The Spoilers

I

‘This is the life,’ said Michael Abbot. He sipped from a tall frosted glass and watched with more than idle interest as a nubile girl clad in the briefest of brief bikinis stepped on to the diving-board. She flexed her knees, stood poised for a moment, and then cleft the air in a perfect swallow dive to plunge with minimum splash into the Mediterranean.

Dan Parker was unimpressed. ‘We’re wastin’ time.’

‘It can’t be hurried,’ said Abbot. He had talked this over with Parker before, and Dan had reluctantly agreed that this was the best way. There were two possible approaches that could be made; the approach direct, which was to introduce themselves to the Delorme woman as potential allies. The trouble with that was that if it failed then it was a complete failure with nothing to fall back upon. The approach indirect was to somehow make Delorme come to them. If it did not work within a reasonable period of time then the direct approach was indicated.

Abbot leaned forward to watch the girl who was now climbing out of the water. ‘We’ll get there in time.’

‘So we sit around in this fancy hotel while you get pissed on those fancy drinks. Is that it?’ Parker was feeling edgy. He was out of place in the Hotel Saint-Georges and he knew it.

‘Take it easy, Dan,’ said Abbot calmly. ‘It’s early days. If we can’t approach her then we have to find out who her friends are — and that’s what we’re doing now.’

Jeanette Delorme moved in the highest Lebanese society; she lived in a de luxe villa in the mountains at Hammana, and she could afford to eat two days running at the Hotel Saint-Georges. Getting close to her was the problem. Somehow they had to snuggle up to her and that, thought Abbot, was like snuggling up to a rattlesnake. He had read the dossier on her.

The only approach, as he saw it, was to find out who her associates were — her more disreputable associates — and then to lay out some ground bait. It was going to be very slow — much too slow for the liking of Dan Parker — but it was the only way. And so they were sitting in a discreet corner of the Hotel Saint-Georges while Delorme lunched with an unknown friend who would be checked on as soon as they parted. The previous day had been a repetition — and a bust. Her companion then had proved to be a paunchy Lebanese banker of pristine reputation and decidedly not disreputable enough for their purpose.

Abbot watched the girl step on to the diving-board again. He said suddenly, ‘Do you know why this hotel is called the Saint-Georges, Dan?’

‘No,’ said Parker briefly in a tone which indicated that he could not care less.

Abbot waved his glass largely. ‘Saint George killed the dragon right here in Beirut. So they tell me. Probably here in Saint George’s Bay. But I’ve always thought the Christians pinched that bit from Greek mythology — Perseus and Andromeda, you know.’ He gestured towards the girl on the diving-board. ‘I wouldn’t mind slaying a dragon myself if she were the prize.’

Parker moved restlessly in his chair, and Abbot thought he would have to do something about him. Dan would be all right once he had something to do with his hands, but this alien environment tended to unnerve him. He said, ‘What’s on your mind, Dan?’

‘I still think this is a waste o’ time.’ Parker took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. ‘I wish I could have a beer. What wouldn’t I give for a pint?’

‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t have that,’ said Abbot, and looked about for a waiter. ‘Why didn’t you order one?’

‘What! In this place?’ Parker was surprised. He associated English beer with the Edwardian glass of a London pub or the low beams of a country inn. ‘I didn’t think they’d serve it in a place as posh as this.’

‘They make a living by serving what people want,’ said Abbot drily. ‘There’s a Yank behind us drinking his Budweiser, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t have your pint.’ He caught the eye of a waiter who responded immediately. ‘Have you any English beer?’

‘Certainly, sir, what would you like? Bass, Worthington, Watney’s...’

‘Watney’s’ll do fine,’ said Parker.

‘And I’ll have another of these.’ Abbot watched the waiter depart. ‘See, Dan, it’s easy.’

‘I’d never ‘a’ thought it,’ said Dan in wonder.

Abbot said, ‘If an English millionaire comes here and can’t get his favourite tipple he raises the roof, and that’s bad for business. We’ll probably have to pay a millionaire’s price, but it’s on the old expense account.’

Dan’s wonder increased even more when he was presented with a pewter tankard into which he promptly disappeared. He came up for air with froth on his upper lip. ‘It’s a bit o’ right stuff,’ he said. ‘Cold but in good condition.’

‘Maybe it’ll lighten your day,’ said Abbot. He glanced at the bar check, winced, and turned it over so Dan would not see it. That would certainly take the edge off his simple pleasure, even though Hellier was paying for it. He slid his eyes sideways at Parker and saw that the familiar taste of the beer had eased him. ‘Are you sure you’re right about this torpedo thing? I mean, it can be done.’

