Charlie Muffin U.S.A.

10

Giuseppe Terrilli chose a downtown Miami Howard Johnson hotel for the meeting with Chambine, confident of the anonymity. He arrived early, but found Chambine waiting for him. Still club soda, the millionaire noted.

Chambine made to rise, but Terrilli gestured him down, not wanting any indication of deference that might be remembered by a curious waiter. They delayed until one came and completed the order before talking. Terrilli realised the younger man had selected a table apart from others in the bar so that they could not be overheard.

‘Well?’ demanded Terrilli.

‘Fairly standard security,’ reported Chambine. ‘Electronic surveillance and the cases are wired, I suspect. A rotating staff of twenty uniformed people and some plainclothes. I don’t think more than ten. Pinkerton chief is a man called Pendlebury. There is also an Englishman representing the insurers.’

‘Anything unusual about them?’

Chambine shook his head. ‘Has-beens, both of them.’

‘What do you think?’

‘It’ll need proper planning,’ said Chambine, ‘but it won’t be too much of a problem.’

Terrilli smiled, impressed with the answer. Most people trying to please, as Chambine was, would have boasted that it would be easy and that would have shown worrying immaturity.

‘Fixed the number of people you’ll need?’

‘Six, like I originally estimated.’

‘Got them?’

‘All arranged,’ said Chambine. ‘Two from Vegas, one from Chicago, one from Philadelphia, and two from Los Angeles.’

‘Why the spread?’

‘I didn’t think it would be sensible to recruit all from the same city. It might have been noticed.’

Chambine was good, decided Terrilli.

‘What do they know?’ he demanded.

‘That they’re getting $50,000 for a heist, no questions asked.’

‘Organisation men?’

‘Every one. Just doing a little freelancing.’

‘For whom?’

‘Me,’ said Chambine. ‘I saw no point in involving you.’

‘You’re very thoughtful.’

‘I’ve tried to be, Mr Terrilli.’

‘I’m very grateful,’ said the older man. ‘And I intend to show it.’

Chambine smiled, a hopeful expression. ‘I’d like another meeting, if it’s possible, to discuss the final planning. And I’m a little concerned by the security at your house.’

‘It’ll be arranged on the night, don’t worry,’ promised Terrilli. ‘You’ll be expected.’

‘There won’t be any trouble?’ asked Chambine.

Terrilli smiled, knowing the meaning of the question.

‘My people do as they’re told. There’s no cause for them to resent an outside operation.’

‘What about Mr Santano?’

Terrilli let the other man know by the silence before he replied how near he was coming to impertinence.

‘Santano will do as he is told, like everyone else. If you join my operation after everything is over, it’ll be for the two of you to create a working relationship.’

Realising he had gone far enough, Chambine said, ‘Unless you think otherwise, I intend to be the only person to remain on the island after the robbery. I’ll bring the rest in and out the same night. It cuts down the risk of a chance arrest if the robbery is discovered earlier than I plan it to be.’

‘These guys got records?’ demanded Terrilli instantly.

Chambine coloured. ‘I’ve been as careful as I can. They’re all minor things… juvenile stuff…’

Terrilli took several moments to reply, apparently thinking. ‘In and out the same night,’ he agreed, finally. ‘It won’t matter how minor the convictions if they get arrested.’

‘If the worst were to happen, they could only identify me,’ reminded Chambine.

‘And you could identify me.’

‘I wouldn’t do that, Mr Terrilli. Whatever happened, I’d never point the finger at you.’

‘You’d die,’ said Terrilli, unemotionally. ‘Irrespective of any trouble it might or might not cause, you’d have to die.’

‘That’s why I wouldn’t do it,’ said Chambine, and Terrilli laughed aloud at the honesty.

‘I think we are going to get on well,’ said Terrilli. ‘Very well.’

‘I thought our next meeting should be at least four days before we actually lift the stuff, to give me time to make alternative plans in case you don’t like those I put forward.’

‘Agreed,’ said Terrilli immediately.

‘I’m assembling everyone in Disneyworld,’ announced Chambine.

‘Disneyworld!’

‘Fifty thousand people a day, none knowing the other,’ pointed out Chambine. ‘It’s got to be the perfect place.’

‘I suppose so,’ agreed Terrilli, with obvious reluctance.

‘You and I could always meet elsewhere, of course,’ offered Chambine, discerning the other man’s attitude.

‘No,’ replied Terrilli, after thinking. ‘I like it. I really do. When are you bringing the other people in?’

‘The two from the West Coast are arriving tomorrow. The others at daily intervals.’

‘Will you put them together immediately?’

