The Melting Man

CHAPTER SIX

I drove without hurry south from Evian. In Grenoble I went into the Post Office and found the Botin for the Gap-St Bonnet district and turned up Max Ansermoz's number at the Chalet Bayard. I rang through — it was now about seven o'clock — and the phone rang for ten minutes without being answered. That was good enough for me. With any luck the only living thing in the house was the white poodle and by now it must be damned hungry.

I had a quick meal in Grenoble, and then went south down the N85 towards St Bonnet and Gap. I didn't try to push it. This was my second night on the road and my eyelids had begun to feel like heavy shutters that every bump in the road brought down. I pulled up for a couple of hours' sleep somewhere around a place called Corps, and then drove on to the Chalet Bayard. I came to it at dawn with little wisps of mist lying between the trees and the air full of bird-song, which shows how isolated the place was because normally if a bird gives out with an aria anywhere in France some chasseur promptly blows its head off.

The front door was still open and I walked straight in and was greeted by the poodle lying curled in an armchair. A few days without food had taught it manners and it came to me, trembling and with all the bounce gone from it. I gave it some water in the kitchen — the cat had disappeared, which didn't surprise me, cats can knock spots off any dog in the independence and survival stakes — and then fed it a bowl of scraps which I had scrounged in the restaurant where I had fed. In half an hour I knew it would be its same old jaunty, face-licking self. While it was tucking in I went upstairs and had a bath and shave, and then came down and carted Max's typewriter and some of his stationery to the round table, and wrote a letter to Otto. I had to write it in English because my French would never have been good enough to fool anyone that it had come from Max. And the fact that it was in English wouldn't matter to the people who opened it because I guessed they wouldn't know much about the way Max usually wrote to Otto.

The letter read:

My dear Otto,

I found a wad of cancelled cheques in the bureau and without much care forged the signature 'Max' to the letter. I addressed it to Otto Libsch at Mimi's flat and then drove into Gap and sent it express. When I got back I was greeted by the poodle, all its elastic reset, gave it a stroll through the pines and then shut it up in the kitchen.

Back in the main lounge I settled down with a large glass of Max's brandy and pulled out Durnford's sheet of paper, which I had already glanced at, knowing that it demanded a lot of thought. Before I could start on it, the ginger cat walked in from nowhere and came and sat in the empty fireplace and stared at me, accepting a new owner without comment.

The list of guests was in Durnford's handwriting. The château had been given over to them completely for five days. Durnford commented (the list was full of little comments, as though he were aching to say more, willing to wound but afraid to strike) that O'Dowda often let business associates and friends have the use of the château. Not all the guests had stayed for the full five days. The principal guest was a General Seyfu Gonwalla. Durnford commented that he did not have to tell me who he was. He did not. The General had stayed there in strict incognito — none of the servants had known who he was. (For my money, it was probable that he had made the trip to Europe in strict incognito, too.) He had stayed four out of the five days, missing the first, when there had only been one guest, the General's aide-de-camp, who had preceded him to see that all the appropriate arrangements had been made. And, surprise, surprise, the aide-de-camp was named as Captain Najib Alakwe. (I'd chewed that one over for a long time during the night drive, and for my money again, Najib had to be a Jekyll-and-Hyde character, though at the moment I didn't know which of the two I had had dealings with.) Najib had stayed the full five days. The next guest, and she had stayed for the middle three days, was a Mrs Falia Makse (strict incognito). She was, Durnford noted, the wife of the Minister of Agriculture in General Seyfu Gonwalla's government. Also for the middle three days there had been present a Miss Panda Bubakar. There was no comment against her name — though I could have made one. For the last two days only — and no comment also — there had been present a Mr Alexi Kukarin. And that was the lot.

At the bottom of the sheet, Durnford had added a note:

I destroyed it then and there, burning it in the fireplace while the cat watched without much interest. That I did destroy it didn't necessarily mean that Durnford was a good judge of character. It simply struck me as a sensible thing to do with people like the Alakwe brothers, Aristide, Tony Collard and so on around.

I sat back and gave some of my attention to the rest of the brandy. The other part I gave to O'Dowda and General Seyfu Gonwalla. If I were right, Gonwalla, as Head of State, was the guy who now thought he should have the twenty thousand pounds' worth of bonds. Odd that O'Dowda thought not, yet gladly lent him the château for a five-day conference, if that were the word for it.

I reached back and picked up the phone and booked a call to Wilkins in London. It came through much later.

Wilkins said, 'Where are you?'

'France.'

'I know that, but where?' She sounded cross and clucking like a disturbed mother hen.

'A chalet in the Haute Savoie, very comfortable, with a white poodle and a marmalade cat, well, ginger, to keep me company. No women — glad?'

She said, 'I thought you must be dead.'

'Why?'

'Because that Mr Jimbo Alakwe was here this morning offering to buy out your share in this firm.' She paused, enjoying the moment to come. 'He said that with imaginative and efficient running he could make a real success of it.'

'He's a comic — but not as much as he would like people to think. Anyway, I'm alive and kicking, and I want a precis of all the press comments you can get on General Seyfu Gonwalla, Mrs Falia Makse, and possibly though I doubt it, a Miss Panda Bubakar. And I particularly mean the outer-edge comments that run near libel. You know the kind of stuff, "great and good friend of". Also — I hope you're getting all this down?'

'The tape is on, naturally.'

'Also any record you can find of dealings, difficulties or troubles that any of O'Dowda's companies, especially that United Africa job, may have had, or are having, with Gonwallas regime. Also, ring Guffy, or invite him out for a coffee and Danish cakes, and see if he'll admit that at some time or the other, meaning fairly recently, he's had some more anonymous letters suggesting that O'Dowda is worth investigating from a personal point of view, that is to say—'

'You needn't elaborate. But I doubt if Superintendent Foley would tell me anything like that.'

'You try. He goes for blue-eyed redheads. Or offer to darn his socks, the heels are always gone.'

'Is that all?' The old tartness was back.

'No,'. I gave her the telephone number of the chalet, so that she could ring back, and went on, 'And don't fuss. I'm well and happy and not lonely. In fact I've an interesting guest arriving soon who will be able to tell me, possibly under duress, where the Mercedes is located. Isn't that good?'

'You sound,' she said, 'too pleased with yourself. That means you're probably up to your neck in trouble.'

'Well, so what? That's life. Didn't the OT expert on it say that Man is of few days, and full of trouble?'

'Or else you've been drinking. Goodbye.'

She was right, of course. It's funny how you can sit in a chair occupied with your thoughts and the brandies go down unnoticed.

I had a great night, ten hours of dreamless sleep with the poodle at the foot of the bed and the cat on the spare pillow.

The cat woke me by kneading determinedly on my chest, and when I blinked at it said it was time to let him out to forage for his breakfast which I could hear singing in the nearby scrub. The poodle slept on, knowing there was no point in moving until I was down slaving away in the kitchen at his and my breakfast.

After that it was a matter of waiting and taking what precautions I could. The moment my letter arrived in Turin I was sure that Mimi and Tony would open it. Tony would come, as fast as he could, to make sure that Max never got anywhere near grassing on him to any Aristide. If the letter arrived by first post, it meant Tony could be at the chalet by the evening. If by the afternoon post, then he could make it by midnight or early morning. Whenever he came I just couldn't afford to be sleeping and not give him a welcome.

I spent the morning making a reconnaissance of the surroundings of the chalet. At the back, which I had not noticed on my first visit, well up in the pines, was a wooden shack which held a small Volkswagen saloon, Max's. I ran it down to the front of the chalet and put my Mercedes in its place. I didn't want Tony arriving and being confused by the sight of the Mercedes. Then I went down to St Bonnet and bought some supplies, but I had to cuff the poodle out of the car — my car — because someone in the place might recognize it.

When I got back the telephone was ringing. But instead of Wilkins it was some French woman asking for Max. It took me a little while to put over to her that Max was away in Cannes on a property deal and had lent me the chalet for a few days.

We all three had lunch together, sharing everything except a bottle of Clos-du-Layon vin rose. After that we took a long siesta, very long, until it was gin-and-Campari time, strictly one, because there was soon to be business ahead. Then I shut the animals in the kitchen, found a warm hunting coat of Max's, borrowed his twelve-bore and a handful of shells, and went and sat in the Mercedes where I could catch the lights of any car coming up the road to the chalet. I didn't want to be inside when Tony arrived. It wasn't going to give me any points as a host, but I felt that for this visit protocol could be dropped.

By midnight nothing had happened, except that I was colder than I thought I would be and wished I'd brought some brandy out. I sat there, thinking about a quick nip and how it was only a few yards away. The more I thought the colder I became — the chalet was up around the twelve hundred metre mark where the nights are chill at the end of September — and I was tempted to go and serve myself. It was only fifty yards to the chalet. I'm glad I didn't because Tony would have walked in on me as I had my hand on the bottle.

I had to give him full marks for his approach. Either he'd been to the chalet before or Mimi had briefed him. He must have parked his car well down the road and approached on foot. The first sign he gave me was a quick flicker of a torch away in the pines, a hundred yards to my right. I got it out of the corner of my eye, which, in my job, is what corners of eyes are for. Then there was just the darkness, the odd hoot of an owl and the noise of a plane droning overhead. The next flicker was when he hit the drive; brief, but enough to give him his surroundings.

I slipped out of the Mercedes and went cautiously down through the pines on my right. Ahead of me somewhere he had to be crossing left-handed to the chalet, even if he were going to avoid the front in favour of a side or back entrance.

Actually, he opted for the front entrance. When I was down level with the parked Volkswagen, I saw the torchlight come on and stay steady as he cowled it with one hand and examined the door. I'd locked the door and the key was in my pocket. That wasn't giving him any trouble. The torchlight went off and I could make out his bulk against the night sky as he worked on the door. He jemmied it, and well. There was just one quick scrunch of wood and steel going and then silence, and Tony standing there, waiting and listening. Nobody could tell me that this number was an amateur. I kept my fingers crossed and hoped the poodle wouldn't set up a racket inside and scare him off. The poodle was silent, stuffed with food still, and sleeping secure on that phoney reputation which dogs have conned mankind with since the first cave. Ask any TBN man.