‘Oh, aye; I can do it. I can make those fish do tricks.’

‘We don’t want it to do tricks. We just want it to go a hell of a long way — five times further than it was designed to go.’

‘Don’t you worry yourself about that,’ said Dan comfortably. ‘I can do it. What I want to know is, can these people find a torpedo? They’re not the easiest thing to come by, you know.’

That had been worrying Abbot, too, although he had not admitted it. It was one thing for Warren to come up with the nutty idea of smuggling by torpedo and another thing to implement it. If Delorme could not lay her hands on a torpedo then the whole scheme was a bust. He said, ‘We’ll worry about that when we come to it.’

They indulged in idle conversation while Abbot surveyed the procession to the diving-board with the air of a caliph at the slave market. But he still kept an eye on the restaurant entrance, and after half an hour had passed, he said quietly, ‘Here she is. Drink up, Dan.’

Parker knocked back his second pint with the ease of long practice. ‘Same as yesterday, then?’

‘That’s right. We follow the man — we know where we can pick her up.’ Abbot paid the check while Parker sauntered out in the wake of Jeanette Delorme and her companion. He caught up just as Parker was unlocking the car.

‘Fourth car along,’ said Parker. ‘It should be a doddle. But I hope this isn’t another bloody banker.’

‘I’ll drive,’ said Abbot, and slid behind the wheel. He watched the big Mercedes pull away, then engaged gear and drifted into the traffic stream three cars behind. ‘I don’t think this one’s a banker. He has no paunch, for one thing; and he certainly doesn’t look Lebanese.’

‘I noticed you watchin’ all those naked popsies paradin’ up an’ down in front of the hotel,’ said Parker. ‘But what do you think of that one ahead of us?’

‘Our Jeanette?’ Abbot concentrated on piloting the car out of the Rue Minet El Hosn. ‘I’ve never thought of her in that way,’ he said satirically. ‘Come to think of it, she’s not bad-looking but I’ve never had the chance of giving her a real slow and loving once-over. It’s a bit hard to assess a woman when you’re not supposed to be looking at her.’

‘Come off it,’ scoffed Parker.

‘Oh, all right. She’s a bit long in the tooth for me.’ Abbot was twenty-six. ‘But trim — very trim — very beddable.’ He grimaced. ‘But I think it would be like getting into bed with a spider.’

‘What the hell are you talkin’ about?’

‘Didn’t you know — female spiders eat their mates after they’ve had their bit of fun.’ He turned into the Avenue Bliss, following the Mercedes at a discreet distance. As they passed the American University he said, ‘I wonder why they’re going this way; there’s nothing at the end of here but the sea.’

‘We’ll see soon enough,’ said Parker stolidly.

The Avenue Bliss gave way to the Rue Manarah and still the Mercedes carried on. As they rounded a bend the sea came into view, and Parker said warningly, ‘Watch it! He’s pullin’ in.’

Abbot went by and rigidly prevented himself from looking sideways. He turned the corner and parked on the Corniche. ‘That was a hotel,’ he said, and pondered. He made up his mind. ‘I’m going in there. As soon as that Mercedes takes off you follow it if the man is in it. Don’t wait for me.’

‘All right,’ said Parker.

‘And, Dan; be unobtrusive.’

‘That goes for you too,’ said Parker. He watched Abbot turn the corner into the Rue Manarah and then swung the car round to where he could get a view of the hotel entrance and still be in a position to follow the Mercedes which was still parked outside. Presently Delorme and the man came out together with a page who packed a lot of luggage in the boot.

The Mercedes took off smoothly and he followed, and soon found himself going along a familiar road — past the Lebanese University and Khaldeh Airport on the way to Hammana. He was almost tempted to turn back but he went on all the way until he saw Jeanette Delorme safely home with her guest. Then he drove back to Beirut, running into heavy traffic on the way back to the hotel.

Abbot was taking it easy when Parker walked in. ‘Where the devil have you been, Dan?’

‘The traffic’s bloody awful at this time o’ day,’ said Parker irascibly. ‘She took him home an’ you know what the road out o’ town is like. She took him home — bags an’ all. Stayin’ with her as a house guest, like.’ He grinned. ‘If he disappears then you’ll know she really is a bloody spider. Did you get anythin’?’

‘I did,’ said Abbot. ‘By exerting my famous charm on a popsy in that hotel I found that he is an American, his name is John Eastman, and he flew in from Tehran yesterday. Did you hear that, Dan? Tehran. It’s the first link.’

II

It may have been the first link but it wasn’t the last because Eastman proved to be almost as inaccessible as Delorme herself. ‘A snooty lot, these heroin smugglers,’ observed Abbot. ‘They don’t mix with the common herd.’

