Here Comes Charlie M

FOURTEEN

Perhaps, thought Wilberforce, arranging the money on the desk for everyone to see had been too theatrical. Onslow Smith was openly smirking, he saw, annoyed. That would stop, soon enough. The time had passed when people laughed at George Wilberforce; and from today they would begin to realise it.

‘Just over two hundred thousand dollars,’ said the British Director, indicating the money. ‘About half of what was stolen from you … and no affidavits that might have caused problems.’

‘So now we kill him,’ Ruttgers interrupted impatiently.

‘No,’ said Wilberforce simply.

For several moments there was no sound from any of the men in the room. It was Sir Henry Cuthbertson who broke the silence.

‘What do you mean, no?’ he demanded. ‘We’ve achieved what we set out to do. Let’s get the whole stupid business over.’

‘No,’ repeated Wilberforce. ‘There are other things to do first.’

‘Director,’ said Onslow Smith, trying with obvious difficulty to control himself, ‘this affair began with the intention of correcting past problems. We’ve put ourselves in a position of being able to do so. Let’s not risk making any more.’

‘I intend teaching the Russians a lesson,’ announced Wilberforce.

‘You’re going to do what?’

Onslow Smith’s control snapped and he looked at the other Director in horror. The damned man was on an ego trip, he realised.

‘For almost two years they’ve mocked and laughed … I’ve been ridiculed. Now I’m going to balance the whole thing.’

‘Now wait a minute,’ said Onslow Smith urgently. He stood up, nervously pacing the room. ‘We agreed, not a month ago, that what we were attempting to do was dangerous …’

He looked intently at the Briton for reaction. Wilberforce nodded.

‘But it worked,’ continued Smith. ‘Charlie Muffin is now back in England. We can do anything we like with him. So now we just complete the operation as planned and invite no more problems.’

‘There will be no problems,’ insisted Wilberforce, quietly. They were all very scared, he decided.

‘With Charlie Muffin, there’s always risk,’ said Braley breathily, risking the impertinence. Surreptitiously he slipped an asthma pill beneath his tongue.

‘How do you intend teaching the Russians a lesson?’ asked Cuthbertson.

From the rack on his desk, Wilberforce selected a pipe and began revolving it between his fingers. Sometimes, he thought, he felt like a kindergarten teacher trying to instil elementary common sense. It would be pleasant hearing them apologise for their reluctance in a few days’ time.

‘I’ve already seen to it that the Russians know we’ve located the man,’ he admitted.

‘Oh, Christ!’ blurted Onslow Smith, exasperated. Already, he thought, it might be too late.

Wilberforce shook his head sadly at the reaction.

‘And tonight, for a little while at least, we are going to borrow the Faberge collection that has just arrived from Russia for exhibition here.’

‘You’re going to do what?’

Onslow Smith appeared in a permanent state of shocked surprise.

‘Take the Faberge collection,’ repeated Wilberforce.

‘The Russians will go mad,’ predicted Braley.

‘Of course they will,’ agreed Wilberforce. ‘That is exactly what I intend they should do: And what will they find, when we leak the hint about one of the insurers of the collection? What we found, by elementary surveillance and checking the company accounts after the churchyard encounter with Rupert Willoughby — that their precious Charlie Muffin is a silent partner in the firm.’

‘It’s lunacy,’ said Smith, fighting against the anger. ‘Absolute and utter lunacy.’

‘No it’s not,’ insisted Wilberforce. ‘It is as guaranteed against fault as the method I devised to get Charlie Muffin back to England.’

‘But we can’t go around stealing jewellery,’ protested Cuthbertson.

‘And I’m not interested in settling imagined grievances with Russia. It’s over, for Christ’s sake. It has been, for years,’ said Smith.

‘Not with me, it hasn’t,’ said Wilberforce. He turned to the former Director. ‘And I’ve no intention that we should permanently steal it. The Faberge collection is priceless, right?’

Cuthbertson nodded, doubtfully.

‘But valueless to any thief,’ continued Wilberforce. ‘He’d never be able to fence it.’

