Try This One for Size

eight

During breakfast, served in their room, Lu Bradey explained to Maggie what he wanted her to do. He sat in a chair while Maggie, lying in bed, munched a crisp roll, smothered with black cherry jam.

“I am expecting people to arrive sometime this morning,” Bradey said. “I don’t know exactly when, but it will be in the morning. I have business with them. I don’t want you to be around while I’m with them. I want to talk to them in this room. Are you following me, baby?”

Maggie reached for another roll and began to butter it.

“You want me out of the way? Right?”

“Yeah. First, I want you to pack. Then I want you to take all the things out of your vanity box. I want the box empty. Are you still with me?”

Maggie spread a layer of black cherry jam on her roll, her pretty face slightly contorted with concentration.

“What shall I do with the things from my box?”

Bradey sighed.

“Put them in one of your bags.”

Maggie nodded, her face relaxing. She began to munch again.

“I love this jam!” she exclaimed, her mouth full. “I know I shouldn’t be eating all this bread. I’ll be getting fat!”

Bradey sighed again.

“Enjoy yourself, baby, and listen.”

“I’m right with you, pet. I empty the box, pack all my things and... what else?”

“Once you have packed, you take the elevator down to the basement, go through the tunnel to the swimming pool.”

“But I will have packed my swimsuit, or won’t I have?”

Bradey ran his fingers through his hair.

“Forget your swim suit. You won’t be swimming. You will sit by the pool in the sun and wait until I join you. Got it?”

“I just sit and wait?”

“I’ll get you a book. There’s a new Harold Robbins just out. You dig his books, don’t you?”

Maggie’s face brightened.

“I adore them! The sexy bits turn me on.”

“Okay. So you sit by the pool and read, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. Right?”

Maggie finished her roll, poured more coffee, then nodded.

“If that’s what you want, honey.”

Bradey sighed with relief.

“Fine. After my business talk, we’ll leave. Now, Maggie, it is very important I should find you at the pool. I haven’t the time to look for you if you wander away. As soon as my business talk is over, I want to leave. Understand?”

“I just sit by the pool and read Harold Robbins?”

“That’s what you do. Now, if you have finished breakfast, please pack.”

Maggie examined the breakfast tray, was surprised there were no more rolls, sighed and got reluctantly out of bed.

The time now was 09.15.

“While you are packing, baby, I’m going down to settle the check. Don’t forget to empty the vanity box.”

Leaving her, Bradey took the elevator down to the reception lobby.

Sergas Holtz was sitting in the lounge where he had a clear view of the reception desk. Sure that the Hall porter would be puzzled as to why he was always sitting in the lounge, never going out, Holtz had taken the precaution to explain to both the Hall porter and the reception clerk that he was expecting an important telephone call and had to wait until it came. This explanation satisfied the curiosity of the hotel staff.

He watched Lu Bradey pay the bill. He wandered over to the reception desk and began to study one of the travel folders while he listened.

“I will be leaving shortly,” Bradey was saying to the reception clerk. “Mr Willis will be arriving around two o’clock. Send someone up for my luggage in half an hour.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Bradey then left the hotel and hurried to a bookshop just up the street and bought a copy of the new Robbins novel. Then returning to the hotel, he entered his room. He found Maggie, having had a shower, leisurely dressing.

“Get moving, chick!” he said, a snap in his voice. “They’ll be up in half an hour for the luggage.”

This statement immediately threw Maggie into a panic. She began to stuff anything she could lay hands on into her suitcases.

“Not the goddamn bath towels!” Bradey shouted. “Oh, for God’s sake! Get dressed! I’ll do it!”

By the time the porter came tapping on the door, Bradey had emptied the vanity box, packed the suitcases and put the vanity box out of sight. By this time, flustered, Maggie was dressed. He told the porter to put the bags in his car.

“Now, baby,” he said firmly, “here’s your book. Go to the swimming pool and wait. Right?”

Maggie nodded.

“You will really come for me, honey? We really are going to get married?”

“Just wait,” Bradey said, his patience nearly exhausted. “I’ll come for you and we’ll get married.”

When she had gone, after kissing him, Bradey wrote a note, put it in an envelope and addressed it to Mr Pierre Duvine. He took the note down to the reception clerk.

“Please give this to Mr Duvine when he arrives.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Still watched by Sergas Holtz, Bradey returned to his room, took a chair out on to the balcony where he could watch arrivals and sat down to wait.

Two maids came into his room. He told them to go ahead, explaining he was waiting for friends. They stripped the bed and did the bathroom for the afternoon arrival of Mr John Willis.

At 11.15, Bradey saw the Duvines and the Lepskis arrive. He came in from the balcony, lit a cigarette and began to pace up and down. The note he had left with the reception clerk told Duvine Bradey’s room number and urged him to come to him at once.

Sergas Holtz watched the Duvines and the Lepskis book in. He watched the luggage porter put four suitcases and a blue vanity box on his trolley and wheel it away. He watched the Duvines and the Lepskis with the reception clerk enter the elevator. He nodded to himself. Very soon now, his long boring wait would be over, and there would be action.

At their doors, Duvine said, “Suppose we all meet in the lobby in half an hour, Tom? We’ll take a look at the town.”