So they applied the same technique to Eastman. It was a painfully slow task to keep him under observation and then to tag his associates and they would have given up had they not known with certainty that they were on the right track. For Abbot received a letter from Hellier who was acting as a clearing house for information.

‘Good news and bad,’ said Abbot after he had read it.

‘Let’s have the bad news first,’ said Parker. ‘I might need to be cheered up after hearin’ it.’

‘Warren has lost Speering. He disappeared into the blue in the middle of Kurdistan. It’s up to us now, Dan. I bet Nick’s climbing the wall,’ he said reflectively.

‘We’re not much forrarder,’ said Parker gloomily.

‘Oh, but we are. That’s the good news. Eastman saw Speering the day before he gave Nick the slip. That directly links Speering with Delorme. This is the first bit of concrete evidence we’ve had yet. Everything else was just one of Nick Warren’s hunches.’

Parker brightened. ‘Aye, that’s so. Well, let’s get on wi’ it.’

So they got on with it, but it was a long time before Abbot made the decision. ‘This is the man,’ he said. ‘This is where we cast our bread upon the waters and hope it’ll come back buttered on both sides.’

‘Picot?’

Picot was a long way down the line. He knew a man who knew a man who knew Eastman. He was accessible and, Abbot hoped, receptive to new ideas if they were cast his way. He was also, to a keen and observant eye, a crook, which further raised Abbot’s hopes.

‘How do we tackle him?’ asked Parker.

‘The first thing is to move into a cheaper hotel.’ He looked at Parker consideringly. ‘We’re not rolling in cash — but we’re not dead broke. We’re hungry for loot, but careful. We have something to sell and we want the best price, so we’re cagey. Got the picture?’

Parker smiled sombrely. ‘That bit about not rollin’ in cash’ll come easy to me; I’ve never had much money. How do we broach the subject to Picot?’

‘We play it by ear,’ said Abbot easily.

Picot frequented a cafe in the old town near the Port, and when Abbot and Parker strolled in the next evening he was sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Abbot selected a table just in front and to the side of him, and they sat down. Abbot wrinkled his nose as he looked at the food-spotted menu and ordered for both of them.

Parker looked about the place and said in a low voice, ‘What now?’

‘Take it easy,’ said Abbot softly. ‘Let it come naturally.’ He turned and looked at the little pile of newspapers and magazines on Picot’s table, obviously there for the use of the customers. In English, he said, ‘Excuse me, monsieur; do you mind?’

Picot looked up and nodded shortly. ‘Okay with me.’ His English was incongruously tinged with a mixed French and American accent.

Abbot took a magazine and flipped the pages idly until the waiter served them, putting down many plates, two drinks and a jug of water. Abbot poured a little water into his glass and there was a swirl of milkiness. ‘Cheers, Dan.’

Hesitantly Parker did the same, drank and spluttered. He banged down the glass. ‘What is this stuff? Cough mixture?’

‘The local white lightning — arak.’

Parker investigated his palate with his tongue. ‘I haven’t tasted anything like this since I were a boy.’ He looked surprised as he made the discovery. ‘Aniseed balls!’ He sniffed the glass. ‘It’s no drink for a grown man. Any chance of a Watney’s in here?’

Abbot grinned. ‘I doubt it. If you want beer you have a choice of Lebanese French and Lebanese German.’

‘Make it the German,’ said Parker, so Abbot ordered him a Henninger Byblos and turned back to find him regarding the contents of the plates with deep suspicion.

‘For God’s sake, stop acting like a tourist, Dan,’ he said with irritation. ‘What do you expect here — fish and chips?’

‘I like to know what I’m eatin’,’ said Parker, unmoved.

‘It’s mezza, said Abbot loudly. ‘It’s filling and it’s cheap. If you want anything better go to the Saint-Georges — but I’m not paying. I’m getting fed up with you. I have a good mind to call the whole thing off.’

Parker looked startled but subsided as Abbot winked. The beer arrived and Parker tasted it and put down the glass. ‘It’ll do, I suppose.’

Abbot said quietly, ‘Do you think you could... er... get pissed?’

Parker flicked the glass with his fingernail. ‘It ‘ud take more than this stuff. It’s like maiden’s water.’

‘But you could try, couldn’t you? You might even become indiscreet.’

‘Then buy me another,’ said Parker, and drained the glass with one mighty swallow.

Abbot made a good meal but Parker picked at his food fastidiously and drank more than was apparently good for him. His voice became louder and his words tended to slur together, and he seemed to be working up to a grievance. ‘You want to call it off — how do you suppose I feel? I get this idea — a bloody good idea — an’ what are you doin’ about it? Nothin’ but sittin’ on your upper-class bottom, that’s what.’