‘So why steal it in the first place?’ asked Ruttgers.

‘For the same reason that such identifiable jewellery is always stolen,’ explained Wilberforce. ‘Not to sell or to break up. Merely to negotiate, through intermediaries, its sale back to the insurers who would otherwise be faced with an enormous settlement.’

They still hadn’t understood, realised Wilberforce. Perhaps they would, after it had all worked as perfectly as he intended.

‘With something as big as this, the insurers are guaranteed to co-operate and buy it back,’ he tried to convince them. ‘Every piece, apart from those which are absolutely necessary to achieve what I intend, will be back in Leningrad or Moscow within two months. And the only sufferers will be Willoughby’s insurance firm who have had to pay up on the missing items. And Charlie Muffin, who will lose the other half of what he stole from you … paying America back for something stolen from Russia. Can’t you see the irony of it? Charlie Muffin will. That’s why I’m letting him stay alive, to see it happen. There’s no hurry to kill him now … he can’t go anywhere and he knows it.’

When there was still no response, Wilberforce pressed on: ‘We’ll have put the Russians in their place and there won’t be a service, either in the West or the East, who won’t know about it … because I’ve already made damned sure it’s being spelled out, move by move …’

‘It’s very involved,’ said Cuthbertson reluctantly.

‘And foolproof,’ said Wilberforce. ‘No risk. No danger.’

‘There are too many things over which we haven’t any control,’ said Ruttgers, through a tobacco cloud. ‘Charlie Muffin has only got to do one thing we don’t expect and the whole thing is thrown on its ass.’

‘But it won’t be,’ said Wilberforce. ‘The jewellery is being taken tonight. Once that goes, everything else follows naturally. It hardly matters what Charlie Muffin does. He’s helpless to affect it, in any way. In fact, that’s exactly what he is — helpless.’

‘What about the civil police?’ protested Smith. ‘They’re already involved in the bank robbery. There’s a risk there.’

‘We employed a petty crook on that … the same one who will be used tonight. We’ll arrange his arrest, so that most of the stuff taken from the Brighton bank can be recovered and returned to its owners — those not too frightened of any tax investigation to claim it, anyway.’

‘He’ll talk,’ said Smith.

‘About what?’ enquired Wilberforce. ‘A mystery man called Brown who seems to have an enormous amount of inside information and knowledge?’

He nodded towards Snare, whose reluctance at the instructions he had been given that night was growing with the objections from the other people in the room.

‘The meetings are always arranged by telephone. They’ve only ever met at crowded railway stations. And they’ll part immediately after the Faberge robbery, just as they separated directly after the Brighton bank robbery. Packer can talk for as long as he likes and it won’t matter a damn. He’s a villain, with a list of previous convictions. Which is exactly why we chose him. We’ve even ensured that during the bank robbery he drank from a mug which was left behind, so there will be saliva contrasts for blood type identification. He’ll be sufficient for the police, especially when they’ll be able to return most of the property. Why can’t you accept that there is nothing that can go wrong?’

‘Because I’m not convinced it’s that easy,’ said Smith. He hesitated, then added quietly: ‘So I won’t agree with it.’

Wilberforce stared back expressionlessly at the other Director. He hadn’t expected an outright refusal.

Smith stood up, feeling he had to emphasise his reasons.

‘Not only is it dangerous,’ he said, ‘it’s stupid. Because it’s unnecessary.’

‘I don’t really see that there’s a great deal you can do to stop it,’ pointed out Wilberforce objectively. It was unfortunate he had to be quite so direct, he thought. In many ways, Smith’s growing condescension reminded him of his wife. At least, he decided, he’d be able to make Smith express his regret, later on.

For several moments, the two Directors stared at each other and Wilberforce imagined the American was going to argue further. Then Onslow Smith jerked his head towards Ruttgers.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

As the men walked to the door of the huge office, Wilberforce called out: ‘I do hope that you’re not severing our co-operation on this matter.’

Smith halted, looking back.

‘It was not I who ended the co-operation,’ he said.

