he ought to stick to, don’t you?’
*
The house in West Byfleet had cost seventeen fifty when it was built in ’36, Harper had acquired it for five and a half thousand in 1958, and now it was worth three times that much. Land hadn’t been at such a premium in the thirties, and in consequence, the garden was several times larger than its modern counterpart. Except for the rose beds, it was mostly lawn all the way down to the line of silver birch trees which concealed the railway cutting at the bottom. The house was right in the heart of the commuter belt and, if Harper had anything in common with his neighbours, it was that, like them, he normally caught the 8:18 up and the 6:25 down.
Edward Julyan faced Harper across the oval dining-table; an empty chair marked Muriel Harper’s place. Above their heads a pall of smoke eddied below the ceiling like cumulus in the sky, but unlike cumulus, it had a distinctly musty smell. The cigars which Harper had brought back from Amsterdam some three summers ago had lost their freshness.
Julyan said, ‘Muriel hasn’t lost her touch.’
‘What?’
‘The dinner, it was quite excellent.’
‘Oh yes—Muriel will be pleased.’
‘You’re very preoccupied.’
Harper’s smile was thin. ‘If you stood to lose half a million pounds in the morning,’ he said, ‘wouldn’t you be preoccupied?’
‘I would if the money belonged to me.’
‘I’m still responsible for it, and if anything goes wrong, I’m answerable to the Minister. I virtually guaranteed that if we went along with Drabble, we would catch the defector.’
Julyan examined his cigar. ‘If there is a defector,’ he said. ‘After all, it is just possible that you are faced with a criminal conspiracy.’
Harper said, ‘Tarrant is the only person I can think of who has the know-how to set it up, and I don’t believe any man would deliberately torture his own son.’
Julyan said, ‘In my experience, the really big men in espionage are motivated by patriotism—your man is doing it for the money.’
‘And therefore he isn’t a spy? Is that what you’re implying?’
‘Who’s paying him? Not the Russians—you are, Cedric.’
‘Perhaps he remembers that the Germans paid Cicero off in forged five-pound notes,’ Harper said drily.
‘Do you know, that thought hadn’t occurred to me. You might have something.’
‘If I have it’s precious little.’
‘No, really, let’s assume you’re right, Cedric. Why did they pick on Tarrant out of all the members of the General Purpose Intelligence committee? Was he the only man with a son away at boarding school?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What is it about Tarrant that makes him so special?’ Julyan stubbed out his cigar. ‘If I were in your place, I would want to know everything about Tarrant—his friends, his financial status, his movements over the past few months—that sort of thing.’ Julyan smiled deprecatingly. ‘But I don’t have to give you any advice, Cedric, you’re an expert.’
‘I’ve never met an expert yet who couldn’t benefit from advice some time or another.’
‘Is Tarrant a ruthless man?’
‘He won a Military Cross in Aden.’
‘Well, there you are then.’
‘In my experience, Edward,’ Harper said mildly, ‘people who win medals for bravery are not necessarily ruthless. As a matter of fact, I spoke to Tarrant’s former commanding officer on the telephone this morning, and he gave me an interesting slant on Tarrant’s character. Amongst the terrorists he killed in an ambush was a boy of about thirteen. This boy was armed with a Kalashnikov and subsequent investigations proved beyond doubt that he had been firing it, but the interesting point is that Tarrant was torn with feelings of guilt. The boy, it appears, came out of a room with the gun in his hands while the shooting was still going on, and at the last minute, he apparently decided to surrender. Tarrant said that he shot him as he dropped the gun.’
Julyan said, ‘I don’t wish to sound cynical, but in making that limited confession, he pre-empted the subsequent enquiry, and at the same time won a great deal of sympathy for himself.’