‘Quiet, Dan!’ urged Abbot.

‘I won’t be bloody quiet! I’m gettin’ tired o’ your snipin’, too.’ His voice took on an ugly mimicry. ‘“Don’t do this, Dan; don’t do that, Dan; don’t eat wi’ your mouth open, Dan.’ Who the hell do you think you are?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said Abbot.

‘You said you could help me wi’ what I’ve got — an’ what ha’ you done? Sweet Fanny Adams!’

‘It takes time to make the contact,’ said Abbot wearily.

‘You said you had the contacts,’ said Parker venomously.

‘What have you got to complain about,’ said Abbot in a high voice. ‘You’re not paying for all this, are you? If it wasn’t for me you’d still be on your arse in London fiddling around with beat-up cars and dreaming of how to make a quick fortune. I’ve laid out nearly a thousand quid on this, Dan — doesn’t that count for anything?’

‘I don’t care whose money it is. You’re still doin’ nothin’ an’ you’re wastin’ my time.’ Parker gestured largely towards the open door. ‘That harbour’s full o’ ships, an’ I bet half of ‘em are in the smugglin’ racket. They’d go for what I have in me noggin an’ they’d pay big for it, too. You talk about me sittin’ on me arse; why don’t you get up off yours?’

Abbot was trying — unsuccessfully — to quiet Parker. ‘For God’s sake, shut up! Do you want to give everything away? How do you know this place isn’t full of police?’

Parker struggled to his feet drunkenly. ‘Aw, hell!’ He looked around blearily. ‘Where is it?’

Abbot looked at him resignedly. ‘Through there.’ He indicated a door at the back of the cafe. ‘And don’t get talking to any strange men.’ He watched Parker stagger away, shrugged, and picked up the magazine.

A voice behind him said, ‘Monsieur?’

He turned and found Picot looking at him intently. ‘Yes?’

‘Would I be right if I said that you and your friend are looking for... employment?’

‘No,’ said Abbot shortly, and turned away. He hesitated perceptibly and turned back to face Picot. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘I thought maybe you were out of work. Sailors, perhaps?’

‘Do I look like a sailor?’ demanded Abbot.

Picot smiled. ‘No, monsieur. But your friend...’

‘My friend’s business is his.’

‘And not yours, monsieur?’ Picot raised his eyebrows. ‘Then you are definitely not interested in employment?’

‘What kind of employment?’

‘Any man, particularly a sailor who has... ingenious ideas... there is always an opening for him in the right place.’

‘I’m not a sailor. My friend was at one time. There’d have to be a place for me. We’re great friends — inseparables, you know.’

Picot examined his finger-nails and smiled. ‘I understand, monsieur. A great deal would depend on the ideas your friend has in mind. If you could enlighten me then it could be worth your while.’

‘If I told you then you’d know as much as me, wouldn’t you?’ said Abbot cunningly. ‘Nothing doing. Besides, I don’t know who you are. I don’t go a bundle on dealing with total strangers.’

‘My name is Jules Fabre,’ said Picot with a straight face.

Abbot shook his head. ‘Means nothing to me. You could be a big-timer for all I know — and then again, you could be a cheap crook.’

‘That’s not very nice, monsieur,’ said Picot reproachfully.

‘I didn’t intend it to be,’ said Abbot.

‘You are making things difficult,’ said Picot. ‘You can hardly expect me to buy something unknown. That is not good business. You would have to tell me sooner or later.’

‘I’m not too worried about that. What Dan — my friend — has can only be made to work by him. He’s the expert.’

‘And you?’

Abbot grinned cheekily. ‘You can say I’m his manager. Besides, I’ve put up the money so far.’ He looked Picot up and down insultingly. ‘And talking about money — what we’ve got would cost a hell of a lot, and I don’t think a cheap chiseller like you has it, so stop wasting my time.’ He turned away.

‘Wait,’ said Picot. ‘This secret you have — how much do you expect to sell it for?’

Abbot swung around and stared at Picot. ‘Half a million American dollars. Have you got that much?’ he asked ironically.

Picot’s lips twitched and he lowered his voice. ‘And this is for smuggling?’

‘What the hell do you think we’ve been talking about all this time?’ demanded Abbot.

Picot became animated. ‘You want to get in touch with someone at the top? I can help you, monsieur; but it will cost money.’ He rubbed his finger and thumb together meaningfully and shrugged. ‘My expenses, monsieur.’

Abbot hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No. What we have is so good that the man at the top will pay you for finding us. Why should I grease your palm?’

‘Because if you don’t, the man at the top will never hear of you. I’m just trying to make a living, monsieur.’

