They got into the elevator together. Anna pressed the button for the first floor. The doors closed, and the elevator rose. She was pale and tense. He said: ‘There’s nothing to it. This is your own deposit box.’
The elevator stopped. The doors opened onto a corridor.
Through a door was a large room. A marble counter, with three clerks behind. At the end was a sliding grille. On this side of the counter were armchairs for clients. Morgan sat down. Anna walked to the counter. A clerk came.
‘I’d like to see my box please.’ She pulled the bunch of keys out of her handbag. ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten which it is.’
Morgan saw Anna sign a form. She produced her passport. The clerk went to a cabinet. Produced a card. He compared the form with the card. He returned to the counter and picked up the bunch of keys. He selected one.
‘It’ll be this one, madam.’ He pressed a buzzer. ‘Mr Fredericks will look after you.’
The grille slid back and Mr Fredericks appeared. ‘This way, madam.’
Morgan sat back. And massaged his thumb across his forehead.
Please God this is it Please God today this is all over … Mr Fredericks led her down an avenue of gleaming boxes. He stopped, inserted a master key and turned it. He motioned Anna to the box door. She inserted her key, and turned it. Mr Fredericks opened the little door. Inside was a metal box with a lid. Anna pulled it out.
‘This way, madam.’ Mr Fredericks led her on, to cubicles at the end of the avenue of boxes. He opened one. ‘The key is on the inside of the door, madam.’
‘Thank you.’ Anna went in. She closed the door and locked it. She felt shaky. She sat down at the little table.
She opened the lid of the box.
She was looking at a small cloth bag, with a drawstring.
She picked it up, and pulled open the string. And stared.
Her heart sank. The bag was half full of middle-sized, unset diamonds. She buried her finger into them, desperately feeling for a roll of microfilm beneath. There was none. She poured the diamonds out onto the table.
They made a small, glinting heap. She spread them out. Nothing. She looked feverishly into the bag again, as if it might be forced to yield up something more.
It yielded up an envelope.
It was folded, tucked down the side. She pulled it out and ripped it open.
It contained one sheet of paper. She fumbled it out.
It was a carbon copy of a hand-written note of three lines. It was on stationery, headed Banco Ambrosiana. It was in a stranger’s handwriting, in Italian. Banco Ambrosiana? God’s Banker’s bank.
Anna spoke only a smattering of Italian but she could’ understand the note. It was a receipt. It read:
Received from Banco Ambrosiana, for and on behalf of P2, the sum of one million dollars, in kind.
It was signed, M. Hapsburg.
Anna sat back. And held her head.
No microfilm …
She sat there a minute. Then she feverishly scooped up the diamonds, back into the bag. She put the receipt back in the box. She hesitated a moment, then shoved the bag of diamonds into her handbag. She got up and unlocked the door.
‘Mr Fredericks?’
She followed him back to her slot. She shoved the box back inside, locked the door. She hurried back to the sliding grille.
Morgan got to his feet, expectantly. And his heart sank at the expression on her face.
He sat in the armchair beside her, sick in his guts.
‘Anna, the time’s come for you to tell me what this microfilm is about. So I know what we’re up against.’
‘We’re up against the British government and the Russians.’
Morgan slapped his knee angrily and stood up. ‘So, we go to Switzerland.’
Anna grabbed his hand. She pulled him down beside her.
He sat again. She looked at him.
‘No, I’m on my own now.’ Morgan sighed angrily, and she continued resolutely: ‘Thank you, darling Jack. For every wonderful thing you’ve done. But I’m on my own from here on in. I’ve got Makepeace to help …’ She squeezed his hand hard. ‘I’m not exposing you to risk any further. I’m going to rethink this whole thing, and make my own decisions.’
For a moment he felt relief. ‘You mean you’re going to hand the whole problem over to the British authorities?’
She began to speak, and out of the corner of his eye Morgan saw the British authorities walk into the room.
He stared. I don’t believe it …’ he whispered.
Christopher Carrington, Captain of Submarines, was walking towards them, wreathed in his crooked smile. Behind him came Makepeace, looking very worried.
Morgan got to his feet, glaring, his heart knocking.