Harper helped himself to another glass of brandy and then pushed the decanter across the table towards Julyan. ‘I remember an occasion during the war, Edward,’ he said, ‘when we were clearing this village in Sicily and the point platoon was about fifty yards in front of my company headquarters, when a young German from the Hermann Goering Division suddenly appeared in a side street. I watched, almost stupefied at his apparent audacity as he fired a burst from his Schmeisser into the backs of the leading platoon and knocked over a couple of my men. And then he saw the rest of the company and suddenly he realised that he had chosen the wrong moment and that, far from hitting the tail end, he’d only caught the leading elements. He hadn’t a hope in hell of getting away, so he threw his weapon aside, held up his hands and yelled kamerad for all he was worth. I grabbed my sergeant-major’s rifle, Edward, and I shot him, because you see, to my way of thinking, you can’t shoot a man in the back and then think you can surrender just because the going has got a little rough. The point is that, if he had stood his ground, I would probably have called on him to surrender.’
‘How old were you then, Cedric?’
‘Almost twenty. We’d taken a lot of casualties and I was the only surviving officer in the company, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I killed that German. However, unlike Tarrant, I didn’t lose any sleep over it, and in my view, it doesn’t matter whether the enemy is thirteen or thirty, the gun in his hands kills just the same. Tarrant has a conscience and that’s why I don’t believe he could set this thing up.’
Julyan said, ‘You’re probably right, Cedric. Anyway, you know him better than I do.’ He glanced surreptitiously at his wrist- watch. ‘Much as I would like to stay on,’ he said, ‘I think I must be leaving. The house is in a bit of a mess since Melissa went on holiday with the children.’
‘I thought you had a girl living in?’
‘The au pair went with Melissa.’
Harper thought that was typical of her. Melissa was young and attractive and good company but she could be extremely self- centred. As long as she was all right, no one else mattered. Almost as an afterthought, Julyan said, ‘Of course, we do have a daily, but she can’t walk the dog last thing at night and the odds are that he’s probably peeing all over the bloody kitchen this very minute.’
*
The love-hate relationship between CID and Special Branch had taken a turn for the better and Wray had Roscoe to thank for that; not that Roscoe had been able to tell them very much, but in throwing him their way, CID were duly grateful. It was a gesture which had cost Wray nothing but it had paid considerable dividends.
He sat there alone in the pub clutching his third large whisky and soda and the warm feeling inside him wasn’t entirely due to the alcohol. Wray had learned much in the mellowness of a partnership renewed. He now knew that the two men who had been murdered on Sunday had been identified as Goring and Findon, and a whisper was going around that they had been hired by The Contractor. They’d even built up an identikit picture of the man they thought was the last person to see Penfold alive, but as CID were the first to admit, the picture had its limitations— Gina (Secretarial Services) could not be expected to single out one man amongst all her clients with any degree of accuracy.
They expected to do a little better with James Stroud when they were allowed to question him in the morning, because all they’d got so far from the doctors was an idea of the hallucinations induced by LSD. The boy was great on rampant lions and red devils, especially red devils—he kept on about one big red devil in particular.
Wednesday had been a long hard day and Wray wasn’t at his best at the end of it, otherwise he might have appreciated the significance of the continual reference to red devils. Any child with an Action Man toy could have told him that it was a nickname bes
towed on the Parachute Regiment, but then Wray didn’t have any children.
Thursday
FIFTH DAY
9
THE BEA TRIDENT MADE ONLY AIRPORT IN ONE HOUR AND, IN THE ABSENCE of turbulence, it was a smooth ride. Even so, Tarrant failed to get any rest despite a lack of sleep the night before, which he had spent in the loneliness of his flat off Thessaly Road. The arrival of his mother-in-law had made it impossible for Tarrant to stay on with Alex because he wanted to avoid the inevitable acrimony which would have distressed her. Neither party set out with the intention of provoking the other, but somehow it happened just the same when mother and son-in- law met face to face.