Happy in his work, Tony pushed the door open and went in. I gave him a few moments and then I went after him. I slipped through the front door and at once saw his torch doing a low sweep round in the main room, the door of which was wide open.

I went gently to the door, flicked on the lights and raised the twelve-bore, holding the sights on his head as he turned quickly.

'Just keep your hands where they are. It's not my house and I don't mind blood on the carpets.'

He blinked at me through his steel-rimmed glasses and then gave me that babyish grin of his and a fat chuckle. It didn't fool me. He had only one way of expressing any emotion.

I went up and around him carefully. He was wearing rubber-soled canvas shoes, black trousers, a thick black sweater and for relief, a pair of white cotton gloves. From the corner of his left-hand pocket the handle of the jemmy stuck out. From behind him I reached out and retrieved it, slipping it into my coat pocket. Standing back I tapped his trouser pockets with my left hand, holding the gun in the right, barrel end pressed hard against his back. There was nothing bigger than a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in his pockets by the feel of it.

He said, 'I've got nothing but the jemmy, but I can see you're the thorough type, like my old man. Nothing on chance.'

I said, 'You can tell me about your father some other time. Turn around.'

He turned, beaming a Pickwick smile at me.

'Pull your sweater right up, but keep your hands in sight.'

He pulled his sweater up. He wore a singlet underneath and a leather belt round his trousers.

'Anyway, I've got nothing against you.'

I nodded to him to drop the sweater and said, 'Now, sit on the floor, keep your legs crossed and your hands at the back of your head. It's a tiring position but if you talk fast you won't have to hold it long.' I had memories of this room with its polished floor and sliding chairs.

He sat on the floor and I went three yards away from him and sat on the edge of the table, the shotgun cradled in my lap, covering him. Just then the poodle began to bark its head off. They time it well — the moment real trouble is over.

Tony, hands behind his head, said, 'That's a dog.'

'Don't be fooled. It's only the impression it likes to create. Now, give me the story from the moment you held up that payroll and then went away like bats out of hell in the Mercedes. I don't want any colourful matter about your emotions of the moment or unnecessary details. Just a plain unvarnished tale. I want to know what happened to the car, and what happened to Otto. Not that I care about him — the car's my concern. But it would be nice to hear that he's dead. And don't worry about my saying anything to the police. I'm in private business and I just want that car.'

'Wow! You had me fooled. That letter from Max, so-say.' He rolled his eyes in his horrible laughing manner. 'Yes, you're a number.' His face went serious. 'But you know, you got Mimi really upset with that letter. I had a terrible time with her, 'cos I didn't really want to do it. But she says if it's true bliss and a bright future we want, which it is, then there's nothing but come here and knock this Max off. I had to give in.'

I said, 'Why be squeamish about Max? You'd already got your hand in with Otto. Come on, now. Start talking.'

'But I didn't do anything to Otto. He did it to himself.' He started to chuckle. 'Yes, he did it to himself. I never laughed so much in all my life. It was real funny. Mind you, it was convenient, too. I mean, seeing that Mimi and me had decided anyway to give Otto his cards — on account of we loved one another. He was wanting out anyway, chiefly because of the baby. Even so, he'd have made trouble. But we were prepared to face that. Course of true love. Two hearts beating as one. My old man was pretty cynical about all that, of course. You'd think I'd be, too, wouldn't you? You know, just four legs in a bed, any bed, any four so long as two of 'em are yours and the others are a nice shape. But in our family sons must go by opposites. I'm a faithful man, you know. One woman's all I want.'

'Congratulations. Now get on with the bloody story.'

'Of course, of course.' He started to laugh, tears squeezing out of his eyes, and there was no doubt that it was genuine. I couldn't wait to be let in on the joke. There's nothing more annoying than people laughing and you right out in the cold as to why. He looked up at me, hands behind his neck, sitting there like a Buddha, and he wobbled his big head with joy. 'He was drunk, you know. Not stoned. But… well, well away. That's why it happened. Mind you, he was always like that after a job, excited, wings on him. You know feet right off the ground. It takes you all ways after a job. Me, well, I don't alter much — except I get bad heartburn. Never anything more.'

I said firmly, 'If you don't come to the point I'll—'

'All right. All right now. Just wanted you to know how it was. Yes, Otto was well away. That's why I never liked him driving, but he always would. Anyway, we took off in the car. We were only going to use it for about ten kilometres. Not safe otherwise. We had another waiting for us up in the mountains, ready for the switch and the ditch. The switch and the ditch!' He started to chuckle again and it rumbled around inside his throat like a caged bear trying to get out. I sat there and ordered myself to be patient. He had only one way of telling a story and there was nothing I could do about it. If it had been his gallows-side confession he would have laughed through it in his own good time until any priest would have wanted to crack him one and skip the final absolution.

He looked up at me, tears in his eyes, and said, 'It was the funniest thing you've ever seen.'

'It wasn't — because I didn't see it. But come on, tell me, and make me laugh.'

'Well… there was this place up in the mountains. Up a dirt road through woods to a lake. We'd left the other car there. Otto sang like a bird all the way there. Man, he was wild. You know, I think when he did a job there was something sexual about it for him. I was talking to Mimi about it—'

'Come to the point.'

For a moment he looked piqued, really hurt, like a fat, jolly boy who'd been reprimanded unjustly.

'Well… the other car was there, so we off-loaded the stuff into it, and then Otto ran the Mercedes close to the edge of the lake. It was an open slope, about ten yards of it, down to the lake edge and over a ten foot drop into deep water. Nobody goes up there much. Just a few fishermen. It's a beautiful spot. A good place to spend a day…' He rocked with a sudden outburst of fresh giggles. 'A great place to spend the rest of your days.'

In a minute he was going to tell me what size the trout ran to and I was going to clout him over the head with the shotgun.

He saw the look in my eyes and sobered up a little.

'Well, all you had to do was let off the hand brake and start her rolling. And that's all Otto did. He opened the door, reached in and let off the brake — and the Merc started rolling. Lord, I never saw anything so funny. The car went off before he was ready for it… really it did. Rolled away and the door swings back a little against him and somehow his jacket or something got caught up inside so that he was dragged with it, half in half out. You've got to believe me when I say I tried to get to him. It was instinctive. You see a man in trouble and you go to help — but it was too late. The tipsy bastard lost his head and he yells and pulls his feet up, half in and half out. I think he was trying to get at the brake again to hold the Merc. Before I could do a thing, he was over the side in a damn great splash.' He looked up at me, shaking his head at the comic wonder of it all, his plump face beaming, the little eyes shining with happy tears behind his glasses.

'And what did you do?' I got to my feet. 'Just stand there and read the service for those lost at sea?'

'I couldn't do a thing. I can't swim. And the lake, right off the edge there, is about twenty feet deep. Anyway, I knew Otto could swim, so I just waited for him to come up. But he didn't. I gave him fifteen minutes, but no sign of him… so what would you have done? What would any man have done in the circumstances? He was out of my hair, no trouble to Mimi any more — he really didn't like that baby, you know — and I got the full share of the payroll we'd taken. I just got into the other car and drove back to Mimi.'

'Laughing all the way.'

He grinned. 'Well, I had to chuckle now and then. Don't tell me you're upset about this? You said you hoped he was dead.'

'Frankly, I'm delighted. It's just that I'm old-fashioned enough not to show it by a good belly-laugh.'

Keeping him in sight, I went to the desk and got a pencil and a sheet of paper.

Tony was a bright boy.

'You want me to draw a map?'

I dropped the paper and pencil at his feet.

'Do that. And make it accurate. If you shove me off with any phoney details, I'll laugh my way to the nearest phone and ring a friend of mine at Interpol. Play ball — and you can shove off from here and I'll forget that I ever met you. You'd be surprise how easy that will be.'

'You can rely on me. Besides, I got Mimi and the baby to think about now.'

He sat on the floor and began to sketch out the details of the road and the track up to the lake, giving me a running commentary as I stood behind him.

Once, he looked up and said, 'What's all the fuss about this car anyway?'

'My client wants it back.'

He shrugged. 'Why — O'Dowda could make a better deal with the insurance company?' I went poker-faced.

'How did you know my client was called O'Dowda?'

'From Otto, of course, and the car. All the registration papers were in it when I did the respray.'

'Did Otto know O'Dowda?' Tony shook his head at me sadly.

'You haven't done your homework. Up to about two years ago Otto was second-chauffeur at O'Dowda's place near Evian. Used to drive the wife about. News to you?'

It was news to me — and news that suddenly made sense of a lot of things that had quietly puzzled me.

I said, 'Give me the map.'

He handed it over his shoulder and I stood back from him. 'What now?' he said.

'You blow,' I said. 'I'm not having the spare bed mucked up and I'm not making breakfast for two. On your feet.'

I escorted him to the front door and covered him as he went down the steps. At the bottom he turned and beamed up at me.

'Done you a good turn, haven't I? And all for free. No charge. Just goodness of heart. Know what, too? I've complete confidence in you. About that Interpol thing, I mean. Keeping your mouth shut and so on. I'm a good judge of character. I said to Mimi after you left, "Now, there's a buono raggazzo who—"'

'Skip it. I've got all the character references I need.'

'Okay. And when you finally lift that car out, just say hello to Otto for me.'

He went and I could hear his rich laughter burbling all the way down the drive. Life should have more characters like him, simple, uncomplicated, always ready to look on the bright side of things, and good with children, too.

I went back in and packed up my stuff and made myself a cup of coffee against the journey ahead. I should have skipped the coffee because then I would have missed Aristide.