Parker came back and sat down heavily. He picked up an empty bottle and banged it down. ‘I want another beer.’

Abbot half-turned in his seat. ‘Well, buy one,’ he said irritably.

‘Got no money,’ said Parker. ‘Besides,’ he added belligerently, ‘you’re Mr Moneybags around here.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Abbot took out his wallet, peeled off a note from the thin wad, and threw it on the table. ‘Buy yourself a bucketful and swill in it. You can drown in the stuff for all I care.’ He turned to Picot. ‘All right — how much, you bloody twister?’

‘A thousand pounds — Lebanese.’

‘Half now and the other half when contact has been made.’ He counted out notes and dropped them in front of Picot. ‘All right?’

Picot put out his hand and delicately took the money. ‘It will do, monsieur. What is your name and where can I find you?’

‘My name doesn’t matter and I’ll be in here most evenings,’ said Abbot. ‘That’s good enough.’

Picot nodded. ‘You had better not be wasting time,’ he warned. ‘The man at the top has no use for fools.’

‘He’ll be happy with what we have,’ said Abbot confidently.

‘I hope so.’ Picot looked at Parker who had bis nose deep in a glass. ‘Your friend drinks too much — and talks too loudly. That is not good.’

‘He’s all right. He’s just become edgy because of the waiting, that’s all. Anyway, I can control him.’

‘I understand your position — exactly,’ said Picot drily. He stood up. ‘I will be seeing you soon.’

Abbot watched him leave, then said, ‘You were great, Dan. The stage lost a great actor somewhere along the line.’

Parker put down his glass and looked at it without enthusiasm. ‘I was pretty good at amateur theatricals at one time,’ he said complacently. ‘You paid him something. How much?’

‘He gets a thousand pounds; I paid half.’ Abbot laughed. ‘Keep your hair on, Dan; they’re Lebanese pounds — worth about half-a-crown each.’

Parker grunted and swirled the beer in his glass. ‘It’s still too much. This stuff is full of piss and wind. Let’s go somewhere we can get a real drink, and you can tell me all about it.’

III

Nothing happened next day. They went to the café at the same time in the evening but Picot was not there, so they had a meal, chatted desultorily and went away. Despite his confident attitude Abbot was wondering whether Picot was genuine or whether he had paid over £60 to a smooth grafter he would never see again.

They were just about to leave for the café the next evening when there was a knock at the door. Abbot raised his eyebrows at Parker and went to open it. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Fabre.’

He opened up. ‘How did you know we were here?’

‘That does not matter, Monsieur Abbot. You wish to speak to someone — he is here.’ He jerked his eyes sideways. ‘That will be five hundred pounds.’

Abbot glanced to where a tall man stood in the shadowed corridor. ‘Don’t try to con me, Fabre. How do I know it’s the man I want? It could be one of your put-up jobs. I’ll talk to him first, then you’ll get your money.’

‘All right,’ said Picot. ‘I’ll be in the usual place tomorrow.’

He walked away down the corridor and Abbot waited at the door. The tall man moved forward and, as his face came out of shadow, Abbot knew he had hit the jackpot. It was Eastman. He stepped on one side to let him enter, and Eastman said in a flat mid-western accent, ‘Was Picot trying to shake you down?’

Abbot closed the door. ‘Who?’ he said blankly. ‘He said his name was Fabre.’

‘His name is Picot and he’s a chiselling nogoodnik,’ said Eastman without rancour.

‘Talking about names,’ said Abbot. ‘This is Dan Parker and I’m Mike Abbot. And you are...?’ He let the question hang in the air.

‘The name is Eastman.’

Abbot smiled. ‘Sit down, Mr Eastman. Dan, pull up a chair and join the congregation.’

Eastman sat down rigidly on the chair offered. ‘I’m told you have something to sell me. Start selling.’

‘I’ll start off, Dan,’ said Abbot. ‘You can chip in when things become technical.’ He looked at Eastman. ‘I’m told there’s a fair amount of smuggling goes on around here. Dan and I have got an idea — a good idea. The trouble is we don’t have the capital to pull it off ourselves, so we’re open to offers — on a participation basis, of course.’

‘You don’t get offered a cent until I know what you’re talking about.’

‘This is where the conversation gets tricky,’ said Abbot. ‘However, Dan tells me it doesn’t matter very much if you know the secret. He thinks he’s the only one around who can make it work. Of course, it wouldn’t work with too much weight or bulk. What are you interested in smuggling?’

Eastman hesitated. ‘Let’s say gold.’

‘Let’s say gold,’ agreed Abbot. ‘Dan, how much could you carry — in weight?’

‘Up to five hundred pounds.’