‘Good afternoon, Jack.’ Carrington walked up to them as if pleased with a prank he had played. ‘And this –’ he gave a little bow – ‘is the charming Mrs Hapsburg?’
‘Who the hell are you?’ Anna whispered.
Another little bow. ‘Christopher Carrington, Royal Navy, at your service, madam.’
Morgan gripped Anna’s arm to silence her, his mind racing. ‘How did you know we were here?’
‘Oh, you were very good,’ Carrington said reassuringly – ‘you had us running round the Caribbean for days. No, it was your side-kick here who let you down.’ He turned to Makepeace. ‘You’ll have to change your contact number, Douglas, if you want to keep it a trade secret. The Rose and Crown is old hat.’
Makepeace looked embarrassed. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Morgan hissed: ‘You don’t call this bastard sir, Makepeace! If you call anybody sir right now it’s me!’
‘Oh,’ Carrington went on, ‘you did all the right things, Jack. But as we thought you’d have to call on somebody like Douglas for a spot of help, we had him tapped. And all the others we know about. And with some nifty footwork we got the nearest public phones tapped too, in time to learn about the Brew and Burger. We followed him to the Royalton Hotel, without difficulty. And you would have foxed us there again, with that bunch of flowers. Except Douglas left your note behind in the hotel bedroom.’
‘Jesus, Makepeace …’ Morgan seethed.
‘And what do you want?’ Anna snapped.
Carrington said seriously: ‘I would like, please, what you came here today to get.’
‘Well you’re not getting it!’
Morgan rasped softly: ‘Get out of our way, Carrington. Or I’ll break your neck.’
‘Jack,’ Carrington said earnestly, ‘I am not alone. I have a goodly number of men outside –’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Morgan whispered – ‘a senior officer of the Royal Navy, acting on the orders of Her Majesty’s government, intends to rob an American citizen in an American bank! –’
‘Jack –’ Carrington interrupted urgently – ‘that is exactly what I’m not doing! I am asking for your cooperation – and Mrs Hapsburg’s. That is why they sent me along, as your former commanding officer! To avoid trouble, not provoke it. Jack – cooperate now, and relieve Mrs Hapsburg of a frightening responsibility – and danger, I might add – and the government will forget all this misunderstanding ever happened. Your deception in Trinidad, your breach of duty, this whole silly business. And you and Mrs Hapsburg will live happily ever after. You will even be reinstated in the Navy with full seniority and pension entitlements.’ He turned to Anna: ‘Mrs Hapsburg, I appeal to you –’
‘And if we refuse,’ Anna said furiously, ‘your men outside will rob us!’
‘No, madam,’ Carrington said earnestly. ‘All I have to do –’ he pointed at the counter – ‘is pick up that telephone. And within minutes the Cousins, the American authorities, will be here to take care of the matter. Officially.’
‘And I,’ Anna flashed, ‘have only to go to that same telephone and call the manager of this bank down here! And my lawyer! And the press! –’
Morgan interrupted venomously: ‘Bullshit, Carrington! The Americans would not d
are come into this bank and try to do anything “officially”. Because they’ve got no legal right to do so! Because Mrs Hapsburg has committed no offence in going to her own deposit box!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And Her Majesty’s government dare do absolutely nothing about my so-called deception in Trinidad! Because firstly, your detention of Mrs Hapsburg was illegal. And secondly because officially I took no part in the American invasion of Grenada, remember! I was Sergeant Jackson, remember! And Sergeant Jackson is dead and buried in Alaska! Sergeant Jackson doesn’t exist any more, to be punished! And our venerable Prime Minister has already officially and internationally protested to the American government about their invasion of Grenada, remember! So how can she now admit that she sent her dear and loyal subject, Jack Morgan, to take part in it dressed up as Sergeant Jackson?’ He looked at Carrington with contempt, then held his finger up under the man’s nose: ‘Now get your lily-white arse outside, Carrington, and tell your gorillas to go home. And tell Her Majesty and Ronald Reagan to leave us alone! Or else.’
Carrington studied his pipe. Then put it between his teeth. ‘Or else what?’
‘Or else, apart from breaking your neck, we’ll blow this shameful story sky-high!’