As I picked up my suitcase in the main room and made for the hall door, I saw the headlights of a car wheel across the window. Not knowing who it was, but having various possibilities in mind, I had only one thought. Almost any visitor at four o'clock in the morning might be interested in the location of the Mercedes. I whipped out the plan which Tony had drawn and shoved it under one of the chair cushions. Then I picked up the shotgun from the table. It was a good gun, a well-used Cogswell and Harrison hammerless ejector with nicely engraved strengthening plates on the walnut stock.

I opened the door to the hall, prepared to welcome guests.

The main house door swung back and Aristide came through. He took off a beret and gave me a half wave with it, and then stood there, shaking his head either in sadness at the sight of me or to get the sleep out of his eyes. Behind him was his driver, a big fellow in a tight blue suit and a peaked chauffeur's cap.

'The shotgun, my friend,' said Aristide, 'will not be necessary. You were just leaving?' He nodded at the suitcase inside the room door. Then he sniffed the air and said, 'Coffee?'

'In the kitchen. Help yourself.'

'You must share it with me.'

He came down the hall, took the shotgun from me and handed it to his driver.

'Have a good look round, Albert. Miss nothing.'

He took me by the arm, steered me into the main room, glanced round, nodded approvingly, and said, 'Always it has been a dream with me to have such a place. Secluded, the mountains, peace, and the air so clean you can wear a white shirt for a week without dirtying it.'

Albert clumped by us, and I led the way into the kitchen. The poodle greeted me as though I had been away for a month. The cat opened one eye, and then closed it, dismissing the interruption to its sleep.

Aristide said, 'Excuse me,' and began to make fresh coffee. I found a tin of chocolate biscuits and put them beside him. Not to get into his good books but because I knew he would have found them for himself anyway. I said, 'How did you know I was here?' He said, 'I didn't, but I am glad you are. I was merely informed that this was the address of Max Ansermoz and that the place might be of immediate interest. Personally, I am sure that behind it all was a desire to embarrass you. You are embarrassed?'

'No more than usual. Who informed you?'

'It was a woman — on the telephone — and she gave her name as Miss Panda Bubakar. A fictitious name, of course. It is always that, or they remain anonymous.' He gave me a warm smile, and went on, 'There is cream somewhere?' I found him some cream.

'Did you know,' he said, 'that coffee, which is held in such high esteem in the Middle East, used once to be taken during prayers in the mosques and even before the tomb of the Prophet at Mecca? And at one time the Turks, on marrying, used to promise the woman that in addition to love, honour and a daily bastinado or whatever, she should never go short of coffee, and that we owe that filthy instant stuff to a countryman of yours called Washington who, while living in Guatemala — yes, Albert?'

Albert had appeared in the doorway.

'It is there, monsieur.'

'Good. Go back and stay with it. We will be with you in a little while.'

'What is where?' I asked as Albert disappeared.

Aristide stuffed a chocolate biscuit into his mouth, gener ously tossed one to the poodle who was walking around on its hind legs, and then said, 'You have had a visitor tonight?'

'No.'

'Then it was you who jemmied the front door? The jemmy is on the table out there.'

I said, 'Do me a favour, Aristide — don't save the main point till last. I've got a long drive ahead of me and want to get off.'

'You have found where the Mercedes is?'

'No.'

'A pity.'

'Why?'

'If you had, I might have stretched a point. The main point you were talking about. This is good coffee. Martinique. It was a great countryman of mine, one Desclieux, who under severe hardship brought the first coffee seedling to Martinique. You can always tell Martinique coffee, big grains, rounded at both ends and it is greenish in colour. Did you see Max Ansermoz at all on this visit?'

'No.'

'You are becoming monosyllabic.'

'What do you expect at this hour of the morning?'

'That you would be in bed, sleeping the sleep of the just. However, it is convenient that you are already dressed. Are you sure that you do not know where the car is?'

'Frankly, no.'

'Splendid. If you tell me where it is, you can go, and I shall ignore all that this Miss Panda has said ignore even the evidence of Albert's and my eyes, and even the fact — which I have no doubt the laboratory experts will establish — of your fingerprints.'

I said, 'I'd better have some coffee to clear my head.'

Graciously, he poured me a cup and another one for himself. Then he gave me one of his warm, owlish smiles, and said, 'Just tell me where the car is and I will smooth away all difficulties for you. I have the power — and after all I have, too, a certain affection for you. You have had a visitor tonight — otherwise you would not be leaving at this hour. The car, mon ami, where is it?'

I lit a cigarette and shook my head.

'You insist?'

'I insist,' I said. 'And what is more I insist on my rights. Unless you are going to make some charge against me, I wish to leave. Okay?'

I turned to go.

Aristide said, 'I think we had better join Albert first. He is a good man, Albert. Solid, a little slow-thinking, but a first-class driver. He comes from Brittany where they make a coffee substitute out of chickpea and lupin seeds. This way.'

He held out a hand with a gun in it and pointed towards the door on the far side of the kitchen through which Albert had gone.

I went through the door and he followed me. At the end of the corridor I could see Albert waiting. I'd been down here before when I had first searched the house. There were a couple of storerooms and a cellar. Albert was standing outside the cellar door.

As we approached he turned the key in the lock and opened the door for us. They stood aside and motioned me in first, Aristide switching the light on behind me.

One wall held racks of wine bottles. There was no window and there were empty crates and cartons stacked against another wall. Along the wall that faced the door was a big deepfreeze unit. The lid was pushed back, resting against the wall, and an internal light was burning in it, throwing a soft glow up to the ceiling.

One of them prodded me gently up to the deep-freeze. Lying inside, knees bent up, head sunk between his shoulders was Max Ansermoz. On a pile of frozen spinach cartons rested the gun with which Najib had killed him, and I didn't have to be told, because I already had been, that my fingerprints would be on it, placed there by Najib while I lay knocked out in the main room. Najib wasn't the kind of man to throw anything away that one day might come in handy.

'Well?' said Aristide at my side.

I stepped back. 'You'd better get the lid down,' I said, 'or the rest of the stuff will spoil.'

'You killed him,' said Aristide. 'I didn't — and you know it.'

'I only know it if you know where the car is. Otherwise we go to an examining magistrate. Your prints will be on the gun.'

'That won't surprise me.'

'If you know where the car is it will save endless complications… the slow progression of the law to establish innocence… the procés-verbal. Have you any idea how long it all takes?'

'How,' I asked, 'can I tell you where the car is if I don't know?'

Aristide studied me, shook his head and said, 'If only one could tell whether a person is telling the truth or not.'

'It would make police work simple, and cause a lot of confusion in domestic life.'

Aristide nodded and then said, 'Search him, Albert.'

Albert came over, turned me round, perhaps out of respect for the dead, to face the door, and then went through my clothes. He did it very thoroughly and handed his find to Aristide. Aristide shuffled through the stuff, passport, credit cards, wallet and so on, and then handed the lot back to me.

I said, 'Look, Aristide, you know I didn't kill Max. That doesn't mean to say I'm not glad he's dead — but I didn't do it. What you are doing is just falling for a gag — from another interested party — to keep me from finding that car.'

'It could be true, mon ami, but it is equally true that I don't want you to find that car, so… it is very convenient to have something to keep you busy elsewhere for a time.'

At this moment there was a bark outside the door and the poodle came bounding in. It ran a circle round the three of us and then got up on its hind legs and danced, begging, in front of Aristide.

He beamed.

'Mignon, non?' His calloused, police heart was touched.

'Don't fool yourself, Aristide. He just sees you as one big chocolate biscuit.' But as I spoke I was glad of the diversion. Both the men were watching the exhibition from the fool dog with happy grins on their faces. I stepped back to give the poodle more room for its act and, putting my hand behind me, got hold of the neck of the nearest bottle in the wine-rack. I jerked it out and slung it at the naked electric light-bulb. There was a crash and the light went out, followed by another, louder crash and a roar from Albert, but by this time I was at the door arid out, slamming it shut and turning the key in the lock.

I sprinted for the kitchen and was beaten by the poodle. Trust a dog to get the hell out of danger before anyone else.

I dashed through into the main room, picked up the shotgun, the map from under the cushion, and my suitcase and headed for the door, the poodle following. The cellar door was stout but I couldn't give it more than five minutes of pounding from Albert's big shoulders.

Outside I pumped both barrels of the shotgun into one of the rear tyres of Aristide's car. The noise sent the poodle, yelping hysterically, streaking for the woods, and then I ran for the Mercedes, wondering whether it was burgundy or claret which I had slung at the light. Either way Aristide was going to be angry. Wine, I was sure, was something which he always treated with respect.

The place where Otto and Tony had carried out the payroll robbery was St Jean-de-Maurienne, a small town of about seven thousand inhabitants on the N6, which is the road that runs eastwards from Chambery across Savoie to the Italian border at the Col du Mont Cenis and then on to Turin. It had been well chosen because it left them only about seventy-odd kilometres to reach the border. Fourteen kilometres east of St Jean there was a town called St Michel and some way out from this on the road to the border they had turned left-handed up into the mountains to their lake. From St Bonnet it was quite a drive, and no direct route to it. I reckoned I would make the lake sometime in the early afternoon. The payroll robbery, I learned later, had been from a small light engineering firm which had set up business on the eastern outskirts of St Jean-de-Maurienne. And later still, I learned that Otto had had this fixed pattern of hold-ups — knocking off a payroll in eastern France and then making quickly for the Italian border.

Dawn came up with a slight drizzle as I left St Bonnet and headed north. The rain slicked the road and cut down my speed. I stopped for coffee around nine o'clock in a small town and also bought myself a face-mask and snorkel, swimming trunks and a rubber-jacketed hand torch. For all I knew the lake water might be as clear as gin, but I wanted to be prepared. One thing I knew was that it would be as cold as hell.