‘Interested?’ asked Abbot.

‘Maybe. What’s the gimmick?’

‘This works when coming in from the sea. You shoot it in by torpedo.’ Abbot looked at Eastman as though expecting a round of applause.

Eastman sighed and put his hands on the table as though to. lever himself up. ‘You’re wasting my time,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Abbot. ‘Why are we wasting your time?’

Eastman stared at him and shook his head sadly. ‘It’s been tried before and it doesn’t work very well. You’re out of luck, boys.’

‘Perhaps you were using the wrong torpedoes.’

‘Perhaps.’ Eastman looked at Abbot with renewed interest. ‘What have you got?’

‘You tell me what you want, then maybe we can get together.’

Eastman smiled thinly. ‘Okay, I’ll play ball; I’ve got ten minutes spare. A torpedo has only worked well once. That was on the Austrian-Italian border; a few smart-alick amateurs got hold of a torpedo and started smuggling across one of the little lakes up there. Booze one way and tobacco the other. They had the customs cops going nuts trying to figure out how it worked. Then some jerk shot off at the mouth and that was the end of it.’

‘So?’ said Abbot. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

‘Oh, it worked — but only across a half-assed pond. A torpedo doesn’t have the range for what I want.’

‘Can you get hold of a torpedo?’

‘Sure — but for what? Those we can get hold of don’t have the range, and those we could use are on the secret lists. Boy, if I could get hold of one of the modern underwater guided missile babies I’d be made.’

Parker broke in. ‘What kind of torpedo can you get?’

Eastman shrugged. ‘Those on the international arms market — models of the ‘forties and ‘fifties. Nothing really up to date.’

‘What about the British Mark XI?’

‘Those are available, sure. With a maximum range of three miles — and what the hell’s the good of that?’

‘Fifty-five hundred yards wi’ batteries brought up to heat,’ corrected Parker.

Abbot grinned. ‘I think you’d better tell him, Dan.’

Parker said deliberately, ‘I can get fifteen miles out o’ a Mark XI.’

Eastman sat up straight. ‘Are you on the level?’

‘He is,’ said Abbot. ‘Danny boy can make a Mark XI sit up and do tricks. Meet Mr Parker, the best petty officer and torpedo mechanic the Royal Navy ever had.’

‘You interest me,’ said Eastman. ‘Are you sure about that fifteen miles?’

Parker smiled slowly. ‘I can pep up a Mark XI so you can stay safely outside the legal twelve mile limit an’ shoot her ashore at thirty knots. No bubbles, either.’

‘And carrying five hundred pounds’ weight?’

‘That’s right.’

Eastman pondered. ‘What about accuracy?’

‘That depends on the fish you give me — some o’ the guidance gear is a bit rough sometimes. But I can doctor it up if you let me have sea trials.’ Parker scratched bis jaw. ‘I reckon I could give an accuracy o’ three inches in a hundred yards — that’s less than seventy yards out either way at fifteen miles.’

‘Jesus!’ said Eastman. ‘That’s not too bad.’

‘You should be able to find a quiet beach that big,’ said Abbot. ‘You’ll have to find one that slopes pretty shallowly, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Parker. ‘That’s the accuracy o’ the fish I’m talkin’ about. Currents are somethin’ else. You shoot across a current an’ the fish is goin’ to be carried sideways, an’ don’t forget it’ll be in the water for half an hour. If you have a cross-current of as little as half a knot then the fish will get knocked five hundred yards off course. Still, if you can plot the current you can compensate, an’ you might avoid the problem altogether if you shoot at slack water.’

‘Yeah, that can be gotten around.’ Eastman nibbled at a joint of his thumb thoughtfully. ‘You seem pretty certain about this.’

‘I am,’ said Parker. ‘But it’s goin’ to cost you a hell of a lot. There’s a torpedo in the first place an’ a tube to go wi’ it; there’s high-power mercury cells to be bought an’ they don’t come cheap, an’ there’s...’

‘...the cost of our services,’ said Abbot smoothly. ‘And we don’t come cheap, either.’

‘If you can pull it off you’ll get taken care of,’ said Eastman. ‘If you don’t you’ll get taken care of another way.’ His eyes were chilling.

Parker was unperturbed. ‘I’ll show you that it can be done first. You’ll have sea trials.’

‘Right,’ said Eastman. ‘I’ll have to see the boss about this first.’

‘The boss!’ said Abbot in surprise. ‘I thought you were the boss.’

‘There are a lot of things you don’t know,’ said Eastman. ‘Stick around and stay available.’ He stood up. ‘Where are you guys from?’

‘London,’ said Abbot.

Eastman nodded. ‘Okay — I’ll be seeing you soon.’

