angles we had forgotten, did not find any and left it at that.
For the next three days nothing happened. Carrasco had no visitors to his room and used his telephone only for room service and for restaurant bookings. Rodriguez bugged his Car and his room, and put a tape recorder on the telephone tap so that we had a record of his conversations, but we got little joy out of that. A search of Carrasco’s possessions brought nothing; he carried with him just what you would expect of a man on holiday.
Debbie wondered audibly about the muscular young black who had been imported into the house to help Luke Bailey, who did not need it, and who was making good time with Addy Williams. She knew about Walker’s crew and I saw no reason to keep from her the knowledge that this addition to the household was one of Perigord’s cops. ‘I’d like you to keep to the house as much as possible,’ I said.
‘How long will we have to live like this?’ she said desolately. ‘Being in a state of siege isn’t exactly fun.’
I did not know the answer to that, but I said, ‘It will blow over soon, I expect.’ I told her about Carrasco. ‘If we can use him to nail Robinson I think it will be finished.’
Wyatt's Hurricane / Bahama Crisis Page 49