by Andrew Hill
Between the car checks he thought deeply about what he had said to Collette. He seemed amazed by the words he had used and tried to repeat them in his mind but failed. He found thinking straight difficult. He literally shook himself and put it down to tiredness. He thought of calling Tyler but rejected the idea. There was something timeless and unthreatening about being there. "Time enough for other people's schedules," he thought aloud. "It's the last run, this. From here on the running stops and it's back to responsibility." A hint of sadness underscored the words. The freedom he felt, despite the past dangers, was a tremendously valuable feeling. One to be treasured. Precious moments.
How long he had stood there, he didn't know. He had not been asleep - he couldn't have been, outside, in the road, standing up. And yet he blinked - as one might when first waking. For a moment the surroundings seemed unfamiliar. Then he saw his own car and then the little Kadett over the road. Collette still seemed to be dozing and he smiled wistfully.
The dim interior lights of an old bus came into view on the hairpin at the bottom of the hill. The ancient vehicle crawled up the hill and turned into the car park, stopping a few yards away from him. The murky interior looked all the more so through dusty windows, streaked where overhanging bushes had brushed its side to expose pale blue and white paintwork. Its diesel engine clattered then was silenced by the driver. A few workers stepped out of the opening front door and sauntered off to the refreshment bar in their dark blue overalls and thick black jackets.
Chris's eyes turned to the slow progress of another figure, standing near the back. The grime prevented further examination and he looked back at a car arriving at the tunnel. He began to approach it when footsteps on the stones behind him made him hesitate. Not this time the cheery brightness of old. Not this time the nervous laugh or comment. Just the familiar words:
"Hello Smiley." spoken in a tired and sadly calm way, but in the unmistakable accent he had grown to know so well.
"Hello Bob."
"Don't suppose there's any chance of a lift, is there?" asked Bob.
"Where are you going?" asked Chris.
"Home." said Bob. His dark grey suit was creased and shabby. In one hand he carried a black briefcase, the other was thrust in his pocket. Another case stood on the ground. A red and white striped tie was wrapped untidily round the neck of a bright pink shirt. "Even put my best shirt and tie on for you," he said, trying to smile and succeeding when Chris responded with a grin.
"Sure, Bob. Come on, give me that case." He grabbed the case and put his arm round the American. They walked slowly across the road. Bob held up his hand as if to stop the traffic on a busy street. The solitary car coming up the hill veered around the pair, blowing its horn. The two laughed. Collette had woken up and was now standing by the car. Her eyes caught Chris's before making any gesture. Finding swift reassurance in his gaze, she held out her hand.
"Good evening, Mr Lindon," she said, the words formal but the inflection sensitive. Bob was not offended and reacted by kissing the outstretched hand and replying in similar vein.
"And good evening to you. Collette, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Just like Chris described you . . ." Bob started.
"But I didn't mention anything about her." interrupted Chris.
"You didn't have to. She's lovely. Sorry I'm not my usual self, folks." Bob apologised.
"Don't worry," said Collette. "We understand."
Chris was about to get into the car when he realised that it would be his own that they wanted now.
"Hey! We're in the wrong car! I'll call the hire company to arrange for this one to be collected. Collette - if you give these to the frontier people and explain, I'll take the things over to our car."
The confusion brought everyone back to life a little, and eased the unspoken strain. "I ought to make a couple of calls, too, Bob," he said.
"Go ahead. No hurry for me. No hurry now." Bob replied. Chris realised that the American was making a very brave effort still. He would not push him, preferring to leave him in peace and said nothing. When Collette returned, he caught her before she got close to the car and whispered.
"Don't say anything to bother him. Please. It'll all come out in time."
Colette nodded. Chris strode across to the Customs office and asked if he could use a phone. They directed him to a public phone in a corner and he dialled the number Maria had given him. A girl answered in German but switched to excellent English when Chris spoke.
"Message for Michaelis Ziparis -” he started.
"Yes, sir. Go ahead."
"Collected our mutual friend at . . ." he looked at his watch, “. . . 1:10am." The lateness amazed him and he checked the clock on the wall to confirm it. "Yes, that's right, 1:10. No problem. All well. Leaving for England now. Will contact on return. In the meantime, please call John Tyler. He had a problem last night. Outcome unknown but important. Please enquire. Will call this number to collect message on way home. Regards, Chris."
Chapter LVIII Papers
Michaelis listened as Tyler explained the series of events that had taken place. "So where did you put his things?" he asked, when Tyler paused.
"Oh, they're on the table - in the hall." said Tyler, casually. "I forgot all about them. I suppose the police will come and take them away anyway. I'm bound to be suspect number one again," he added.
"For Christ's sake look at the papers!" shouted Michaelis. His eyes flashed at Maria, who stood by the wall nearby in a modern, but somewhat shabby, hotel room.
"I think our job's nearly done, Micki," she said to him.