‘I don’t want to seem too pushing,’ said Abbot, ‘but what about a retainer? Or shall we say you’ve just taken an option on our services which has to be paid for.’

‘You’ve got a nerve.’ Eastman pulled out his wallet. ‘How much did Picot stick you for?’

‘A thousand Lebanese pounds. Half down, half later.’

‘Okay — here’s two-five; that gives you two thousand clear profit so far — and you haven’t done anything yet. If Picot asks you for the other five hundred tell him to see me.’ He smiled thinly. ‘He won’t, though.’ He turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

Abbot sat down slowly and turned to Parker. ‘I hope to God you can handle your end. We’ve hooked them at last, but they’ve also hooked us. If we can’t deliver we’ll be in trouble.’

Parker filled his pipe with steady hands. ‘They’ll get what they want — an’ maybe a bit more.’ He paused. ‘Do you think he’ll check back to London?’

‘He’s sure to. You’re all right, Dan; there’s nothing in your background to worry him.’ Abbot stretched. ‘As for me — I had a flaming row with my editor just before I left, specially laid on. I’ll bet the echoes are still reverberating down Fleet Street.’ He grinned. ‘I was fired, Dan — out on my can for unprofessional conduct unbefitting a journalist and a gentleman. I only hope it’ll satisfy Eastman and company.’

IV

Eastman did not keep them waiting long. Three days later he rang up and said, ‘Hello, Abbot; put on your best bib and tucker — you’re going on the town tonight.’

‘Where to?’

‘Le Paon Rouge. If you don’t have decent clothes, buy some out of the dough I gave you.’

‘Who’s paying for the night out?’ asked Abbot in his character as a man on the make.

‘It’ll be paid for,’ said Eastman. ‘You’re meeting the boss. Be on your best behaviour. I’ll send a car for you at nine-thirty.’

Abbot put the phone on the hook slowly and turned to find Parker regarding him with interest. ‘Have you got a dinner-jacket, Dan?’

Parker nodded. ‘I packed it on the off-chance I’d need it.’

‘You’ll need it tonight. We’ve been invited to the Paon Rouge.’

‘That’ll be the third time I’ve worn it, then,’ said Parker. He put his hand on his belly. ‘Might be a bit tight. What’s the Paon Rouge?’

‘A night-club in the Hotel Phoenicia. We’re meeting the boss, and if it’s who I think it is, we’ve got it made. We’ve just been told tactfully to shave and brush our teeth nicely.’

‘The Hotel Phoenicia — isn’t that the big place near the Saint-Georges?’

‘That’s it. Do you know what a five-star hotel is, Dan?’

Parker blinked. ‘The Saint-Georges?’ he hazarded.

‘Right! Well, there aren’t enough stars in the book to classify the Phoenicia. Dope-smuggling must be profitable.’

They were picked up by the black Mercedes and driven to the Phoenicia by an uncommunicative Lebanese. Parker was unhappy because his doubts about his evening wear had been confirmed; his dress shirt had taken a determined grip on his throat and was slowly throttling him, and his trousers pinched cruelly at waist and crotch. He made a mental note to start a course of exercises to conquer his middle-age spread.

The name of Eastman dropped to an impressively-dressed major-domo brought them to Eastman’s table with remarkable alacrity. The Paon Rouge was fashionably dark in the night-club manner, but not so dark that Abbot could not spot his quarry; Eastman was sitting with Jeanette Delorme and rose at their approach. ‘Glad you could make it,’ he said conventionally.

‘Delighted, Mr Eastman,’ said Abbot. He looked down at the woman. ‘Is this the boss?’

Eastman smiled. ‘If you cross her you’ll find out.’ He turned to her. ‘This is Abbot, the other is Parker. Gentlemen — Miss Delorme.’

Abbot inclined his head and studied her. She was dressed in a simple sheath which barely covered her upperworks and she appeared to be, at the most, twenty-five years old. He knew for a fact that she was thirty-two, but it was wonderful what money would do. A very expensive proposition was Miss Delorme.

She crooked a finger at him. ‘You — sit here.’ There was a minor flurry as flunkies rearranged chairs and Abbot found himself sitting next to her and facing Parker, with a glass of champagne in his fingers. She studied Parker for a moment, then said, ‘If what Jack tells me is true, I may be willing to employ you. But I need proof.’ Her English was excellent and almost unaccented.

‘You’ll get your proof,’ said Abbot. ‘Dan will give you that.’

Parker said, ‘There’s plenty of sea out there. You can have trials.’

‘Which torpedo would be most suitable?’

‘Doesn’t really matter,’ said Parker. ‘As long as it’s an electric job.’