“Fine with us,” Lepski said. “This is some hotel. What’s the food like?”

“You won’t starve,” Duvine said, and steered Claudette into their room and closed the door. “Bradey’s here. He wants to see me at once. His room’s right by ours.”

“Be careful, my treasure,” Claudette said, a little anxiously. “Lu is very tricky.”

Duvine kissed her.

“Then so am I. I’ll be right back.”

Bradey paused in his pacing as a tap came on his door. He went to the door and opened it.

“Pierre!” he exclaimed. “Marvellous to see you!” and he grabbed Duvine’s hand and pulled him into the room. “You’re looking terrific!”

Not to be out-done, Duvine pumped Bradey’s hand and exclaimed, “You don’t look a day older! My God! It’s good to see you again.”

Both these two were expert con-men. They appeared to exude friendship and genuine pleasure to see each other again.

“Tell me,” Bradey said, still holding Duvine’s hand. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Any problems?”

“None, except the Lepskis are driving us crazy.”

“The customs?”

“Went like a dream.”

Bradey beamed.

“I knew I could rely on you. Now the switch.”

“Yes.” Duvine made a little grimace. “That will need handling, but I can do it. Have you the duplicate box?”

“Of course.” Bradey produced the vanity box. “It’s empty, Pierre. It won’t take you more than a few minutes to transfer Mrs Lepski’s junk, then come to the Eden hotel, Zurich, where I will be waiting with twenty thousand beautiful Swiss francs for you.”

Duvine rubbed his hands.

“Marvellous!”

“How will you get rid of the Lepskis?”

“I will tell them my mother is ill and we have to return to Paris. Leave that to me. God! Won’t we be glad to see the last of them!”

“Right. I must get off.” Bradey gave Duvine his wide, false smile. “You have done a swell job. I’m going to insist Ed pays you another ten thousand.”

“Why, thanks, Lu! That’s terrific!”

The two men shook hands.

“See you in Zurich... maybe two days?”

“The moment I’ve done the switch, I will be with you. It depends on the Lepskis. They cling to me like glue. Yes, two days, could be three. I’ll call you at the Eden.”

“Perfect. Good luck, Pierre,” and with more hand shaking, more friendly smiles, Bradey hurried to the elevator to find Maggie.

Duvine picked up the vanity box, looked to see if the corridor was deserted, then quickly went to his room.

When Claudette saw the vanity box, her face lit up.

“All right, my treasure?”

“No problems. He’s even promised to give us another ten thousand.” Duvine gave a happy laugh. “He hasn’t the faintest idea that we are going to double-cross him. Imagine! A miserable thirty thousand Swiss francs when we can get at least four million dollars!”

Claudette threw herself into his arms, and they began to waltz around the room.

Bradey found Maggie sitting in a sun-lounging chair engrossed in the Robbins novel.

“Come on, chick,” he said. “We’re on our way.”

Maggie was lost to the world, her eyes popping as she read on.

Bradey snatched the book from her.

“Come on!”

She blinked up at him.

“Oh, Lu, do let me finish what’s happening. He has her on this bed...”

“Never mind! We’re on our way!”

He bustled her across the road and to where his car was waiting.

As he drove towards Villeneuve, he once again went over the instructions: how to get to the Zurich autoroute, the name of the hotel, and for her to wait for him.

She parted with him a little tearfully when they arrived at Villeneuve, but she was now so happy with her new watch and the money he had given her and the thought of finishing the Robbins novel, she controlled her emotion. She finally drove away to the autoroute to Zurich after Bradey had assured her a dozen times he would join her in not more than a week.

Bradey had already arranged to hire a Golf VW from a local garage. He walked to collect it, then drove to a commune swimming pool and rented a cabin. The pool was fairly full of young people on a late vacation. None of them paid him any attention. He took his suitcase into the cabin, locked the door and set about transforming himself into a wizened, smartly dressed old man who could have been a retired banker or an attorney. It wasn’t until 01.30 that he returned to the Montreux Palace hotel and booked in as Mr John Willis.

Sergas Holtz who was still sitting in the lounge would have been completly fooled, so brilliant was Bradey’s disguise, had Bradey not made the error of using the same suitcase as he had used when booking in under the name of Lewis Schultz. Holtz, trained to observe, recognised the suitcase as the porter carried it to the elevator, followed by Bradey. Holtz remembered his uncle had warned him that Lu Bradey was a master of disguise. Holtz gave a satisfied little nod. Any time now would be the time for action. He had seen the Duvines and the Lepskis leave the hotel. He went into the bar for a quick snack.

Up in his room, Bradey unpacked his bag. He took out a Smith & Wesson .38 pistol.

Following Ed Haddon’s instructions, he had stopped at Geneva and had driven to the address Haddon had given him.

A tall, fat man in his early thirties, and apparently covered with coarse black hair which grew from his face like a wasps’ nest and sprouted out of his shirt collar, was happy to sell him a gun as soon as Bradey mentioned Haddon’s name.

Bradey loathed firearms. He loathed any form of violence. He stressed that the gun must be unloaded and watched the tall, fat man empty out the cylinders. Satisfied the gun was non-lethal, Bradey put it in his pocket and paid.