I reached the lake soon after midday. It was two miles up a side track that climbed all the way through pine woods. It was still drizzling and, as I got higher, wisps of cloud began to sweep through the trees. The track ended, clear of trees, on a wide grassy plateau that overlooked a lake almost as big as the one O'Dowda had back in Sussex. On this side the ground was fairly level, broken with large grey boulders pushing through the bracken and scrub. On the other side — visible now and then through the mist — the ground rose steeply to a small crest. The surface of the lake was still, and the colour of gun metal.

I got out and walked to the edge of the plateau. Faintly in the thin grass I could make out the marks of Otto's car, and at the edge a big piece of ground had been broken fairly recently. There was a sheer drop of about fifteen feet into deep water. Looking down into it I could see nothing. It looked cold and uninviting and I felt a thin rise of goose pimples move across my shoulders and arms. I went back to the car, turned it round, and then stripped and put on the bathing trunks and the mask and went back to the bank. The cloud mist was thickening fast.

Somewhere down there was the car and Otto. I could rely on that because I knew Tony would never risk a lie with me. I didn't have to dive down and say 'hello' to Otto. I didn't have to grope about and recover what rested behind the air-intake grille. I could just go to the nearest phone and give O'Dowda the location and then send in my bill. All I'd been hired to do was to find the car. Whatever was hidden in it was no business of mine. O'Dowda and Aristide wanted it, and Najib wanted it for his employers. They could get on with it. It was no day for swimming and diving. All I had to do was to mind my own business. Simple. Except that few of us can resist minding other people's business — because just now and again it gives the chance of taking a commission on it. If Wilkins had been there she would have put her foot down firmly on ethical grounds and ordered me back to the car before I caught double pneumonia.

I scrambled down the bank until I was two feet above the water and then I jumped in feet first. I went in and nearly didn't come up. The cold hit me like a great hand squeezing the life from me. I surfaced, gasping for breath, blowing and swearing and in no mood to waste time. I didn't want my fingers to drop off before I could get down to that car.

I swam out a few yards, adjusted the mask and snorkel, took a deep breath, and went down, rubber torch in hand.

Underwater it wasn't as dark as I had imagined it might be, and I saw the car almost immediately. It was about ten feet away from me on the angle of my dive. It was lying tipped over to one side on the slope of the lake-bed. The driving-wheel side was the farthest away from me. I made it to the right-hand door, grabbed it to anchor myself and flicked on the torch. The window of the door was wound down. I beamed the torch around the inside and saw Otto at once. He wasn't a nice sight. He was wedged up like a grotesque carnival balloon against the roof of the car, his arms and legs dangling, marionette fashion, from the movement of my grasping the door. I took the torch off him quickly, swung it to the air intake to locate its position and then I let go and surfaced.

I trod water for a moment or two, wondering whether I was going to be sick, then took a deep breath and went down again. This time I worked without the torch, not wanting to see Otto buoyed up against the roof. I held the door with my right hand, shoved the torch into my trunks and reached in with my left hand. I got hold of the circular grille face and turned it. For a moment or two it wouldn't budge, then as the last of my breath was going, I gave it a jerk and felt it move.

I went up for a fresh supply of air and hung on the surface for a while like a played-out fish. The clouds had come lower and there was a dense, moving succession of mist wraiths wafting across the water. Somewhere up the slopes on the far side of the lake I thought I heard the soft tinkle of a cow-bell.

I went down again, and this time the grille turned easily and came away in my hand. I dropped it and reached into the aperture. I felt something flat and thick and pulled it out. It was about the size of a good fat book. I groped around to make sure there was nothing else in the compartment and then went up quickly without taking time for a goodbye to Otto.

I surfaced, pushed the mask back, sucked in great gulps of cold, misty air and looked at the object in my right hand. It was wrapped in thick brown oiled paper and banded all over with scotch tape. Shivering, hardly able to feel my hands or feet, I turned to make for the bank.

It was then that I saw — standing up above me on the plateau edge, a little fogged with the mist patches that swept by them — Miss Panda Bubakar and Najib Alakwe. They stood there and watched me as I stopped swimming and trod water.

Panda had a short leather coat flung open, her hands on the hips of a green mini-dress, her long, tight-encased legs seeming longer from the angle at which I viewed them. She was so tall that at times her head was lost in the moving patches of mist. But when her dusky face was clear I could see that she was giving me a cheerful, predatory smile and a chance to admire the sparkle of her white teeth. Najib, though I had little time to be surprised about it, was wearing a neat, sober grey suit and a dark tie on a white shirt. He stood back a little so I couldn't check whether he still had his ginger shoes. But I could see clearly that he was holding a gun in his right hand.

'Hello, hello, Rexy-dexy boy,' called Panda. 'Just keep swimming. You're on the right track. Big welcome awaits.'

'And be careful not to drop the parcel,' said Najib. Just to emphasize the need for care, he fired a shot into the water two feet from me which made me leap like a running salmon, and he called, 'No need for any alarm over personal safety. Just hand over the parcel and all is forgiven.'

'And Mamma will come up with a big brandy and nice rub down with rough towel. Whoof-whoof!' She gave that big, dark brown laughing bark of hers and did a couple of high kicks that would have left a Bluebell girl grounded.

I shook my head. 'Sorry,' I said, 'but I promised myself I would do a couple of lengths before I came out.'

'You come on straight out, lover-boy,' said Panda, 'otherwise you gonna freeze and lose all your accessories. Come on, come to Mamma. Mamma soon make baby warm.'

'Come on in,' I said. 'It's lovely. Don't know what you're missing.'

I turned, stuck the parcel between my teeth and flattened out into the nearest thing to a fast crawl that I could manage, heading away into the mist. I knew that Najib wouldn't fire at me. He didn't want me to drop the precious parcel. On the other hand that wasn't much consolation. I might make the other bank before they got round to it but I didn't fancy being stuck up in the mountains wearing only a pair of trunks. Even if I made a road I was going to have trouble thumbing a lift. The French aren't all that broad-minded.

After about twenty yards or so, I stopped, took the parcel out of my mouth and got some air. The mist hid the grass plateau now. That was good. But it also hid everything else. I hadn't the faintest idea which way to go. You can blindfold some people, dump them down in the dark and they can always tell where north is. Well, I could have been a homing pigeon but it still wouldn't have helped because I didn't have any home.

Just then, I heard Panda's delighted bark-laugh come through the mist and there was the crisp sound of a body diving into water. That scared me. She was after me, over six brown feet of human torpedo, impervious to cold water, and with a built-in radar device that could pick up a man and home on him from any distance. Once she got her long arms and lovely legs around me in the water I would have less chance than a minnow with a pike.

Parcel in my mouth, I went full ahead for a hundred yards, hoping to hit the bank. But I couldn't find any bank. I stopped, panting, no sensation in my body at all, and wondered how long it would be before Otto had company. From behind and to my right, some way away, I heard the water threshing as Panda screwed herself along. Then the sound stopped. All sound stopped. There was just the mist and the cold ripple of water around me. Then there was a sound. Up ahead of me I caught the brief tinkle of a cow-bell. I got moving. I swam thirty yards and then stopped. Somewhere behind me I heard Panda swimming. She didn't sound as though she were going fast; just heading steadily in my direction, keeping the blip of her screen dead centre. Over the noise of her swimming I heard the cow-bell tinkle again, but this time it was away at an angle to my right and the unpleasant thought occurred to me that there could be more than one cow browsing along the far shore. I did the only thing. I took a mean between the two bells and swam down it. Very sensible. In the circumstances.

But not good navigation. A mean course can land you in trouble. That's the catch with averages, they always give you a cock-eyed answer like the average English family has one and a half cars. I ran straight into Panda, simply because I hadn't allowed for the acoustic factor that sounds in a mist don't come from where they seem to come.

She came out of the mist four feet ahead of me, went astern to brake her way and gave me a big white tooth-flashing smile. Held in her teeth was a nasty-looking knife. She took the knife out of her mouth and said, 'Hiyah, honey. Come here often?'

I took the parcel out of my mouth, and through chattering teeth, said, 'You come a foot nearer and I chuck this overboard.' I held up the parcel.

She said, 'How we going to get warm if we don't get close?'

I said, 'Just switch your radar on the nearest cow-bell and lead the way.'

She shook her head and said, 'We do it side by side, lover-boy. And don't play no tricks on a poor girl what's achin' for love. You drop that parcel and I'm gonna slit you from gizzard to crutch and to hell with the waste of a good man.' She winked at me, and added, 'Anyone ever tell you you got nice shoulders? Kinda square and sexy — and I like 'em that blue colour. Goes well with the red face. Start tracking.'

We swam, four feet apart, and Panda just leading the way. I wasn't concerned with what was going to happen. I just wanted to get out of the freezing lake. My body was frozen, my mind was in need of de-icing, and my arms and legs moved as though I were swimming through mud. Only my eyes worked normally to help me keep station alongside Panda.

She grinned at me and said, 'Kinda nice, havin' the whole place to ourselves. Awful crowded in summer they say.'

I didn't answer. I had a mouth full of parcel. But I kept my eyes on her as we swam on.

She was stripped to her bra and long tights, pink, with a little balloon of trapped air swelling up over her backside, and every now and then she twisted her head to give me a beaming smile, which had a lot of mixed emotions bubbling in it. The least I could expect when we got to the bank was to be raped, then knifed. I thought of praying but decided against it. It never did a male mantis any good in the same circumstances.

Panda's radar worked. We bit the bank dead on the cow. It was a big brown-and-white beast, standing between two pines, blowing great gusts of vapour through its nostrils and it watched us with large, liquid, uncurious eyes.

Panda slid out of the water, and said, 'Hi, cow! Nice lake you've got here.' And then, water rolling over her brown arms and shoulders and rippling down her tights, she held the knife at me as I stood in six inches of water and mud at the verge. 'Just come out nice and easy, man, and then toss the parcel to Mamma. Business before pleasure, uh?' She threw her head back and bellowed, 'Najib! Najib!'

From somewhere through the mist distantly came an answering call.