Michaelis nodded and gently replaced the receiver. "We'll let Tyler do the rest. He's no fool."
Maria undressed and climbed into one of the two single beds in the room. Michaelis pulled the cord above his bed and the room was dark, except for a chink of pale moonlight catching the wall behind him.
Chapter LIX C J Lindon
Tyler picked up the watch. Gold-plated, Swiss, 17 jewels, still running. He wound it, out of habit. He turned it over in this palm then froze. "Bloody hell!" he murmured as he read the inscription on the back.
CJL
To a beautiful son
Now twenty-one
July 26, 1973
He snatched at the bundle of papers. "Oh no . . . it can't be . . ." His voice was trembling as he read the letter, scratchily written in a once familiar hand:
Son,
Thanks for making out your will as I asked. The notarized copy is enclosed. Your mother and I both pray to God that those doctors over in England can do something and I sure know it must be hard for you now. Our thoughts are always with you and I guess you won't understand why we can't be with you just yet. Our work is nearly done. We'll be by your side very soon.
Your ever loving
Pa
In a brown envelope was a single white sheet headed Last Will and Testament.
I Christopher Jacob Lindon, of Court, Belvedere Drive, Philadelphia, United State of America, being of sound mind hereby bequeath to Christopher James Austin, of 48 Bancroft Road, Newbury, Berkshire, England, the sum of $5,000,000 (five million dollars) to be dealt with at his sole and absolute discretion, the balance of my estate, including the proceeds from the sale of . . .
He stopped reading and put the papers down. Resting against the table now with one hand, he picked up the wallet with the other. Fumbling inside, he gently pulled out a photograph. Slightly creased with the black and white fading to grey-brown, he found himself staring at a young, but very recognisable face of Robert K Lindon.
Chapter LX Fade
The slate-grey Opel Monza sped through the Austrian Alps. Even at night, the presence of the sheer immensity of the dark mountains could be felt. The road wound round and down as the car passed the shining Millstätter See with specks of light on the distant shore shimmering in the night cloud.
Collette moved her hand to rest on the fingers that held the gearshift, interlocking hers with them. Sh
e left them there as the driver changed into top gear, deliberately and with care. She tightened slightly her grip as she felt the shaft engage and the almost unnoticeable pressure of yet higher speed push her back into the firm seat.
She looked up in the small mirror in the sun visor and watched the smoke from her cigarette curl up then fade and slowly reveal the tears, caught in the cruel lights of a passing car, on the lined and drawn face of a sixty-year-old American.
THE END
Table of Contents
Contents 3
Foreword 6
Chapter I A Death In Surburbia 7
Chapter II Pieces 8
Chapter III Past 10
Chapter IV Spirit 11
Chapter V Riddles 12
Chapter VI Another Death 13
Chapter VII Mistaken Identity 15
Chapter VIII Hit-and-run 16
Chapter IX Hi There, Smiley 17
Chapter X Plans 21
Chapter XI To France 27
Chapter XII Monza To Switzerland 28
Chapter XIII June 32
Chapter XIV Mrs Reilly 34
Chapter XV Collette and Gill 35
Chapter XVI Sally 39
Chapter XVII Girls Alone 40
Chapter XVIII News 42
Chapter XIX Evelyn 43
Chapter XX Cut! 44
Chapter XXI Lunch 49
Chapter XXII Time To Think 50
Chapter XXIII Kos 52
Chapter XXIV Misdirection 59
Chapter XXV Talking To Gill 60
Chapter XXVI Followed 62
Chapter XXVII Tina 66
Chapter XXVIII Take Me Out 68
Chapter XXIX Brian 69
Chapter XXX Harry 72
Chapter XXXI Diplomatic Immunity 75
Chapter XXXII Break In 77
Chapter XXXIII A Sense Of Danger 78
Chapter XXXIV Something Else 80
Chapter XXXV Attack 81
Chapter XXXVI Which Mr Lindon? 84
Chapter XXXVII Harry’s Story 86
Chapter XXXVIII Coma 87
Chapter XXXIX Escape 88
Chapter XL The Bourbon Run 92
Chapter XLI The Chase 95
Chapter XLII Believe 101
Chapter XLIII Violet 103
Chapter XLIV Perfume 106
Chapter XLV Mountains 117
Chapter XLVI Mr & Mrs Canterbury 119
Chapter XLVII Ill 121
Chapter XLVIII Ten Bob 122
Chapter XLIX Folk Singer 126
Chapter L Set Up 131
Chapter LI Collette’s Drive 135
Chapter LII Gone 138
Chapter LIII Hazy Horizon 139
Chapter LIV One Of The Two 140
Chapter LV Farewell Maria 143
Chapter LVI Welcome Collette 146
Chapter LVII Familiar Words 149
Chapter LVIII Papers 151
Chapter LIX C J Lindon 152
Chapter LX Fade 153