Now, he sat on the bed and examined the gun uneasily. He hoped he wouldn’t have to threaten Duvine. If he did, he didn’t think he would be very convincing. Duvine had seemed so friendly. It was hard to believe he was thinking of double crossing him. Haddon was suspicious of everyone, but Bradey decided he must take no chances with Duvine. A million dollars was a million dollars. He then thought of Maggie. Maybe it had been a little rash to have promised to marry her. Bradey sighed. He couldn’t see himself settling down with Maggie for years. She was the type who would lose her bloom of youth early. Well, there was time. He first had to get the icon. He put the gun back in his suitcase, then feeling hungry, he went down to lunch.

Lepski didn’t approve of Montreux. He admitted the view across the lake and the steamers were pretty good, but the town itself seemed as dead as George Washington. Carroll too was a little disappointed, but she loved the watch shops and kept lingering to stare while Lepski made impatient whistling noises.

The Duvines were nearly at the end of their patience. They kept exchanging looks, encouraging each other that this ordeal couldn’t last much longer.

“How about eats?” Lepski said. “What are the steaks like?”

“Never eat a steak here,” Duvine said hurriedly. “They are not in your class. Let’s go to a pizzeria. It’ll be a change for you.” He had now made up his mind not to offer the Lepskis any further sophisticated food, and although he knew he was libelling the Swiss to say their steaks weren’t up to standard, he just couldn’t stand watching Lepski saw through yet another steak, grumbling. To his surprise both Carroll and Lepski liked the big pizza set before them.

“Now this is what I call a meal!” Lepski said, beaming. “Like home.”

Knowing that Claudette had already sown the seed for the Lepskis to visit Gstaad, Duvine, while they ate, brought his mother on to the scene.

“I’m frankly worried,” he said. “She wasn’t too good when we left Paris. I called when we were in Monaco and heard the old lady has taken to her bed.”

“Gee! I’m sorry,” Lepski said, looking concerned. “I lost my old lady four years ago, and I still miss her.”

Duvine lifted his shoulders.

“It may be all right. I’m calling tonight, but if she isn’t better, Claudette and I feel we should go back.”

“You should,” Carroll said. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Duvine smiled.

“I may have better news. Anyway, if we do have to go back, it doesn’t mean you have to. You must see Gstaad. You’ll love it.”

“You two have been marvellous to us!” Carroll exclaimed. “If you have to go back, why shouldn’t we all go back? I think Paris is more fun than Switzerland.”

Somehow Duvine kept a smile on his face.

“You say that because you don’t know Gstaad. Now that’s really a place! Liz Taylor has a villa there, and she wouldn’t live there unless it was real fun. You want night life? It’s there, strip tease: gorgeous girls: dozens of night clubs. Steaks? Let me tell you, the genuine Kobe steaks are flown in every day from Japan: thick and juicy: the best steaks in the world! Then there are gorgeous mountains, snow, rides in horse-drawn sledges, and the shops! You’ve never seen shops like they have at Gstaad!”

Claudette who had been to Gstaad and had thought it a dreary hole, hoped God would forgive her husband for such outrageous lies, but she realized it was essential now to get rid of the Lepskis.

Lepski listened, his eyes brightening.

“Strip tease? Gorgeous girls? Juicy steaks?”

“Ask yourself why Liz Taylor would live there if it wasn’t the in-thing.”

“Sounds terrific!”

“I would be very, very unhappy to think you two, coming so far, should miss Gstaad.” Duvine looked imploringly at Claudette.

“They just must go,” she said firmly. “It’s an experience of a lifetime.”

“Okay, then we’ll go,” Lepski said, “but we’ll miss you two.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Duvine lied, and signalled for the bill. “This may not happen. I hope to get good news of my mother tonight. I long to see Gstaad again myself. Now, I’ll drive you to Vevey to see the famous swans.” He smiled at Carroll. “You can take some marvellous photographs. Then this evening, we’ll take a steamer. There’s music and dancing and we can dine on board. You’ll just love it!”

So they went to Vevey and Carroll, intrigued by the swans, used up two rolls of film while Lepski contained his impatience. He thought if you’ve seen one goddamn swan you’ve seen the lot. A bunch of rather dirty-looking swans didn’t impress him.

Then they returned to the Montreux Palace hotel, agreeing to meet in the bar at 20.00, and then go to the boat station. None of them noticed an elderly, wizened man sitting in the lounge who watched them as they entered the elevator.

In their room, Duvine turned to Claudette.

“I can’t stand it any longer!” he exclaimed. “Those two are driving me out of my mind! I am going after the vanity box tonight! Now, sugar, we meet them in the bar and I’ll tell them I have had a telegram from my brother about my mother’s condition. He will be calling me at nine thirty, so I must stay here for the call. You will take the Lepskis on the steamer. You’ll be back around eleven o’clock. I will be in the lounge and will tell them we must leave at once as my mother is sinking. We’ll pack right now. As soon as you have gone with them, I’ll switch the boxes and put our luggage and the Lepski’s’ box in the Mercedes. I’ll tell Lepski it will be quicker for us to drive back to Paris as there’s fog at Geneva. I will tell them to ask the Hall porter to get them a Hertz car to take them to Gstaad.”