Panda stood waiting for me. She was no fool. I might not know what was in her mind, but she knew what still dimly survived in the icy depths of mine. I didn't want to give her the parcel.

'No tricks, honey. I like you a lot and any time you say the word we'll shack up some place with a big bed and make the springs work double time. But first Najib must have his parcel. Okay?'

'Okay.'

I moved out of the water, but she stopped me after the first two feet.

'No more. Just toss it over.'

Somewhere up to our left Najib shouted. Panda shouted back. I looked down at the parcel in my hand, and remembered a lot of routines I'd been through in Miggs's gymnasium. Somewhere or other I guessed that Panda had been through even more routines, and she could give me inches in height, seconds in speed, and probably just as much in muscle, and she had a knife.

'Come on, honey. Flip it over. After that it's no hard feelings and loving kindness all round. Najib likes you and, what's more important, I like you and that spells a rosy future somewhere.'

Giving myself time to think, I said, 'Great help you've been — keeping Max on ice for me.'

'That? Honey, that was just for laughs. Come on, goose-pimples — give!'

I gave. I tossed the parcel to her and I deliberately threw it a little wide and a little short. It landed on the ground a foot in front of her and to her left. She flexed her gorgeous legs and bent, reaching for it with her free hand, her ample breasts sagging against the wet stuff of her white bra, and her eyes never left me except for the split second when eyes and hand had to coordinate to locate and pick up the parcel. It was the moment I wanted. I already had my hand on my trunks covering the bulge of the rubber torch inside. I had it out and jumped for her as her eyes came back to me. She made a good try. In fact she gave me a three-inch slash on my left arm but it was too hurried to be serious, just messy. It hit her as hard as I could just at the side of the right temple, really hard, and to hell with chivalry, and she went over on her back and stayed there.

I grabbed the parcel and ran, away round the lake in the opposite direction from which Najib's calling voice was coming. I didn't run for long, not in bare feet. But I kept going, hobbling fast, and luck was with me. I struck a small path, coated with dry pine needles and finally came back round to the grassy plateau.

Najib's Thunderbird was parked alongside my Mercedes. He'd left the ignition keys in so I took them and chucked them into the water. Then, without waiting to get dressed, I drove away, turning the heater up full blast. I couldn't wait to get to the nearest hot coffee and lace it with cognac.

As I drove down the track in the woods, and when I was almost in sight of the main road, a beaten-up yellow Citroen pulled suddenly out of the trees on to the track ahead of me and stopped. I braked to a halt about ten yards from it. Through the back window of the Citroen I could see a woman at the wheel. I waited for her to move on and while I did so, reached back for my shirt and trousers. I had them in my hand when the beaming, bespectacled face of Tony Collard appeared in the window across from me. He opened the door and got in, and, with a smoothness that astonished me, picked up the parcel from the seat and stuffed it inside his Windbreaker, reached back and got the shotgun, broke it and checked that there were no shells in it, and then, drawing a gun from his belt, said amiably, 'Just follow Mimi.'

He reached over and pressed the horn. The car ahead started to move. He prodded me in the ribs with the gun and I followed.

I said, 'If we've got far to go I'm not dressed for it.'

'We'll keep the heater going.' He looked admiringly at me and said, 'I had a bet with Mimi you'd make it. Five hundred francs. Great little gambler that girl. This is the thing there's all the fuss about?'

He held up the parcel.

I nodded.

'That's what your boss really wanted — not the car?'

'I wouldn't lie to you.'

'Course not, you're a buono raggazzo. But don't worry, Tony will take care of you and everything. You're my friend, in a sense.'

'What sense?'

'That I got respect for you. My old man always said if you want to succeed with people you got to work with their natures, not against them. How was Otto?'

'No complaints.'

'Good. Mind you, Otto had his points. The master mind — that's what he used to think he was, and he was to some extent. Do a job in France and scoot back to Italy. Do a job in Italy and scoot back to France. That's where we're going. A little hiding place we had this side of the border. Old mill, not working now, of course. Orchard with medlars and pears… lovely place for a kid to play. And a stream. Course, now Otto's gone that makes me the master mind. I can tell you, I had trouble with Mimi about it at first, but she's come round to my way. Did you have to rub out either of those two up there?'

We were out on the main road now and heading east. 'I was a bit rough with the girl.'

'Fix their car?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Then we can all relax.' He leaned back and lit a cigarette and began to hum to himself. After a while, he said, 'I don't mind being pushed around strictly in the way of business. Got to expect it now and then. Don't mind if anyone pushes Mimi around a bit, come to that. But' — he gave me a big smile and chuckled to himself — 'I'm dead against any bastards that could push a little baby around. That long-legged, dark number just chucked the feed bottle out of the window. It takes a woman, you know, to be really cruel to a little baby. You can see that's why I had to talk.'

'Absolutely.'

I knew it was no good trying to hurry him or force him to put events in order, and anyway, I was dog-tired and longing for something hot and fiery to be burning my gullet. I knew that I was going to have to deal with him but it wasn't the moment and I wasn't in the mood. His master brain had dreamed up some scheme but until I was dressed and in my right mind it would have to wait.

'My old man used to say,' he said, 'that a black child develops mentally faster than a white up to the age of twelve, and then it stops. They can't get beyond twelve. Something in it, I think, or that dark number must have thought I was an idiot. If he'd come down the road first I was going to take him. But I'm genuinely glad it was you.' He began to laugh. 'God, I'd like to see their faces now.'

Ahead of me, Mimi turned off the main road on to a B number.

Tony said, 'Make a lot of money in your job?'

'Enough.'

'Somebody asks you to do something, like, and you do it — no questions asked?'

'Sort of.'

'Must be interesting.'

'There's always something happening. Like now.'

That tickled him but he overlaughed it as usual.

Recovered, he said, 'I'd have liked working with someone like you instead of Otto. He was a randy, rotten runt. If you don't have nothing else in this life, my old man used to say, you've got to have respect for women. That's what he used to say, but he never acted like it. Some ways he was worse than Otto. Mimi's going to turn left up ahead. You'll have to get into low gear. Like the side of a house.'

I followed Mimi for a couple of miles up a steep, winding hill, and then we came out on to a wide plateau, fringed on three sides by woods. As Tony had said, there was an orchard, full of moss-covered fruit trees, a small paddock and a tall mill-house standing at the side of a stream. Attached to the mill-house was a low cottage with a paved yard in front of it.

I drew the Mercedes up behind Mimi's car in the yard. Ahead of us she got out, reached into the car and brought out a carry-cot, and then went into the house.

Tony said, 'If you don't try any tricks we'll get on well. Nothing's going to happen to you and your boss won't be able to blame you.' He grinned, winked at me, and added, 'Let's face it, we've all got to have our failures.'

He got out and, gun in hand, marshalled me into the cottage. The main room was large, stone-flagged, and with a kitchen range against one wall. Mimi sat on a chair, gave me a nod, and then opened her blouse and started to feed the baby.

'There's not much here, Tony,' she said. 'With all the upset. Get the fire going and warm some up. But you'll have to do something with him first. The baby food's in the case in the car.'

Tony went over to her, kissed the top of her head and kept his eyes on me all the time. Then he went to a door at the far side of the room, drew back bolts and opened it, motioning me to him.

'I think they wintered the goat or cows in here once. Kind of central heating for the house.' He chuckled. He waved me in.

The room was stone built with one window about six inches square high up at one end. There was a broken-down wheelbarrow in it, a pile of old straw in a corner, an iron bed without a mattress against the wall, and a row of cobweb-draped rabbit hutches along the other wall. He shut me in, but was back again after a few minutes carrying my clothes and a bottle. Behind him Mimi came to the door, baby crooked in her arm, its wet mouth searching for her nipple, Tony's gun in her hand to cover me.

Tony said, 'Make yourself comfortable. Ring if you want anything.' He laughed, dropped my clothes on the floor and put the bottle in the wheelbarrow.

I said, 'Is it a boy or a girl?'

'Boy,' said Tony proudly. 'Two months. Fair-sized little pecker on him already, Gabriel we're calling him. Like it?'

'Heavenly,' I said and reached with one hand for my trousers and with the other for the bottle.

They left me alone and I dressed and drank. Then I pulled some of the straw out of the corner and spread it across the wire-spring frame of the bed and flopped down on it. A cloud of dust, smelling of cowdung, rose around me, but I didn't care much.

I just lay there, bottle handy at the side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. I've stared at a great many ceilings in my time, and mostly in the same kind of mood, feeling debilitated and incapable of sustained thought. I knew enough about the mood to realize that there was nothing to be done but to wait for it to pass.

From the other room I heard the sounds of Mimi and Tony and the baby… the clanking of pans, the wail of the child, and Tony's big laugh and Mimi's occasional chuckle. After a time the baby stopped crying, and there was only the low murmur of their voices and then, suddenly, I heard Mimi give a loud exclamation and Tony began to roar with laughter.

I took another drink and went to sleep, but just before I went off I thought I heard the sound of a car starting up.

I woke late in the afternoon to find Tony in the room and with him a good smell of coffee and fried bacon. He'd put a plank across the wheelbarrow and there was a tray on it. He kicked an old box towards the barrow for me to sit on and then went and stood by the door, one hand inside his Windbreaker. I didn't have to be told what he was holding. He was friendly, but he wasn't going to take any chances with me.

He said, 'Keep your voice down. Don't want to wake the baby.'

I said, 'I'm not doing any speaking. That's up to you.'

I began to attack the coffee and fried bacon.

He gave it to me then, in his own laughter-punctuated, highly involuted way.

When he had come to visit me at the chalet, he had brought Mimi and the baby with him, leaving them parked in his car well down the road. He had brought Mimi, he explained, largely because they were inseparable and also because if there had been trouble it was easier to pass the frontier with a woman and a child in the car. Anyway, Panda and Najib had jumped him as he came back to the car. Najib had got into Tony's car, and Tony had to drive off with Panda bringing Mimi and the baby along in their car. Somewhere the other side of St Bonnet they had pulled up and the conference had begun. Najib had wanted to know what he had been doing at the chalet and who had been there.