Carrington snatched his pipe out of his mouth. ‘Jack,’ he implored – ‘I am here on a diplomatic mission, and my gorillas, as you quaintly call them, are not here to rob you, but to protect you – as we leave this bank. From the Russians, Jack.’
Morgan stared at him. So did Anna. Carrington hurried on with his advantage: ‘The KGB –’ he pointed in the direction of the street – ‘are also waiting outside, Jack.’
Morgan snapped: ‘How would they know we’re here?’
‘I don’t know – they haven’t taken me into their confidence. Perhaps they knew that this was one of Mr Hapsburg’s banks. Or perhaps they’ve been following me.’
‘Have you seen them outside?’
‘Do you know,’ Carrington turned to Anna, ‘that a member of the Russian embassy visited your house only hours after your husband was killed?’
‘No,’ Morgan snapped before Anna could answer. His heart was knocking. ‘What makes you think so?’
Carrington looked at Anna significantly. Then at Morgan.
‘Fresh tyre marks, on the drive outside the front door. And bloodstains. And fingerprints.’ He raised his eyebrows: ‘The tyre marks matched exactly the tyres of a Russian vehicle found in town nearby. With a dead Russian in it. His blood group matched that of bloodstains found in Mrs Hapsburg’s bathroom. So were his fingerprints to be found. And …’ he raised his eyebrows again, ‘Mrs Hapsburg’s fingerprints – or what we believe to be Mrs Hapsburg’s, because they are to be found on things like her hairbrush – were found in the dead Russian’s car.’
Anna was staring at him, white-faced. ‘I know nothing about all that!’
‘I’m sure you don’t, ‘dear lady.’ Carrington gave a little bow. ‘But, of course, our Red friends are rather upset about losing such a promising member of their diplomatic corps. And once the dust settles in Grenada there’re bound to be all kinds of investigations. And –’ he frowned wearily – ‘complaints. Of course, one dead Russian is neither here nor there – the more the better, some heartless souls may say – but of course, the Americans do have this evidence and they must be seen to do the right thing if there’s an official Russian complaint about their awful dead comrade. They can’t have the Russians accusing the American soldiery of doing it, can they? Besides –’ he glanced at his pipe – ‘the ballistic evidence shows that the poor man was killed with a shot fired from a weapon which is not standard US military equipment.’ He glanced at Anna. ‘It could have been fired from a Smith and Wesson. And I believe your husband had such a weapon? A firearm licence to that effect was found in your house.’
Anna started to protest and Morgan cut in furiously: ‘Have you seen Russians waiting outside?’
Carrington turned to him. ‘Yes. We expected nothing less. Nor did you. That’s why you got Dougie Makepeace over here. But’ – he shook his head – ‘you haven’t got enough manpower, Jack. So I urge you to accept our safe-conduct. And come with us to a place of safety. Where we can discuss all this sensibly.’
‘Well we’re not going!’ Anna snapped.
Morgan squeezed her arm. ‘Where’s this place of safety?’
‘The British consulate.’
‘Good. So send your gorillas to sort out the KGB gorillas on our behalf. And Her Majesty’s.’
Carrington shook his head patiently. ‘We can’t attack them unprovoked, old man. And the KGB men are dotted all over the place. There’s doubtless more. The Comrades aren’t short of muscle.’
‘You’ve got a walkie-talkie radio on you, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
Morgan squeezed Anna’s arm to silence her. ‘Okay. It’s a deal.’ He pointed. ‘We’re going downstairs. And you’re going to radio your gorillas, and tell them we’re coming out.’ He took a breath. ‘And all of us here are going to walk out of this bank together. And your gorillas are going to hold off the Comrades. Correct?’
‘Correct,’ Carrington said earnestly.
‘And then you,’ Morgan jabbed the man’s chest, ‘are coming with us to our car. Not to yours – to ours. Because you –’ he jabbed again – ‘are going to drive with us to the British consulate. You are going to be our hostage for the course of that journey. Is that agreed?’
Carrington’s eyes did not flicker.
‘Agreed,’ He added: ‘I come in peace.’
‘You’d better be, Carrington. Or you’ll go in pieces.’ He glared: ‘Okay. Now go.’
Carrington turned towards the door.