Claudette considered this.

“You don’t think they’ll want to come with us?”

“Not after the build-up I’ve given Gstaad. Did you see the look in Tom’s eyes when I mentioned steaks from Kobe and gorgeous girls?”

Claudette stifled a giggle.

“What a shock for him when he gets there!”

“To make certain, I will tell him I’ve booked them into the Gstaad Palace hotel: the best.”

“But, my treasure, the Palace doesn’t open until December.”

“He won’t find that out until they arrive. Come on, sugar, let’s pack.”

At 20.00, the Duvines entered the bar, both looking worried. The Lepskis were already there, and Lepski was wrapping himself around a double Scotch while Carroll was getting acquainted with a double dry martini.

Seeing the Duvines’ expressions, Lepski asked, “Trouble?”

“I hope not.” Duvine sat down, after pulling out a chair for Claudette. “I’ve had a telegram from my brother. He says mother is pretty bad, and he will telephone me tonight to tell me if I should return or not.”

“What a shame!” Carroll exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. That goes for me too,” Lepski said. He signalled to the barman. “Maybe it won’t be all that bad. What’ll you have?”

“Scotch for me and a martini for Claudette, please,” Duvine said. “As you say, it may be all right.” He waited until their drinks were served. “Although I have to stay here, Tom, you three must go on the steamer trip. When you return, I could have good news.”

“Oh, no!” Carroll exclaimed. “We can’t go off and leave you to sit and worry. Oh, no!”

“She’s right,” Lepski said. “Let’s sit right here and wait. We can eat at the hotel.”

For a moment, Duvine was non-plussed, then his fertile con-mind sprang into action.

“There’s no need for that, Tom, but I appreciate your consideration. You’re both real friends, but do me a favour. Claudette has never been on a steamer at night. She has been so looking forward to it.” He didn’t look at Claudette who only kept her expression of surprise controlled with an effort. “Will you take the girls, Tom? Carroll will love it too. There’s no point in all of us missing a trip like this. Please be nice and give Claudette some pleasure.”

Put like that, Lepski couldn’t refuse.

“Why, sure. You leave it to me. I’ll give the girls a ball.”

Having experienced an evening on a Swiss steamer at night with an accordion and a violin producing sounds only the Swiss love, elderly, fat people prancing, and pork chops for dinner, Duvine doubted they would have a ball. He relied on Claudette to make a pretence of enjoying herself.

“Thank you,” he said, and looked at his watch. “The steamer leaves at nine o’clock, so maybe you’d better think about getting ready to leave.”

Hastily finishing his drink, Lepski got to his feet.

“Okay, girls,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The elderly, wizened-looking man who had been reading a newspaper while nursing a Scotch on the rocks, watched the party leave the bar. Then he got to his feet and wandered into the reception lobby as Lepski led Carroll and Claudette to the revolving doors.

Duvine also watched them, then he walked to the elevator. The elderly wizened-looking man entered the elevator with him and walked away down the long corridor, followed by Duvine.

In his room, Duvine waited a few minutes, then cautiously opened his door and looked along the long, deserted corridor.

Lu Bradey had his door ajar and remained waiting with a clear view of the Lepskis’ door. He didn’t have to wait long. He watched Duvine, carrying the vanity box he had given him, move silently to the Lepskis’ room, pause for a brief moment as he manipulated the lock, open the door and enter the room, closing the door behind him.

Uneasily, Bradey fingered the Smith and Wesson gun in his jacket pocket. He waited. Minutes ticked by. He knew Duvine would have to transfer Carroll’s things from one box to the other. He knew Duvine was a quick, expert worker, but the wait made Bradey sweat.

Then he heard voices and saw a young couple leaving their room. They were obviously very much in love. As they walked towards his room, he stepped back, closing the door, then reopened it as they paused outside the Lepskis’ room to kiss. At that moment, Duvine, carrying Carroll’s vanity box, moved out into the corridor.

The young couple broke apart, giggled and hurried down the corridor.

Duvine paused to relock Lepskis’ door, then walked fast to his room as Bradey stepped into the corridor.

“Sir!” Bradey exclaimed. “Excuse me.”

Duvine paused and looked at this elderly, wizened-looking man. He frowned.

“Yes?”

Bradey walked towards him.

“A moment, sir.”

“I’m sorry. I am in a hurry.”

By this time, Bradey had reached Duvine.

“That was very nicely done, Pierre,” he said. “I knew I could rely on you.”

Duvine felt a rush of hot blood to his head. He stepped back into his room, followed closely by Bradey.

“You?” Duvine managed to say. “Lu?”

“Of course.” Bradey forced a laugh. “I’ve changed my mind, Pierre. I am taking the box to Zurich.” He closed the door. “There is no point in you driving to Zurich. Ed wants it this way.”

Still holding the vanity box, Duvine was so shaken he sat down abruptly.

“I’ve talked to Ed,” Bradey went on. “He’s agreed you have done a swell job. I can pay you thirty thousand Swiss francs. I have the money with me.”

Duvine’s sharp mind began to function. His immediate reaction was to knock Bradey unconscious and bolt, but he couldn’t leave without Claudette who wouldn’t be returning for another two hours. No, he told himself, this situation called for diplomacy.