'Honest, I tried to stall. Like I said, I got respect for you. He wanted to know everything — and he seemed already to know a lot — and then there was the baby. Mimi nearly went out of her head. Fact, I'm surprised she's got any milk left at all. That black tart was the worst, telling us what would happen. You can see, I didn't have any choice, and then on top of that he said he'd make it worth my while. Not that that by itself—'

'So in the end you told them about the Mercedes being in the lake?'

'Had to — and we had to take them there. Me with him, and Mimi coming behind with her. But I was thinking of you all the time. I wanted to give you a chance like, give you time to get there ahead. So I led him a dance, took the wrong roads and the long way round. You know once,' he chuckled, 'I took him round in a big circle and he never noticed it. You can see I tried to protect you, can't you?'

'I'm touched, Tony.'

'Well, I like you. You got a nice way. Still, I couldn't stall for ever, 'cause I knew Mimi would be fussing about the kid's feed, so I finally took him to the bottom of the lake road, and then he pays me off and tells me to get the hell out of it.' He chuckled. 'Which I pretended to do of course, but I didn't, and let me tell you if I could have got my hands on the gun Mimi had in the kid's carry-cot I would have blown their black heads off. Coloureds I always thought were crazy about kids. Anyway, I'd been doing a lot of thinking. Mimi and me wanted all the money we could for emigrating. Nice touch we had from that bank, and a bit more from the sale of the garage, but why not more? So I thought, what's in that car they're all crazy about? Not just the car — so I decided to hang around. First lot down the road will have it, whatever it is, and whatever it is it's worth money and I'm going to have it.

So there it is. It was you — and I was real happy it was you. With them I'd have had to be real rough in order to please Mimi.'

I finished the coffee and said, 'Don't go on, you're breaking my heart. Just tell me what cock-eyed plan you've got now.'

'Nothing that will hurt you. Your boss will see that you tried and you failed — on his behalf. He can't grumble.' He pulled the gun from his Windbreaker. 'After all, what could you do? I'll explain it to him when he comes.'

'When he comes?'

'To collect the parcel. Mimi's gone off for him now. Be back tomorrow. Why you looking surprised?'

'Wouldn't you — if you saw a man jump into a bear-pit for a friendly game of tag? My boss will tear you apart. Tony, my friend, he's not the kind of man you can shake down. As your dear old father would have said, you're good but you're not in his class.'

Tony grinned. 'You're trying to frighten me. I can handle him. He's got to come alone. Mimi knows the terms.'

'Listen,' I said. 'He's eight feet tall, four feet wide, and he's got a fat touch of the Irish. He'll eat you.'

'Will he? Then he'll have to polish this off as a starter first.' He joggled the gun. Then he gave me a kindly shake of his head. 'Don't you worry. You did your best. More can't be asked of any man. You'll get your pay from him. You could sue him if not. And Mimi and I will get our price for the parcel. You know what's in it?'

'No.'

'And a good thing for you, too.' He started to laugh. 'You ain't old enough yet. You should have seen Mimi's face. She's a first-class mother and wife, but that's not to say she hasn't been around — but she was shocked. She didn't even want to take the little bit of film I clipped off to show him, but I said she must. He's got to know we're genuine sellers. Anyway, it's all wrapped up again out there, just as it was, and you don't have to bother your head about it. And he's getting it cheap, five thousand dollars, used notes, and no fear of the police about it or he wouldn't have hired you.'

I gave him a look and went back to the bed. I picked up the bottle and took a deep pull, swallowed, breathed hard and said, 'Wake me when he comes. I wouldn't miss the show for anything.'

'I will. You'll be right out there so he can see it weren't any of your fault. As my old man used to say, you take advantage of someone, particularly someone you like, then the least you can do is make sure they don't get more than their proper share of the blame. You just got outsmarted. I want him to know that. Then he can't hold anything against you.'

I didn't tell him that I was deeply moved — not for me, but for him. He and Mimi were a couple of Babes in the Wood, and O'Dowda would enjoy every minute he spent in this house.

I said, 'Did Otto ever tell you why he quit working for O'Dowda?'

'Sure. He'd accumulated some capital and wanted to get back to his own line of business.'

'How did he get the capital?'

Tony laughed and winked. 'Never asked him. Like my father used to say — never ask questions you know won't be answered.'

He went out, chuckling to himself.

I lay on the bed, later, and stared at the little patch of window. Through it a few stars were showing and now and again a brown owl screamed in the orchard just to keep the voles on their toes. It wasn't all that way from here to Evian. Mimi should be back sometime in the morning, and with her would be O'Dowda, alone. Mimi would insist on that, and O'Dowda would play ball. He would bluster and bully to begin with, threaten her with the police and so on, but in the end he would come, alone, and with the money because he wanted the parcel and he wanted it without any police interference. He probably knew already that the police, or Interpol, wanted to get their hands on it. Najib wanted it, Interpol wanted it, and O'Dowda wanted it. What did I want? Well, I had to be frank. I wanted it, too. But, in the first place, out of sheer curiosity to see what was in it. After I knew that, I could decide what to do with it. Ethically, of course, I should — if I ever got it — hand it to O'Dowda. He was my employer. But he'd only employed me to find the car, not to recover a parcel. And ethically, before allowing me to take his commission, there was a lot he should have put me wise to for the sake of my own personal safety, and personal safety was something by which I set a very high store. For the moment, ethics apart, I was prepared to be taken along by circumstances — in fact I had no choice — until I got a chance to dictate the running again.

I went to sleep, deep, complete, dreamless sleep, and woke to daylight and the fact that Tony was sitting hard and square on my shoulders, had my hands drawn back behind me, and was cording up my wrists. If I had been one of those people who come fast out of sleep, brain clear, ready for action, I might have been able to take advantage of him. The truth was he had me trussed almost before I was awake. He got off me, rolled me over, and I yawned in his face. Outside the birds were singing and a shaft of sunlight came through the window.

Tony, beaming, said, 'It's a great morning. Come on out and I'll feed you some coffee.'

He did, too, while I sat in a kitchen chair, and he did it expertly holding the cup to my lips. He should have been a male nurse.

'Thought you'd like to be present when your boss arrives. Tied like that he can see there was nothing you could do.'

I said, 'You're happy about meeting him?'

'Why not? He's coming alone, and I've got what he wants.' He tapped the parcel on the table with his gun. 'What's five thousand dollars to him?'

'You'd be surprised. He's got a gallery of people like you. Some there for less than five thousand, I imagine.'

'A gallery?'

'Never mind. He just doesn't like handing over money under duress.'

'Who does? But it happens. Just you sit there and don't move. I got things to do.'

He had. He warmed up some baby food, fed Gabriel, and then changed its nappy.

I said, 'You've skipped its bath.'

'Mimi said not to on account of its rash. All over its little arse. Powder's the job. Like I did before I put the fresh nappy on.'

He settled Gabriel down in the carry-cot and I watched him with interest. Seeing me following his movements, he said, 'Haven't got Mimi's touch. He goes down right away with her, but with me he always yells for five minutes before going off. Don't let it worry you.'

I didn't. Gabriel yelled and I sat on my chair and stared at the parcel I had fished out of the Mercedes. So far I'd done all the hard work and it didn't look as though I was going to get much out of it. I should have skipped this job and taken a holiday. I'd have missed Julia, true. But at this moment that didn't seem much to lose. I yawned. What I needed was a tonic, something to pep me up and set me going again so that there was a bounce in my stride and a bright cash glint in my eyes.

O'Dowda arrived three hours later. First there was the sound of Mimi's car. Tony went to the door and opened it. From where I sat I could see the yard. Mimi drew up alongside my car and came across to us, her red hair glinting in the morning sun, a spring in her step, and clearly everything all right with the world. As she reached the door where Tony stood, gun in hand to welcome her, O'Dowda's Rolls drew into the yard driven by him.

'He's alone?' asked Tony.

'Yes. I checked everything like you said.'

'Good girl.' He ran a hand down her back and pinched her bottom.

She came in, gave me a friendly nod, and went to the carrycot and began to fuss over the baby.

I said, 'What was he like?'

'Very polite and gentlemanly. No trouble.'

In my book that meant that he was saving the trouble for later.

O'Dowda came to the doorway, carrying a small case in one hand. He had a little billycock hat perched on top of his big head and was wearing a thick tweed suit which made him look even bigger. He gave Tony a fat smile and then seeing me inside, said, 'So you made a mess of it, boyo? Seems I read somewhere in your prospectus that nobody could outsmart you. Well, you're costing me five thousand dollars. You think I should deduct that from his fees?'

This was to Tony.

Tony, in a business mood, said, 'That's between you and him — but he did his best. Just turn round, Mr O'Dowda, and lift your hands.'

O'Dowda did as he was told and Tony ran a hand over him from behind. Then, satisfied, he backed into the room and O'Dowda came after him.

O'Dowda looked around and said, 'Nice little property this. Could pick it up cheap and do something with it.'

Tony moved around the table, picked up the parcel and handed it to Mimi, his eyes never leaving O'Dowda. Well, at least, that was something but he would need more than that to deal with O'Dowda. Nothing could convince me that O'Dowda was going to hand over five thousand dollars willingly and with that happy smile on his face.

Tony said, 'Your man did his best, Mr O'Dowda. Remember that.'

'Good of you to stress it. I'm sure he did. But it was a damned poor best — going to cost me five thousand dollars.'

He put the case on the table and then waved a fat hand at it. 'Just count it,' he said, 'and then your wife can hand over the parcel, and I'll be going.'

Tony said, 'No. You open it up. I don't want that lid snapping up and something going pop in my face.' He chuckled. 'My old man was an expert on booby traps, Mr O'Dowda.'