They went through Customs and Immigration without any trouble, and Tarrant supposed that they had Harper to thank for that because it wasn’t every day that three men, each one of whom was carrying a Walther P38 in a shoulder holster, got off the London plane. And most certainly, it was unusual to see a man chained to a briefcase, but as far as the French were concerned, they appeared to accept it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
They left the airport in separate taxis, Drew and Vincent following Tarrant at a discreet distance. Tarrant sat in the Peugeot nursing the leather briefcase on his lap while he tried to conceal the length of chain which showed beneath his shirt cuff. From time to time, he moved his right hand across the surface of the briefcase to reassure himself that the diamonds were inside. It was unavailing because he had insisted on seeing the diamonds before they were locked away and naturally, that had annoyed Harper. Even now, Tarrant had a nasty feeling that the stones might just be paste. Logic told him that his fears were groundless but an over-active imagination still plagued him.
Two lines of traffic were coming up from the Boulevard Haussmann, but without warning, the taxi shot across in front of the nearside lane and stopped outside the Cercle National Des Armées. Drew and Vincent drove past the Officers’ Club and turned into the next side street on the right. Tarrant paid off the taxi and went inside, to be followed some minutes later by Drew and Vincent.
Their intention was to deceive the opposition but it failed to come off because Jarman had a grandstand view, and he had anticipated that they would try to conceal the fact that Tarrant had an escort. On that pleasantly warm morning in May, Jarman was just one of a number of people who had chosen to use the sidewalk tables outside the café, and from where he sat, he had an unimpeded view of the front entrance to the Cercle National Des Armées some fifteen yards away. His interest in the passing crowd appeared to be minimal and he seemed to be engrossed in the early morning edition of Le Figaro, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. Given the fact that he knew what to look for, spotting Vincent and Drew was not very difficult and there was something about them both which was so obviously English. The way they walked and the cut of their clothes betrayed them. He decided he would let them sweat it out for a bit before he telephoned the reception desk.
With its imposing entrance, crystal chandeliers and the sweeping staircase which led to the floors above, the Club had all the grandeur reminiscent of the First Empire, and Tarrant, seated at one of the tables in the foyer, felt insignificant. Drew and Vincent who were seated at another table also looked ill at ease under the gaze of the clerks behind the long reception counter. There was a stillness and solemnity about the hall which encouraged a hushed tone of voice.
Tarrant was no good at the waiting game and his eyes kept straying to the clock on the wall. He was perspiring freely and the roof of his mouth felt dry and tacky. He wondered if Drew and Vincent would draw the obvious conclusion. Giving them the slip was not going to be easy since he was not familiar with the geography of Paris. He had been there only once before, for a long weekend shortly after he and Alex had been married, and he had forgotten much of what he had seen. He recalled place-names with difficulty, and the more he faced up to the problem, the less confident he became. Once he had given Drew and Vincent the slip, he thought it probable that every gendarme in Paris would be on the look out for him.
A voice said, ‘Commandant Tarrant?’
The surname was mispronounced and he didn’t recognise it at first, but when it was repeated, he looked up, and seeing one of the desk clerks gazing speculatively around the foyer, he got up and walked hurriedly towards him.
‘I’m Major Tarrant,’ he said carefully.
The man smiled and handed him an envelope. ‘This message came for you.’
‘Did you see the man who delivered it?’
The desk clerk looked puzzled. ‘My English, it is not good,’ he said slowly.
Tarrant searched his schoolboy French and in a mixture of both languages, repeated the question. It was something of a small miracle that the man understood.
‘The message,’ he said emphatically, ‘was by the telephone and I was reminded how to deliver it.’
‘How?’
The man pointed to the switchboard. ‘By the telephone, how else, monsieur?’
The message was meant to be short and to the point, but as it was written in French, Tarrant needed help to translate it and that wasted precious minutes. It said roughly: ‘My apologies for not being present to meet you. Suggest you come to my flat at 31 Rue Lancen. Take the Métro to the Place République.—Drabble.’