“That’s a marvellous disguise,” he said. “Sit down for a moment. Let’s talk.”

Bradey hesitated, then sat down, away from Duvine.

“What’s there to talk about, Pierre? I want to leave for Zurich tonight. Ed’s expecting me.”

“I know what’s in here,” Duvine said, tapping the vanity box. “The Catherine the Great icon.”

Bradey nodded. He slipped his sweaty hand into his jacket pocket and fingered the gun. It didn’t give him any confidence.

“The icon is worth at least ten million dollars,” Duvine said, watching Bradey closely.

“It might be if a buyer could be found,” Bradey said cautiously.

“Ed wouldn’t have organized the steal unless he had found a buyer. I know who the buyer is... Herman Radnitz.”

Bradey shifted uneasily. So Haddon had been right. This scene was set for a double-cross. He looked at Duvine’s powerful build. One punch from him, Bradey thought, sweat on his forehead, could be lethal.

“You are jumping to conclusions, Pierre. Anyway, what’s in the box is no affair of yours. You were hired to steal the box and you’ve done a great job. You are being paid generously. There is nothing more to discuss. Give me the box and I’ll give you thirty thousand Swiss francs.”

Duvine shook his head. He could see Bradey was scared and he flexed his powerful muscles.

“There is something to discuss, Lu. Let’s be realistic.”

“I’m not following you.” Bradey forced a quavering smile. “You and I have worked marvellously together for years. I can still put a lot of profitable work your way. What do you mean... realistic?”

“Come on, Lu!” Duvine put on a ferocious scowl that made Bradey edge back in his chair. “Here’s my proposition: we drop Haddon out of this deal, and we split the take between us. We pick up three, even four, million each. What do you say?”

“What do I say?” Bradey’s voice shot up a note. “I say I don’t believe this is you talking, Pierre. I am surprised and shocked. I don’t double-cross my friends. Ed is my friend. I thought you were my friend. Give me the box, and I will give you the money, and we will forget this conversation.”

Duvine eyed him, then shook his head.

“No. You either accept my deal or you don’t get a thing and I take the lot. I am in contact with Radnitz. He’ll buy from me. He doesn’t regard you nor anyone as a friend. There’s nothing you can do about it, Lu. Will you come in with me or be a loser?”

Haddon had foreseen this double-cross, Bradey thought. Haddon always foresaw trouble and was always prepared for it.

He shook his head.

“You haven’t thought this through, Pierre. Radnitz wouldn’t deal with you. He won’t even deal with me. I will deal with his agent, and you don’t know who his agent is. Now let’s stop this nonsense. Another thing: Haddon could make your future life a misery. I give you my word I won’t tell him about this. Give me the box, I’ll give you the money, and we go on together as we have always done.”

Duvine hesitated, then thought of what it would be like to own five million dollars. He also thought of Claudette who had so much faith in him.

“No! You’ve had your chance. I keep the box, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Bradey sat still for a long moment, fingering the gun in his pocket. He was now desperate. If he threatened Duvine with the unloaded gun, would Duvine launch himself at him and do him an injury?

Gathering his courage together, he said, “But there is,” and produced the gun which he pointed at Duvine. “I’m sorry, Pierre, but you have asked for it.”

Duvine stared at the gun, feeling a cold rush of blood down his spine. He, like Bradey, had a horror of violence. Never before had anyone pointed a gun at him, and the sight of the small black menace in Bradey’s hand turned him into a white-faced, trembling travesty of his usual confident self.

“You... you wouldn’t dare shoot!” he gasped.

Bradey, startled that here was a man even more cowardly than himself, had a rush of bravado. He leaned forward, waving the gun at Duvine and snarled, “I wouldn’t kill you, but I would cripple you! I’ll blow off your knee cap if you don’t give me that box at once!”

Duvine shuddered. With a trembling hand, he put the box on the floor and shoved it with his foot to Bradey.

“Don’t keep pointing that gun at me,” he quavered. “It... it might go off.”

Bradey snatched up the box, stood up and backed to the door.

“You are a fool, Pierre. You won’t get any more work from us, and don’t forget, Ed never forgives a double-cross.”

He opened the door, stepped into the corridor and made quickly to his room.

Ten minutes later, he was speeding towards Zurich, Carroll’s vanity box on the passenger’s seat by his side.

La Suisse, brilliantly lit, steamed towards the Montreux boat station. From it exuded the wailing of a violin and an accordion.

Pierre Duvine watched it approach. He had been waiting for the past hour, and by now, he had recovered to some extent the crushing blow Bradey had dealt him. He still felt utterly depressed. Not only would there be no millions, but no money from Bradey. He was in a fever of anxiety. He realized he had no further future in antique swindles. He knew Haddon would pass the word, and no one would touch him. His shop in Deauville without new, stolen goods would have to close. The red light had gone up when he had lost at the roulette table. His luck had run out! He had gambled on getting at least three million dollars and he had lost. He had just enough Swiss francs to buy gas for the journey back to Paris, and back there, he knew the rent demand would be waiting and other bills. Well, he told himself, back to picking pockets. The Paris season was about to begin. The city would be full of rich tourists, flashing their wallets. He hated the risk, but he had to face up to the fact it was the only way to keep off the bread line. He thought of Claudette. She was his only consolation. She would accept, without complaining, the inevitable. She would understand he couldn’t have done anything when faced with a gun. He felt a surge of love for her run through him. How blessed he was to have Claudette!