'You're right to be cautious, boyo. Let's be frank — if I could do you I would. But I know when to resign myself. I want that parcel too much to quibble over a few thousand dollars.'

He was too reasonable. I could sense that he wasn't worried, that underneath the mildness there was the real tough, don't-try-to-shake-me-down O'Dowda.

He opened the case, letting the cover flap back so that Tony could see the bundles of notes. I had a bet with myself that he would have a gun hidden under the notes. I was wrong. He picked up the case and turned it upside down, spilling the packets of notes on the table. From the far side Tony reached out a hand and picked up one of the piles. He handed it backwards to Mimi. She put the parcel in the carry-cot and began to count the notes. Then she came up to the table, and from a safe distance, counted through the piles.

'It's all there, Tony.'

'Give him the parcel. Don't go near him. Pass it to him.'

I had to hand it to Tony. He was taking no chances. He might not be a master mind, but he was doing his best. But there was one thing about O'Dowda he could never know, never believe, although I had in a way tried to tell him, and that was the man's courage. To be a millionaire you have to have it, you have to know that nothing can beat you, that anything you want is always in reach even if it means a moment or two of danger… for against danger there is always luck and, let's face it, luck is a snob and doesn't waste time on the poor and meek.

Mimi got the parcel and slid it across the table to O'Dowda. He picked it up and stuffed it into one of his big side pockets — and from that moment he didn't waste a second. The moment of pocketing the parcel was his deadline. As his right hand came out of the pocket he swept it forward, took the edge of the table and tipped it back at Tony, shoving it at him with all his strength.

As the table hit him Tony fired, but O'Dowda had already moved, and like a lot of big men, he moved fast. The bullet went high over him and hit the ceiling, showering plaster down. O'Dowda was round the table and, as Tony, on the floor, rolled over to shoot again, had one big arm around Mimi pulling her in front of him as a shield. Tony held his fire.

Panting a little, O'Dowda said, 'Now, you bastard, push that gun over here or I'll break your wife's neck.' He raised his free hand and grabbed the nape of Mimi's neck, screwing it round so that she gave a cry of pain.

Tony, lying on the floor, was lost. The game had gone against him and he had no idea of his next play.

'Tell him, Carver, that I'll do it,' said O'Dowda.

I said, 'He'll do it, Tony — and make it legal afterwards. Just kiss your five thousand goodbye. Do it, and don't be a fool.'

Tony looked from me to Mimi. Gabriel began to yell in the carry-cot. Tony slid the gun along the ground to O'Dowda. O'Dowda tipped Mimi over like a truss of hay and recovered the gun with bis free hand. Straightening up, he gave a big smile.

'Well, now we can really do business.' He forced Mimi across the room to the open door of the cattle lodge. He shoved her in and then closed the door and shot the bolt across. Tony made a move to rise but O'Dowda waved him down with the gun and came back slowly to him.

He said, 'I'm a bit stiff from that drive, but I'm beginning to loosen up. All right, after business, pleasure; that's the order. Up you get.'

He put the gun in his pocket and stood back from Tony. Tony must have thought he was mad to give him the chance. I could have told him better. He came up fast at O'Dowda but before he was off his knees O'Dowda drove his foot into his chest and sent him sprawling and the shock whipped Tony's glasses from his face. O'Dowda followed him up, grabbed him by the shirt front as he rose, jerked him to his feet and smashed a fat fist into his face, slamming him back against the wall.

It wasn't pretty to watch. Without glasses Tony was half blind anyway. O'Dowda just used him as a punch bag. He held him in the corner of the room and beat him until he couldn't stand on his legs, and then he held him up and beat him some more, and all the time Mimi was screaming like a banshee from the other room, the baby was crying as though he had a fit, and I felt a murderous rage running through me. Tony was not only getting what he had asked for, he was getting far more.

I shouted, 'Lay off, O'Dowda. You'll kill him.'

O'Dowda, holding Tony, turned and looked at me.

'Not me, Mr Bloody Carver. I know the exact limit.'

He turned and slammed another blow at Tony and then let him drop to the ground. Tony lay there, groaning faintly.

O'Dowda brushed off his hands, examined his knuckles and then, the baby still crying, he went to the carry-cot and gently patted its cheeks. 'Hush now, me darlin', your daddy will be with you soon, though I doubt you'll recognize him.'

He came over to me and pulled a penknife from his trouser pockets.

'Stand up and turn round.'

I sat where I was. Just at that moment I was enjoying myself. I wanted him. I wanted to take him more than anything else in the world, and the thought was doing things to my glands. Everything had gone into full production again inside me. The bastard had come in here, barehanded, and with just his mother-wit and the knowledge that he could get away with anything, and it had worked for him, as it had worked before. I just wanted to prove to him that for once it wouldn't always work.

'Stubborn, eh?' He smacked me across the face and the chair almost went over. 'And you think I believe his story about outsmarting you? It would take a better man than him to do that. No, it was a bright idea, boyo, right out of the old joke book. You two got together. He shakes me down — then you split, and you're still a hard-working but unsuccessful agent of mine entitled to full fees. You think I fall for that? Stand up, or I'll knock your bloody head off.'

He hit me again and I stood up because I still needed my head. I needed it badly. I knew what he was going to do. He was going to free me and then he was going to play the same game with me that he had played with Tony. And I had an idea that, while it might take him a little longer, he could do it. He was all warmed up and ready to go, looking forward to the fun.

I said, 'You've had enough exercise for one morning, O'Dowda.'

'Don't believe it. All he brought out in me was a light sweat. You got to do better. Think you can?'

'You want to bet?'

'Why not?'

'Five thousand — dollars?'

He laughed. 'You're on, you cocky bastard. Now turn round.'

Slowly I turned round so that he could get at my wrists, and I knew that from the moment he cut the cords I would have about four seconds in which to save myself. Four seconds. It doesn't sound much. In fact it's quite a long time, particularly against a man so full of self-confidence as O'Dowda was at that moment. In four seconds I had to finish him or he would finish me. I might be endangering my pay from him, plus five thousand dollars, but I was prepared to worry about that later.

He stood up against me at my back and sawed impatiently away at the cords and I kept the strain on them so that I would know the moment I was free. He was eager and impatient to be at me. I liked that. He was looking forward sadistically to his fun and an easy five-thousand purse, his mind full of it. That meant it didn't have room for too much caution. My only hope was to surprise and finish him in four seconds.

The cords went and I brought my arms round fast in front of me and, before he knew what I was doing, I had the back of the chair in front of me in my hands. I swung around, slamming the chair at him hard as I went. I got him full on the side of the head. He went over sideways and crashed against the floor. For once lady luck wasn't with him. Having seen him well and happily on his way, maybe she'd gone out for a drink. His head hit the stone-flagged floor with a crash and he just lay there, knocked out. I threw the broken chair from me and bent down by him. He was breathing. I took the parcel and the gun from him, and I didn't waste any time. He had a head like an ivory ball and he wouldn't be out long.

I let Mimi out, and said, 'Get out of here quickly, before he comes round. Come on.'

She didn't need urging. I helped her haul Tony to the car. Then I went back and collected the baby and my dollars. I put twenty per cent of the purse in the carry-cot with the baby, and dumped it in the car. Mimi drove off fast, sobbing to herself. I took O'Dowda's ignition key and then turned my car and sat, window down, watching the door of the house. A few minutes later he came staggering out, holding his head.

I called to him, 'Great fight. I've taken my winnings. When your head's better maybe we'll have a chat about things.'

I drove off and dropped his keys overboard a mile down the road.

I went north as fast as I could and by five o'clock I was at Talloires, which is a small place on the east side of Lake Annecy. I got a room at the Abbaye which overlooks the lake, and where I had stayed before. I put a call through to Wilkins and caught her just before she left the office. It was a long-winded conversation. She was fussing like an old hen because she hadn't been able to get me at Ansermoz's number.

She had no information, other than was public knowledge, about General Seyfu Gonwalla or Mrs Falia Makse; that is that he was head of his government and she was the wife of the Minister for Agriculture. She could find no information at all about any Miss Panda Bubakar. But our city contact had come across with the fact that O'Dowda's United Africa company set-up had been on the verge of obtaining monopolistic mineral rights and mining concessions from the previous government to Gonwalla's. However, a military coup d'état had brought Gonwalla in and negotiations for the concession had been broken off. I could see how annoying that must have been for a man like O'Dowda. That he would take such a setback lying down didn't strike me as likely. I had an idea that the oiled-paper parcel on my dressing table would prove it.

She had seen Guffy, but had not been able to get anything more out of him about anonymous letters concerning O'Dowda. He had said, however, that he wanted to get in touch with me and would she pass him any location or telephone number she had. I considered this, decided there could be no harm in it, and gave the Abbaye's number, Talloires 88.02. I then told her I had found the Mercedes and would be back very soon to face the bills which had no doubt accumulated.

She said, 'Are you all right, personally?'

'Intact,' I said, 'except for a three-inch scratch on my left arm which I've bandaged with a very dirty handkerchief. I was chased by Miss Panda Bubakar. She was wearing just a brassiere and pink tights. She's coloured, by the way.'

At the other end Wilkins cleared her throat but said nothing.

I said, 'Anything else to report?'

She said, 'A Miss Julia Yunge-Brown has telephoned three or four times wanting to know where you were. I decided it wouldn't be wise to say. Oh, yes, there is one other thing. There was an announcement in The Times yesterday of the forthcoming marriage of Cavan O'Dowda to a Mrs Mirabelle Heisenbacher.'

I said, 'Remind me to send flowers,' and then rang off.

After that I rang Durnford at the Château de la Forclaz. I gave him the location of the car to pass to O'Dowda when he got back. My job was now finished. I would be forwarding my bill in a few days.

He said, 'Did you go down to the car?'

I said, 'You any idea how cold those lake waters are, even in September?'

He said, 'If you did recover the package I'd like to talk to you about it, privately, and soon. After all, I did tell you where it was. And it could be, would be, to your advantage.'

