Precipice

23

Arriving in Geneva, Marler took the same route Paula had followed. He travelled in a taxi, asking to be dropped outside the Hotel des Bergues. There, unlike Paula, he didn't enter the hotel.

Instead, carrying his bag, he crossed the Rhone, which was swollen, by using the footbridge. He paused several times, putting down his bag as though it was heavy, and changing it to the other hand. As he did so he glanced back. The footbridge was empty. For Rico Sava's sake it was important he was not followed.

It was supposed to be daylight but February had ended and March had begun. The worst time of the year for bad weather. Overhead dark clouds drifted over the city, which was just waking up. It was more like a dirty dusk than daylight and he had to watch his footing. The footbridge was a solid sheet of ice.

Leaving the footbridge, he threaded his way into the street where Sava lived and carried on his illegal business. It was almost dark despite the fact that the street lights were still on. He walked past the heavy door leading into Sava's shop. His instinct told him he was being watched.

And I'm not armed yet, he thought. He walked a long way, turned back suddenly. No one in sight. You are getting paranoid, he told himself. Arriving back at the heavy door he closed his eyes after pressing the bell, remembering the glaring light.

It came on. There was the usual wait. Then the Judas window was opened.

'We are closed.' Sava's voice said in French.

'Not to me. It's Marler. Marler,' he repeated.

The glaring light was switched off, the door was unlocked and he walked slowly into the dark. Sava closed the door, relocked it, switched on a light, took the hand Marler had extended, and clasped it between both his own.

'As always, you are most welcome. Not just for the business you bring me, but for yourself. Why do you never pay just a social call, have a drink with me?'

'I will do. One day. What's your tipple?'

'A fine old brandy.'

'You shall have one. When I have the time. Or maybe a couple?' Marler said with a smile.

'A couple, drunk slowly – so we have time to talk. And now, what can I supply you with?'

Marler rapped out his list, a long one. For the first time since he'd known him Sava stared in amazement.

'You are going to clean up Switzerland, start a small war?'

'The other side will start the war, we'll finish it.'

'But you need something to carry that cargo.'

Marler slapped his suitcase on a table top, unlocked it, took out two large flattened bags with shoulder straps which lay on top of his neatly folded clothes. He gave the canvas holdalls to Sava, who took them and began to accumulate what Marler had ordered. He packed them carefully away.

Two friends of yours called here yesterday.' Sava remarked with a smile.

'I know.'

Twiddling a king-size between his fingers but not lighting it, Marler noted Sava had not mentioned one of them had been a woman. A very discreet man. Sava placed a tin ashtray on the table.

'You may smoke. Please do. I will not be very much longer.'

Every item was carefully wrapped in polythene, stacked so nothing would move. Which was important, Marler thought – considering some of the items he'd ordered.

'I seem to remember there's a taxi rank at the end of the street.' Marler recalled. 'Near the Brasserie.'

'That is so. You will be heavily weighed down.'

'One bag over each shoulder and I can carry the suitcase in my hand. Give me the Walther and a hip holster. I'll want that where I can get at it easily.'

'You are a wise man.'

Marler stripped off overcoat and jacket, fastened on the hip holster, checked the Walther's action briefly, slid a magazine Sava handed him in the butt, then slid the gun inside the holster.

Sava told him how much it would all be with a generous discount and Marler took a fat envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket, counted out thousand-franc notes.

'Take care of yourself,' Sava said as he helped Marler on with his overcoat.

Hoisting each of the holdalls on to a shoulder by the straps, Marler picked up his bag as Sava went to the door and started dismantling the fortress.

'And you take care of yourself,' Marler told him. 'I won't forget the two large brandies.'

It was a remark he was later to recall bitterly.

The man inside the darkened arcade on the opposite side of the street stayed in the shadows until Marler had disappeared. He then crossed the street, stood in front of the heavy door set back in an alcove. He glanced up and down the street. A few vague silhouettes trudging off to work in the distance. He reached up inside the alcove on his right, pulled at a small metal box which had been attached to the stone wall by suckers. When it came free he pushed aside the hood covering his head, held the box close to his ear, pressed the button which would activate the listening device.

We are closed…

Not to me. It's Marler. Marler…

The words came out clearly, quietly. He shoved the box inside the pocket of his overcoat, took a deep breath, then pressed the bell. A glaring light came on.

He had a long wait. He was used to waiting. Then the Judas window opened.

'Who is it? We are closed.'

'Marler sent me back. Marler needs something else.' the voice said in French, the language which had been used in the recording. The glaring light was extinguished.

Another wait while locks were unfastened, bolts drawn. The door swung inwards and the visitor stepped inside cautiously. Sava closed the door, switched on the light.

His visitor appeared to be of medium height, shoulders stooped. He looked fat, the buttons on his overcoat straining at the threads. He wore a scarf over the lower half of his face, a hat pulled well down over his forehead. He stood very still.

'Well?' Sava asked, an uncertain tone in his voice. 'I thought I had supplied everything.'

'A Smith and Wesson. 38.'

'He wants a second one?' Sava asked.

'Yes, he does.'

'Odd.' Sava stood hesitantly. 'He's never forgotten anything before.'

'A gun like that one over there.'

The visitor pointed. It was a reflex action on Sava's part to look behind him, although his brain told him there was no weapon on view.

As he turned round, the visitor moved swiftly. One powerful arm locked itself round Sava's neck. The other fell on his victim's left shoulder, holding him still. The visitor's arm performed a certain movement. Sava sagged in his arms, his neck broken. He was lowered to the floor on his back, a corpse in seconds. Whoever found him would see his neck turned at a grotesque angle, his eyes open, seeing nothing any more.

The visitor removed his thick motoring gloves, exposing hands wearing surgical gloves. He swiftly fiddled with the security on the door, opened it a short distance, peered out. No one about. He pulled the door almost shut behind him after putting on his motoring gloves and shuffled off down the street. He didn't want too long to elapse before the body was discovered. After all, he was entitled to his fee.