La Suisse came alongside the jetty and people began coming down the gangplank. Duvine could see Claudette and the Lepskis, and he waved.

Lepski was thankful to get off the steamer. To him the night trip had been the biggest drag he had experienced. The sounds made by the violin and the accordion had set his nerves jangling. The fat, elderly couples who danced happily made him make noises like a flat car battery trying to start an engine. The pork chop dinner had made his jaws ache. Carroll, seeing how Claudette was apparently thrilled with everything, controlled Lepski as best she could, but she too was thankful to get off the steamer.

Claudette, her face set in a smile, had wondered how Pierre had been succeeding. She felt a complete wreck after forcing gaiety for so long, trying to make the Lepskis happy and praying such an experience would never happen to her again.

One look at Duvine’s white, strained face told her there had been a disaster.

“Pierre?” She ran to him.

“We must leave at once!” Duvine said. “She’s dying.” He turned to the Lepskis. “I’m sorry. I know you will understand. We must drive to Paris. Geneva airport is closed through fog. We mustn’t waste a moment.” He caught hold of Lepski’s hand and wrung it. “Dear friend, please don’t delay us and please excuse us. We should have been on the road an hour ago, I have arranged your room at the Palace, Gstaad. The Hall porter will fix you with a car and tell you how to get there.” He turned to Carroll. “We’ll write as soon as we get to Paris. So sorry about this. It’s been wonderful meeting you both.”

As Lepski and Carroll tried to convey their sympathy, Duvine signalled to Claudette to get in the car. She gave them a mournful wave of her hand as Duvine slid under the steering wheel.

Dazed by the suddenness of this, the Lepskis could only wave as the car shot away. As Duvine headed for the autoroute, he told Claudette what had happened.

“I don’t know what we’ll do!” he said in despair. “We are nearly out of money. To think that devil Bradey should have a gun!”

Claudette patted his hand.

“Nothing matters, my treasure, so long as we have each other,” she said.

They were the most comforting words Duvine had ever heard.

Lepski stared after the tail lights of the departing car, then turned to look at Carroll.

“Well, for God’s sake! That was quick, wasn’t it?”

“The poor dear is losing his mother, Tom,” Carroll said a little tearfully. “What do you expect?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right. We’ll miss them.” Lepski started across the road to the hotel entrance. “What an evening! That music! That meal! I thought I would blow my lid!”

“You’re always grumbling!” Carroll snapped. “This is the Swiss way of life. You should be grateful to see how other people enjoy themselves.”

Lepski made a noise like a tractor backfiring. An elderly couple passing, stopped and stared at him.

“Lepski!” Carroll snapped. “You’re making an exhibition of yourself!”

Lepski glared at the elderly couple and then stamped into the hotel lobby.

“You had better arrange about a car for tomorrow,” Carroll said.

Lepski grunted and walked over to the Hall porter’s desk.

“I want to rent a car for tomorrow morning,” he said. “My friends have had an emergency and have gone off in the car we were sharing. Bad about the airport shutdown.”

The Hall porter lifted his eyebrows.

“Geneva airport is open, sir. There’s no fog.”

Lepski’s cop mind became alert.

“That a fact?”

“Certainly, sir. What kind of car would you want to rent?”

“Wait a minute,” Lepski said. “We are planning to drive to Gstaad. We are booked in at the Palace hotel.”

“The Palace hotel isn’t open yet, sir. The Gstaad season only begins on December 1st.”

Lepski loosened his tie: always a sign that he was getting heated.

“Tell me, friend,” he said. “I understand Gstaad is noted for their Kobe steaks. Right?”

“Well, no, sir. You mean the Japanese steaks featured so much in Hong Kong? They are not imported to Switzerland.”

Lepski dragged at his tie.

“I understand there are strip tease shows with lots of gorgeous girls.”

“Perhaps in the season. Around Christmas, sir.”

Carroll joined Lepski.

“I don’t think we will be going to Gstaad,” Lepski said through his teeth.

“What do you mean?” Carroll demanded impatiently.

“Quiet!” Lepski snapped. “I smell trouble!” He went over to the reception desk. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “Have my check ready please.”

“Mr Lepski? Room 245?”

“Yeah.”

The clerk produced a detailed statement.

“That, of course, sir,” he said with a bright smile, “includes Mr and Mrs Duvine’s check. Mr Duvine was in a hurry. He told me his mother was dying. He said you would take care of the check.” He looked inquiringly at Lepski whose face had turned wooden.

“Yeah,” Lepski said. “I’ll take a look at this,” then taking the statement, he walked back to Carroll, “I want a drink.”

“Can’t you think...?”

“Quiet!” Lepski snapped, and Carroll, seeing the danger signs, followed him into the bar that was almost deserted. Lepski sat down and began to study the items on the statement. He looked at the final amount and released a low, long whistle.

The barman came over.

“A treble Scotch on the rocks,” Lepski said. “You want something?” This to Carroll.