He noticed that Drew was trying to catch his eye and Tarrant guessed that they wanted to see the note. He walked by their table and entered the washroom, knowing that after a short interval, either Drew or Vincent would follow him. He thought it would be Drew but he was wrong about that.
Vincent said, ‘May I see the note?’
Tarrant handed it to him. ‘Are you planning to alert the French police?’ he said.
‘No, we don’t know who we are looking for. I don’t think they will try anything on the Métro but they may be watching us.’ Vincent’s face was impassive. ‘So we’ll play it safe. I’ll be in the same carriage with you and Drew will be in the one behind. Okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right, let’s get started.’
Tarrant had forgotten what it was like inside the Métro. The warm atmosphere was stifling and it felt as if someone was holding a damp towel close to his face. He stood beneath the sign which indicated the point opposite which the first-class carriage would stop, and Vincent, who was almost within touching distance, made a point of studying the Metro map on the wall in the hope that no one would suspect that they were together. Drew was some way down the platform where he would have the pleasure of riding second-class. A train bound for the Pont de Sevres pulled into the platform on the other side of the station and hissed to a stop; seconds later, the train they had been waiting for appeared in the tunnel and groaned into the station. A woman bustled in front of them, threw the safety lock off and opened the sliding doors. They followed her into the carriage, Tarrant turning left to take a seat not too far away from the doors, and Vincent moving right to the other end of the compartment and choosing a corner seat where he could keep an eye on Tarrant. The doors closed automatically and then the train crawled out of the station.
There was just one stop between Saint Augustin and Chaussée D’Antin, the station name memorised from Drabble’s tape and, although his stomach was turning over, Tarrant did his best to look unconcerned. Drabble had picked the wrong time of day because not many people used the Metro during the lunch hour and Tarrant needed a crowd to help him shake off Drew and Vincent. He planned to slip the train just as the doors were closing, but if that move was to come off, someone would have to get into the carriage at Chaussee D’Antin. The doors closed automatically but they had to be opened manually and he couldn’t afford to waste time doing that. No one got into his section of the carriage at the intermediate stop, but at least he was able to calculate the interval between the train stopping and starting.
As the train slid into the next station, his silent prayer that luck would be with him was answered. A family of three got into the compartment and moving to their right, they
momentarily screened Tarrant from Vincent’s gaze. He left his seat like a greyhound springing out of the trap and he just made it before the doors closed behind him. A woman platform attendant shouted something but he ignored her and hurried towards the exit, and as the train slowly overtook him, he caught a glimpse of Vincent mouthing obscenities at him before he finally disappeared from sight into the tunnel. He felt almost buoyant until he discovered that Drew was following him, and then it came home to Tarrant that the woman had not been shouting at him.
The long, straight subway was wide enough for three people to walk abreast of one another without causing an obstruction, and there was nowhere for him to hide. He knew that he would never be able to shake off Drew unless he was in a crowd and so, in desperation, he made his way up to the street above. Galeries Lafayette was facing him across the road and, dodging through the honking traffic, he slipped inside the nearest entrance. Drew, reading the danger signals, began to close the gap between them.
The department store was crowded with tourists and lunch- time shoppers, and Tarrant thought it was just his bloody luck that when he had wanted a crowd, he had ended up with a milling throng which restricted him to a slow crawl and made it possible for Drew to stay close. He tried a figure of eight around the ground floor, rode the escalator up to the cafeteria on the roof, and still unable to shake Drew, back-tracked down the staircase to the toy department and then, taking to the escalator again, went down to street level. Drew stayed with him all the way and was still almost within touching distance when he came out into the side street.
A cab appeared at just the right moment and Tarrant went into it fast and asked for the Hôtel des Invalides because that was the first address which came into his head. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that Drew had also found a taxi and he wondered how he was ever going to lose him. The problem was solved for Tarrant; they just made the lights at the junction of the Rue Mogador and the Boulevard Haussman, but Drew didn’t.
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