I said, 'I'll think about it.'

He said, "Where are you?'

I said, 'I'll tell you if you promise not to hand it on to O'Dowda.' I knew I was dead safe on that one. 'I promise.'

I gave him the hotel address.

After that I had the hotel send up a bottle of whisky and a couple of bottles of Perrier water. I took the first drink into the bath with me and soaked for half an hour. Dressed, I fixed a second and undid the oiled-paper parcel. There was an inner wrapper of thick plastic sheeting, and inside this were two rolls of 16-mm film and a tape-recorder spool.

I took one of the films to the window and stripped off a couple of feet, holding the negatives up to the light. I wasn't really surprised. In this business you get to have a sixth sense, an instinct for anticipation that can sometimes take a great deal of pleasure out of life. The short strip of film I held up featured Panda Bubakar prominently, grinning all over her fun-loving face and stripped for action. The man in the background, a coloured gentleman, looked broad-shouldered enough to take the brunt of anything but, even so, there seemed to be a slight nervousness about his attitude which I could well understand. I didn't unroll any more film. Personally I've found that if you must have pornography — and a little occasionally never did any harm except to make life a shade greyer than it need be — then it was better after dinner with a couple of brandies. I had promised myself that I would eat at the Auberge du Pere Bise along the quay and I didn't want to spoil my gratin de queues d'ecrevisses.

I wrapped the whole lot up, and wondered what I would do about security arrangements. The next day I meant to hire a projector and run the film and also a tape recorder to play off the tape. But that was the next day. It would come all right. But I didn't want it to come without my being able to take a dispassionate eye-view of Panda and her friends and also to hear the tape which, I had a feeling, would be more interesting because it would leave a great deal more to the imagination than the film would. So I took the whole lot, including my dollars in a separate packet, to the Auberge du Pere Bise with me and asked if they would keep them in their safe for me overnight, which they said they would, without any demur, which is always the sign of a first-class, well-run establishment. My hotel would have done the same but I knew that that was one of the obvious first checks that any official busybody would make since I was staying there. The écrevisses were delicious. So was the omble chevalier poche beurre blanc which followed them — and although ombles are part of the great Salmonidae family, I didn't think of O'Dowda once.

The next morning I was glad that I had taken my simple security precautions. Around eight o'clock there was a knock on the door and the chambermaid came in with my breakfast coffee, hot rolls and croissants and two of those small pots of conserve, one apricot, the other raspberry, and a big dish of butter curls. Behind her came Aristide Marchissy la Dole. He looked as though he had gone without sleep for a week and hadn't had his brown suit pressed for a month. He had a little blue cornflower in his buttonhole and a shaving nick on his chin with a little fuzz of cotton wool stuck to it like penicillin mould. He gave me a slow, dubious smile and lit a cigarette while he waited for the maid to go out.

I sat up in bed and said, 'There's one important thing I want to make clear. I'm hungry. So lay off my croissants.'

The door closed on the maid. Aristide came over, took a hot roll and buttered it, flicked the silver foil off the raspberry conserve, put a spoonful inside the roll, removed the cigarette from his mouth and wolfed the lot.

'I said lay off.'

He said, 'You specified croissants, which by the way, were first made in Budapest in 1686. That was the year the Turks besieged the city. They dug underground passages under the walls at night, but the bakers — naturally working at that hour — heard them, gave the alarm and Johnny Turk was thrown out. In return the bakers were given the privilege of making a special pastry in the form of the crescent moon which, I believe, still decorates the Ottoman flag. Fascinating, no?'

'Someday,' I said, 'I must buy myself a copy of Larousse Gastronomique.'

But I was fascinated. Not by what he had said, but by what he was doing as he spoke. I've turned plenty of rooms over in my time, and seen experts turn rooms over, but I'd never seen an expert like Aristide turn a room over. He did it without any fuss, restricting himself to the probable size of the article he was looking for. He was neat and he was fast and afterwards there wasn't going to be a sign that anything had been disturbed. He found the gun I had taken from O'Dowda and pocketed it without comment.

He disappeared into the bathroom and then came back and said, 'All right. Now the bed.'

Reluctantly, I got out. He searched pillows, sheets, mattresses and the frame then replaced the stuff tidily and waved me to take up residence again, which I did. He buttered and jammed himself another roll.

I said, 'Of course, you've checked the hotel safe and my car?'

'Naturally. And of course, I know you've got it — somewhere. Let us just regard you for now as the custodian. If you lose it, of course, you could be in trouble.'

The roll finished, he came back to the tray, tipped the wrapped sugar lumps from the bowl, and said, 'Do you mind if I share your coffee? I've been driving since four o'clock this morning.'

'Ever since Guffy passed you my telephone number?'

'Yes. Your Miss Wilkins, of course. She had no option.'

'She didn't have to. She had my permission. That's why I've been expecting you — though not so soon. Perhaps now you will tell me on what score you are gunning for O'Dowda?'

He smiled. 'I understand you've finished your work for him.'

'I found the car, yes — and passed O'Dowda the location.'

'O'Dowda, I gather, isn't very pleased with you.'

'News travels fast in these parts. You must have a line to Durnford.'

'Yes. He's had communication with us before — first anonymously — subsequently openly. He's not always been strictly honest about his objective. Isn't now, quite. But he's been helpful.'

He raised the sugar bowl and made a horrible sucking noise at the coffee.

I said, 'Was Durnford the only one who sent you anonymous letters?'

'So far as I know. One came to me at Interpol. Guffy had two others at Scotland Yard.'

'And naturally, even though there might not be any truth in them, the police couldn't altogether ignore them?'

He nodded, squatted on the edge of a chair, and said, 'Guffy passed his to us. The subject concerned was, in a sense, an international figure. More particularly for us, a European figure.'

'With a prototype in fiction?' Remembering Julia and the way she had behaved about Otto, I didn't think it was a shot in the dark.

'If it was fiction. There was the Chevalier Raoul de Perrault's Contes du Temps.''

'Or Giles de Retz, the Marquis of Laval. Holinshed, I believe. My sister used to scare me with the story at bedtime. For such a nice, gentle, green-fingered person she has a macabre taste in bedtime fairy stories.'

'All fairy stories, the best, are macabre.'

'Is this a fairy story, or fact?'

'It remains to be seen.' He stood up and looked out of the window, at the terrace below with its cropped trees and the lake beyond. 'You have an expensive taste in hotels. De la terrasse ombragée belle vue sur le lac.'

'Poetry?'

'No, Michelin. It goes for any hotel near water. Repas sous Vombrage, face au lac.'

'You want to change the subject?'

'Not particularly.'

I said, getting out of bed and beginning to hunt for my cigarettes, 'I can understand Guffy, with murder in mind, telling me to keep an eye open if I were working for O'Dowda, but what I don't understand — from an Interpol point of view is the interest in what may or may not have been in a submerged Mercedes?'

'No?'

'No.' I lit a cigarette, climbed back into bed and poured myself what was left of the coffee.

Aristide came back from the window. 'You have finished with the croissants?'

'Yes.'

He helped himself to one of the remaining pastries. He masticated slowly, smiling at me. Then he said, 'There are many differences between Interpol and the semi-honest little business you run.'

'Naturally. I don't get a pension at the end. That's why it's semi-honest. I have to work a handsome rake-off now and then.'

'Resist the temptation this time. Interpol is a police organization. The International Criminal Police Organization. Inevitably, it deals with more than crimes. Any international organization must occasionally accept some political influence from its members. The little parcel which — I concede you this — you have so cleverly found and so cleverly hidden, is a political matter.'

'And who are the interested parties exerting this influence?'

He cocked a sleepy eye at me and then rolled a grey lid down in a tired wink.

'That would be telling.'

'You can do better than that.'

'Not much — except that the interested governments prefer that neither Gonwalla nor O'Dowda should recover it. The interested governments could make good use of it — if they were ever forced to.'

'I'm sure. Though they would never call it blackmail.'

'In respectable hands, for respectable purposes, blackmail is a respectable weapon.'

'Put it to music and you've got a hit.'

I got out of bed.

He said, 'Where do you go from here?' I said, 'To have a bath and a shave.' I stripped off my pyjama jacket.

He looked at my arm and said, 'You have been wounded.'

'You know what women are when they get excited.'

He said, 'You could finish up with more than a scratch. There could be a murder charge against you.'

I said, 'Even you can't say that with conviction. By the way, assuming I had the parcel, what sort of price would Interpol offer?'

'They wouldn't. Not cash.'

'They would. Tell them to forget the free pardon for murder and name a price.'

He sighed. 'I'll pass on your request. Meanwhile, I have to inform you that the parcel must be handed to us within four days.'

'Or else what?'

He grinned. 'A special disciplinary sub-committee is considering that right now. You don't mind if I finish the rest of the croissants?'

'Help yourself.'

I went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. When I came back to dress he was gone.

But that didn't mean I was going to be left unattended. The parcel had political significance. Interpol was a crime organization but — much as Aristide might hate any political pressure, which I was sure he did because he was a professional crime man — if a directive had been given then no employee could do anything else but obey it. That's where the real difference lay between Interpol and my semi-honest little business. I didn't have to obey anyone. I was my own boss. I just did what I thought was best — most for me.

I picked up the phone and put a call through to the Château de la Forclaz. If Durnford answered I was going to put a sugar lump in my mouth and do a little spluttering to disguise my voice. From now on, so far as I was concerned, Durnford had too many irons in the fire to be trusted. The call was answered by a girl on the château switchboard, and I asked for Miss Julia Yunge-Brown.

When she came on I said, 'This is Carver here. If you want to help me, pack a bag, get in your car and ring Talloires 88.02 from an outside phone as soon as possible. If you don't call me within the hour I shall enter a monastery. Probably La Grande Chartreuse — it's not far away. Incidentally, I had a brief meeting with Otto Libsch.'

I put the receiver down before she could say anything. Forty minutes later she rang back.