“No! You drink too much! What’s the matter? Must you look like someone out of a horror movie?”

Lepski said nothing. He waited for the drink, swallowed half of it, then looked at Carroll.

“The old rum-dum Bessinger was right. She warned us about dangerous people. I said all along that Duvine was a con-man, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Don’t start that all over again! What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been taken,” Lepski said. “I’m ready to bet my last dollar that that sonofabitch hasn’t ever had a mother!”

“Lepski! What are you saying?”

“It’s the oldest con trick in the world! We’ve fallen for it! We’re landed with their hotel check, his drinks, food and a couple of items he bought in the hotel for his charming bitch of a wife,” Lepski snarled. “And what is more...” He went on to explain that the season at Gstaad hadn’t begun: no hotel, no Kobe steaks, no gorgeous girls, no nothing.

“I can’t believe it!” Carroll cried, then seeing the expression on Lepski’s face as he glared at the hotel check, she realized what he was saying had to be true, she flew into a rage.

“We must tell the police!” she hissed. “No one takes us for a ride! No one!”

“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” Lepski said quietly and firmly. “If it ever gets out that an American police officer had been taken for a ride by a smooth, goddamn conman, I’d never live it down! The boys back home would laugh themselves out of their fat minds! I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen. It’s your money.” He dropped the statement into her lap. “Let this be an experience, and from now on, don’t trust anyone!”

Carroll looked at the amount she would have to pay and gave a little scream that made the barman look sharply at her.

“Oh, Tom!”

“My old man said you have to pay for experience,” Lepski said. “In the future, listen to what I say.”

Carroll nodded.

“Now, I’ll ask you something,” Lepski went on. “Have you really enjoyed your trip?”

Carroll hesitated.

“Well, it has been a bit disappointing, but this just makes a mess of it, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow we’ll go home. I’ve had enough of Europe. We would have been smart to have put all that wasted money in the bank. Is there anything left?”

Carroll grimaced.

“Less than five thousand.”

Lepski patted her.

“That’ll take care of our debts.” He finished his drink, then stiffened. “Jesus! I’ve forgotten our neighbours! Now, listen, you must tell them, as I’ll tell the boys, we have had a marvellous time. Not a word about the goddamn food. You remember those fancy meals we had to eat? Okay, you make your pals green with envy. Tell them about that duck we had. Ram it down their throats. Show them those photographs you took of the swans, the mountains, the Eiffel tower. No one... repeat no one... must have an idea we haven’t had a ball. Right?”

Carroll brightened. She could imagine how she would keep her girl friends enthralled and goggle-eyed. Maybe, being the centre of attraction for the next few months, would be worth the trip.

She got to her feet, linked her arm in Lepski’s and gave him her best sexy smile.

“Let’s go to bed, Tom.”

Knowing that smile, Lepski couldn’t get her to the elevator fast enough.

Lu Bradey parked his car outside the Eden hotel, Zurich, took the blue vanity box and his overnight case and entered the hotel.

The time was 01.15.

The night porter received him.

“Just overnight,” Bradey said. “I believe you have a Mr Claude Kendrick here.”

“Yes, sir. He is waiting for you in the bar.”

“Just take my bag up to my room. No, I’ll keep this box. It’s a present for Mr Kendrick’s daughter.”

Carrying the box, Bradey walked into the bar. He felt triumphant. In spite of Duvine, and thanks to Ed Haddon, he had accomplished his task. In a couple of days he would be worth a million dollars.

He found Kendrick sitting in an empty bar, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on a table beside him. Kendrick looked up expectantly, but seeing this elderly, wizened-looking man, grimaced, but then he saw the blue vanity box and he jumped to his feet.

“Lu, my dear boy! What a disguise! It is Lu?”

Bradey gave a joyous laugh.

“Yes, it’s me.” He waved the vanity box. “Success!”

“My dear, dear darling!” Kendrick exclaimed. “I knew you could do it! How wonderful!”

“When I’m asked to do a job, I do it.” Bradey put the box on the table, poured champagne into Kendrick’s glass and drank. “But there was some trouble.”

“Bad?”

“Never mind. I handled it. Duvine tried a double-cross.”

“How dreadful!”

“I fixed him. This is the last job he gets from us. Let’s go upstairs, Claude, and open the box. When will you get the money?”

“Tomorrow. I have an appointment with Radnitz. I told him you would be arriving. He said he would have the money ready.”

“Marvellous! Let’s go to your room.”

As the two men walked to the elevator, Kendrick said, “I have brought the necessary tools to open the box. We must be very careful not to damage the icon.”

“You’d better let me do it,” Bradey said. “I’ve got the know-how.”

Up in Kendrick’s room, the door closed and locked, Kendrick gave Bradey a set of tools, then sat down to watch.

While he worked, Bradey gave Kendrick a running commentary of how he had outwitted Duvine. Kendrick, listening, made little gasping noises.

“Who would believe it?” he said as Bradey levered the sides of the box apart. “Do be careful, chéri. It would be a dreadful thing to even scratch such a precious object.”

“Here it is,” Bradey said and gently lifted out a slab of wood from the false bottom of the box. “All these lovely millions.”