Neither American spoke until they had settled in the back of the waiting limousine and were heading towards Grosvenor Square.

‘We going ahead by ourselves?’ asked Ruttgers, expectantly.

‘We bring men in,’ agreed Smith. ‘A lot more than were with you in Zurich.’

‘Why?’

Smith didn’t answer immediately.

‘Wilberforce is a sneaky son of a bitch,’ he said, after several minutes’ thought. ‘I’m not going to get our asses in any snare he’s laying for us.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Even when you can control the civil police, as Wilberforce can within limitations on a thing like this, a killing is still a killing. I’m not making a move against Charlie Muffin until I’m convinced that Wilberforce isn’t setting us up.’

‘More delays,’ moaned Ruttgers bitterly. ‘We’re giving the bastard a chance.’

‘But we’re not making any mistakes,’ said Smith. He’d already made too many, imagining there was safety in letting Wilberforce take the lead. It was time, thought Smith, that he started looking after himself. And that was what he was going to do.

Back in the Whitehall office, Cuthbertson stared at the Director’s desk he had once occupied.

‘They forgot to take the money with them,’ he said.

‘They’ll be back,’ said Wilberforce confidently.

Contacting Rupert Willoughby by telephone, instead of going personally either to his flat or City office, was probably a useless precaution, decided Charlie. But it might just reduce the danger to the younger man. So it was worth while. It was right he should feel guilt at compromising Sir Archibald’s son, he knew.

‘Warn me?’ queried the underwriter.

‘The robbery must mean they’ve found me,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s very easy for the department to gain access to bank account details. If they’re aware of the meetings between us, they’ll know the?50,000 inheritance has been moved from deposit. And probably guessed the other money came from me, as well.’

‘Couldn’t the robbery just be a coincidence?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s a guaranteed way to get me back here … where they can do what they like, when they like and in circumstances over which they’ll have most control.’

‘Christ,’ said Willoughby softly.

Very soon, thought Charlie, the man would appreciate it really wasn’t a game.

‘I’ve already had to involve you,’ apologised Charlie. ‘I’ve had to make a statement to the police and I gave you as a business reference.’

‘They’ve already contacted me,’ confirmed Willoughby. ‘I think I satisfied them.’

Law was very thorough, Charlie decided.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘I had little choice, did I?’ said Willoughby.

The attitude was changing, recognised Charlie.

‘What are you going to do?’ asked the underwriter.

‘I don’t understand enough to do anything yet,’ said Charlie. He stopped, halted by a thought If Wilberforce were the planner, he’d get perverse enjoyment moving against the son of the man he considered had impeded his promotion in the department.

‘Has anything happened to you in the last few weeks that you regard as strange?’ Charlie continued. ‘Any unusual business activity?’

There was a delay at the other end of the line, while the man searched his memory.

‘No,’ said Willoughby finally.

‘Sure?’

‘Positive. Whatever could happen?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re not very encouraging,’ protested Willoughby.

‘I’m not trying to be. I’m trying to be objective.’

‘What should I do?’ asked the underwriter.

‘Just be careful,’ said Charlie. ‘They’re bastards.’

‘Shouldn’t you be the one taking care?’

Charlie grimaced at the question. Wilberforce was using him like a laboratory animal, he thought suddenly, goading and prodding to achieve an anticipated reaction. When laboratory tests were over, the animal was usually killed. When, he wondered, would Wilberforce’s experiment end?

‘I am,’ promised Charlie, emptily.

‘When are we going to meet?’

‘We’re not,’ said Charlie definitely.

‘Let’s keep in touch daily, at least.’

The concern was discernible in the man’s voice.

‘If I can.’

‘My father always said there was one thing particularly unusual about you, Charlie. He said you were an incredible survivor,’ recalled Willoughby.

But usually he’d known from which way the attack was coming, thought Charlie. Willoughby had meant the remark as encouragement, he recognised. To which of them? he wondered.

‘I still am,’ he said.

‘I hope so,’ said the underwriter.

‘So do I,’ said Charlie. ‘So do I.’