‘No,’ said Chambine. ‘It’s always possible they may know each other, of course. Vegas isn’t far from Los Angeles. But I won’t establish the link until the weekend. There’s no point until then. And six men hanging around might attract attention.’

‘Do you need any more money?’ asked Terrilli, indicating the briefcase beside him.

‘No thank you,’ said Chambine.

Terrilli lapsed into silence. Chambine sat attentively, not attempting to lead the conversation.

‘I like very much your keeping me out of it,’ said Terrilli, breaking the pause. ‘On the night of the robbery, when the collection arrives at my house, I’ll not meet any of them personally. I’ll pay you off in a separate room and you can pay them in turn…’

Chambine nodded.

‘It wouldn’t take anyone long to discover who lived in the house, of course,’ went on Terrilli, thinking aloud. ‘But if no one actually sees me, then they can’t prove anything.’

‘I think that’s a wise safeguard,’ agreed Chambine.

Terrilli sat back in his chair, the movement indicating that the discussion was over.

‘I’ve rooms at the Contemporary Resort in Disneyworld,’ said Chambine. ‘Would Sunday be convenient to you?’

‘Noon,’ agreed Terrilli, rising.

The two men shook hands and Terrilli went out into the foyer, nodding to the doorman’s query about taxi. He asked for the Omni complex on Biscayne Boulevard, paid before he left the car and took the elevator as if going into the shopping complex. Instead he cut through to one of the linking entrances into the Omni Hotel, descending to the foyer and within fifteen minutes was in another taxi, going uptown towards the Tuttle Causeway joining the mainland to Miami Beach. He paid the taxi off a block away from the Fountainbleau, finishing up the journey on foot, and entered the hotel through one of the side doors near the golf course.

At the desk he enquired for messages, said he was checking out and sat waiting for his luggage to arrive. It came out of the service lift at the same time as his chauffeur entered, looking for him. Without speaking, Terrilli indicated the cases, walking out ahead to the waiting car.

It was rare to find anyone as efficient as Chambine, Terrilli decided. The man would make an excellent lieutenant: better than Santano, who was becoming over-ambitious. He nodded to himself, reaching the decision. He would allow a proper length of time, after the robbery, for Chambine to become fully acquainted with the operation and then have Santano put away.

‘Turn up the air conditioning,’ ordered Terrilli as the driver pulled out on to Collins Avenue. Walking to the Fountainbleau had made him sweat.

How long would it be until Chambine became ambitious? he asked himself. They all did, in the end. And had to be killed. Terrilli sighed. He had always considered it unfortunate, having to waste such talent. It was a pity a way could not be found to suppress their aspirations, as eunuciis were treated in order to become caretakers in harems.

‘Will we be stopping anywhere, Mr Terrilli?’ asked the driver.

‘No,’ said Terrilli. ‘Straight home.’

He had decided to spend the afternoon with his stamps. When the Romanov Collection arrived, he would have to get more display cases and racks installed.

Whatever the permutations, there could only be one conclusion, decided Charlie. With it came the sweep of nausea similar to that he had known eight years before in the Sussex churchyard in which Sir Archibald Willoughby was buried, when he had realised he had probably been recognised and was only a pistol shot from disaster.

Pendlebury had unquestionably lied about working in New York. Yet Heppert considered him genuine. The man had practically dated the photograph of his over-indulgent wife by talking of her two-month Weight Watchers membership. Pendk-bury couldn’t be a criminal because he could not possibly have inveigled himself into such a position of seniority within a security organisation in that time. So he had to be there by consent. To whom would Pinkerton consent to provide such a cover? A policeman, obviously. Yet the exhibition had opened in New York and was now in Florida. Not a local policeman, then, but Federal. Why would the F.B.I. want to attach a man to a stamp exhibition? And not just attach, Charlie corrected himself; put in over-all security control.

The solution fell into a neat, logical sequence. But Charlie still felt the need for confirmation. He reached out for the telephone, realising before attempting it that the test might not work.

Directory information gave him the Houston telephone number of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and he dialled it himself so that there would be no operator record of the call.

Had the professionalism not been so deeply ingrained, Charlie might have made the mistake of enquiring for Pendlebury the moment the call was answered. But he didn’t, knowing that it would be at the switchboard that the man would be best protected against such an approach.

He asked instead for the station manager, refused to be deflected to an assistant, and when the man finally came on the line did not ask a question but stated a fact.

Jack Pendlebury had told him he would be out of town for a few weeks, Charlie said. But he had the information that Pendlebury had asked him to obtain and was anxious to know when he would be returning.

‘We’re not sure,’ said the F.B.I. manager. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘No,’ replied Charlie, putting down the telephone. The man already had more than he would ever know.