Then both men stiffened and stared at the slab of pine wood. Kendrick, his heart missing a beat, snatched the slab of wood out of Bradey’s hands.

“This isn’t the icon! It’s just a piece of wood!” he said huskily.

The shock was almost too much for Bradey. He snatched the slab of wood out of Kendrick’s hands, glared at it, then threw it on the floor.

Duvine had outwitted him! Somehow he had managed to switch the boxes, but how? As soon as that sonofabitch had stolen the Lepskis’ box, he hadn’t been out of Bradey’s sight.

Kendrick suddenly rose to his feet.

“You double crosser!” he screamed. “Give me the icon. I...”

“Shut up!” Bradey snarled. “It’s Duvine! He’s probably with Radnitz right now, offering it at half price!”

Kendrick closed his eyes. He knew Radnitz wouldn’t hesitate to deal with Duvine. He thought of the money he had spent, setting up this steal. He thought of Louis de Marney waiting for his share. He knew there was nothing he could do, but return to his Gallery.

He waved feebly to the door.

“Go away. Don’t ever let me see your horrid face again,” he said, then taking out his handkerchief, he burst into tears.

The previous evening, Sergas Holtz walked into Herman Radnitz’s study and placed a blue vanity box on the desk.

“Your instructions, sir, have been carried out,” he said.

Radnitz smiled.

“Excellent! Tell me about it.”

Holtz looked bored.

“There was no problem, sir. The Lepskis with their friends went out to lunch. Bradey went to the restaurant also for lunch. I took the opportunity and switched the boxes.”

“Have the box opened and let me see the icon,” Radnitz said.

Holtz took the box and left the study. He handed the box to Mythen.

“There is an object concealed in the bottom of this box,” he said. “Mr Radnitz wants to see it,” and he walked away.

Half an hour later, Mythen entered Radnitz’s study, and with reverent care, laid the Catherine the Great icon on the desk before Radnitz.

“A magnificent treasure, sir, if I may be permitted to say so,” he said.

Radnitz picked up the icon, his toad-like face alight with pleasure.

“You are right, Mythen,” he said. “One of the greatest treasures in the world. See if you can contact Vasili Vrenschov. Tell him to come as soon as he can.”

It wasn’t until the following day, when Pierre and Claudette Duvine were planning to get rid of the Lepskis, and Bradey was disguising himself as John Willis, that Vrenschov’s Beetle VW drew up outside Radnitz’s villa. He plodded up the marble steps with the heavy tread of an old man.

Mythen opened the front door, looked sharply at Vrenschov and asked, “You look poorly, Mr Vrenschov. You are not well?”

“No. I will not be staying for lunch,” Vrenschov said, his fat face the picture of gloom.

“Not staying to lunch? That is most unfortunate. The chef has cooked a special pheasant pie for you. Are you sure?”

Vrenschov moaned softly.

“I will not be staying to lunch.”

“That is most regrettable, sir. Please follow me.”

Radnitz had seen the shabby VW arrive. He had placed the icon on his desk. He sat back, clasping his fat hands and completely relaxed. Either way he couldn’t lose, he told himself. If the Soviet government wouldn’t give him the Dam contract, at least he would get eight million dollars for the return of the icon, but, of course to get the Dam contract was much more important.

When Vrenschov plodded into the study, Radnitz knew immediately the Dam contract wasn’t to be his. Well, all right, he had the icon. Not the ace card, but at least the king.

“Come in, Vasili,” he said, a rasp in his voice. “What is the news?”

“Unfortunately, Mr Radnitz, my people have decided to postpone the building of the dam for several years. They accept your estimate, but due to the sudden economic crisis, due to the shortage of grain, they feel money should not be spent on the dam.”

“But perhaps after this crisis?” Radnitz asked, his toad-like smile stiffening.

“We can but hope.”

“At least, they accepted my estimate?”

Vrenschov nodded.

Radnitz pointed to the icon.

“You see, Vasili, I have got this precious work of art. What do your masters say? Are they prepared to pay me eight million dollars for the return of this magnificent treasure?”

Vrenschov looked like a man about to die.

“I fear not, Mr Radnitz.”

Radnitz stiffened. He glared at Vrenschov.

“What are you saying? This icon is one of the oldest possessions Russia owns! It is worth twenty or even more million dollars! It has caused the President of the United States to be embarrassed. What will they give me for it?”

Vrenschov crushed his greasy hat between his hands.

“I fear nothing, Mr Radnitz.”

Radnitz reared back.

“Nothing?”

“I have talked to the Minister of Arts,” Vrenschov said. “He is a great admirer of yours, Mr Radnitz. He has instructed me to confide in you a state secret in view of the fact that you are such a good friend of our country. Thirty years ago, when Premier Stalin was our ruler, the Catherine the Great icon was stolen. No one knows who stole it. The then Minister of Arts knew he would be placed before a firing squad if the news leaked out. He had a very clever replica made and this replica has been on show at the Hermitage until it was stolen from Washington.” He pointed a trembling finger at the icon on Radnitz’s desk. “That, sir, is the replica. The Minister of Arts told me to ask you to accept it as a souvenir of your continued interest in the Soviet Union.”

He turned and practically ran out of the room, leaving Radnitz staring bleakly at the icon.