25
They came out of the bank, into the cold grey afternoon.
Makepeace was walking in front with Carrington; Anna was behind them, then came Morgan. He swept his eyes up and down the street. There were people hurrying in all directions. He saw only one man standing still, studying a street map. A taxi was waiting at the kerb. Further down, a dispatch rider sat on a motorcycle. Further down the block was another stationary taxi. Makepeace and Carrington turned towards the post office. Spider’s car was parked there, the engine running. Morgan glanced over his shoulder. Nobody was immediately behind them. ‘Fast!’
They lengthened their stride. Ahead now was the corner of Church Street. ‘Give that corner a wide berth!’
Makepeace began to steer wide of it. Morgan glanced behind again. He saw two men busily striding up behind him, as if hurrying to catch a train. Two more men were behind them. He shouted ‘Watch out –’ and a man charged around the corner. Morgan grabbed Anna’s arm, and ran.
He looked wildly over his shoulder and he saw a man racing at Anna. He swung at him, and another man hit Morgan and he went staggering backwards and the man hit him again. In the guts, and he saw another fist swinging at him again and then suddenly the man disappeared, reeling, as one of Carrington’s men got him, and Morgan saw Anna being wrenched to her feet. He charged towards her, but Carrington got there first, and he hit her attacker with a karate chop. The man collapsed, and Anna scrambled up wildly, hair awry, and somebody else got Morgan. It was a glancing blow, and Morgan swung on him with all his might, for the guts, and the man crumpled. Morgan looked wildly for Anna and he saw Makepeace running with her across Church Street, Carrington plunging after them. He started to run and somebody tripped him and he sprawled. He started to scramble up and somebody grabbed his arm and wrenched it up behind his back – then suddenly his attacker collapsed, and a Cockney voice rasped Run, sir!
Morgan scrambled up and ran flat out across Church Street for the car. Anna was scrambling into the front seat and Makepeace was shoving Carrington into the back. The car was already moving, the engine roaring. Morgan flung himself into the back beside Carrington.
‘Go!’
He slammed the door as Spider swung the car out. It roared at the intersection and the lights were mercifully gree
n. Suddenly there was the wailing of a police siren. Outside the bank men were racing in different directions, people shouting. Spider roared the car into the intersection and Morgan saw the blue flashing police light midst the traffic a hundred yards away on the left. He looked the other way and saw one of the taxis lurch away from the kerb. Then the intersection was behind them in a jumbled flashing of people and lights and cars. Carrington panted:
‘Well done, chaps.’ He had a cut over his eye and his hair was awry. ‘Now do you believe me, Jack?’
Morgan rasped at Makepeace, ‘Blindfold him.’ He looked out of the rear window.
‘I beg your pardon? …’ Carrington panted indignantly.
‘Blindfold him! With his monogrammed handkerchief! And tie his hands behind his back with his tie.’
‘Now, listen here –’
Morgan snatched Carrington’s handkerchief out of his top pocket. He grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his head down. He shoved the handkerchief at Makepeace. ‘Do it!’ He twisted and looked back out of the rear window again.
‘Now dammit, Jack –’
The car was screaming down the road at fifty miles an hour, with cars swerving and people scattering. He saw the yellow taxi come swinging furiously into the intersection behind, then the police car doing the same from the opposite direction. And he saw them collide. There was a silent crash and the front of both vehicles rose into the air midst flying glass, and they crashed down onto their wheels again. Then another taxi came swerving around them, followed by the dispatch rider on the motorcycle.
‘Faster!’
The next intersection flashed by, cars and people scattering. Makepeace was tying the knot behind Carrington’s head. ‘I say –’ Carrington was protesting.
Morgan wrenched the tie off Carrington’s neck. ‘Wrists!’
‘I say,’ Carrington muffled ‘– this is a felony –’
‘You don’t say!’ Morgan rasped. ‘Faster!’ he snapped at Spider.
The car screamed down the block and the lights at the intersection turned red. Spider slammed his hand on the horn and trod harder on the accelerator. Cars began to enter the intersection from the south. Spider swung in ahead of them, the car heeling over and tyres squealing. He straightened out and went roaring up Third Avenue.
A Woman Involved Page 17