She twirled her glass slowly in her fingers. ‘I have a friend,’ she said. ‘He was a U-boat captain during the war. His opinion of the British torpedo was very low. He said that on half the firings the British torpedo went wild.’ Her voice became sharp. ‘That would not be permissible.’

‘Christ, no!’ said Eastman. ‘We can’t lose a torpedo — not with what it will be carrying. It would be too goddam expensive.’

‘Ah, you’re talking about the early British torpedoes,’ said Parker. ‘The Mark XI was different. Your U-boat skipper was dead right — the early British fish were bloody awful. But the Mark XI was a Chinese copy o’ the German fish an’ it was very good when it came into service in ’44. We pinched it from the Jerries, an’ the Yanks pinched it from us. Any o’ those torpedoes would be good enough but I’d rather have the old Mark XI — it’s more familiar, like. But they’re all pretty much the same an’ just differ a bit in detail.’

‘On what basis will you get the extra performance?’

‘Look,’ said Parker, leaning forward earnestly. ‘The Mark XI came out in ‘44 an’ it had lead-acid batteries — that was all they had in them days. Twenty-five years have gone by since then, an’ things have changed. The new kalium cells — that’s mercury oxide-zinc — pack a hell o’ a lot more power, an’ you can use that power in two ways. You can either increase the range or the speed. I’ve designed circuits for both jobs.’

‘We’re interested in increasing range,’ said Eastman.

Parker nodded. ‘I know. It’s goin’ to cost you a packet,’ he warned. ‘Mercury cells ain’t cheap.’

‘How much?’ asked Delorme.

Parker scratched his head. ‘Every time you shoot a fish it’ll cost you over a thousand quid just for the power.’

She looked at Eastman, who interpreted, ‘A thousand pounds sterling.’

Abbot sipped his champagne. ‘The cost of everything is going up,’ he observed coolly.

‘That’s a fact,’ said Parker with a grin, ‘Back in ’44 the whole bloody torpedo only cost six hundred quid. I dunno what they cost now, though.’

‘Fifteen hundred pounds,’ said Eastman. ‘That’s the going rate on the surplus market.’

‘There you are,’ said Parker. ‘Another thousand for a trial an’ another for the real job, plus, say, five hundred for conversion. That’s four thousand basic. Then there’s our share on top o’ that.’

‘And what is your share?’ asked Jeanette Delorme.

‘A percentage of the profits,’ said Abbot.

She turned to him. ‘Indeed! And where do you come in on this? It seems that Parker is doing all the work.’

Abbot smiled easily. ‘Let’s say I’m his manager.’

‘There are no passengers in the organization,’ she said flatly.

Parker broke in. ‘Me an’ Mike are mates — I go where he goes, an’ vicey-versey. Besides, I’ll see he works hard — I can’t do it all meself.’

‘It’s a package deal, you see,’ said Abbot. ‘And you talk business to me.’

‘The profits on smuggling gold are not very big,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Oh, come off it,’ said Abbot in disgust. ‘You’re not smuggling gold — you’re running dope.’

She looked at Eastman and then back at Abbot. ‘And how do you know that?’ she asked softly.

‘Just putting two and two together. There was a whisper in London — that’s why we came out here.’

‘That was one whisper too many,’ she snapped.

Abbot smiled. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I was a professional in the whisper-listening business. It was just a matter of chance, and coming out here was a hell of a long shot.’ He shrugged. ‘But it’s paid off.’

‘Not yet,’ she said pointedly. ‘How much do you want?’

Twenty per cent of the take,’ said Abbot promptly.

She laughed. ‘Oh, what a stupid man we have here. Don’t you think so, Jack?’ Eastman grinned, and she said seriously, ‘You will get one per cent and that will make you very rich, Monsieur Michael Abbot.’

‘I may be stupid,’ said Abbot, ‘but I’m not crazy enough to take one per cent.’

Eastman said, ‘I think you are crazy if you expect to get any kind of a percentage. We’re not going to work that way.’

‘That’s right,’ said Delorme. ‘We’ll give you a flat rate for the work. What would you say to a hundred thousand American dollars?’

Abbot raised his eyebrows. ‘Each?’

She hesitated fractionally. ‘Of course.’

‘I’d say it’s not on,’ said Abbot, shaking his head. ‘We’d want at least double that. Do you think I don’t know what the profits are in this racket?’

Eastman chuckled raspingly. ‘You’re both stupid and crazy. Hell, you’ve given us the idea anyway. What’s to prevent us going ahead without you?’

‘Now who’s being stupid?’ asked Abbot. He pointed to Parker. ‘Torpedo mechanics aren’t easy to come by, and those who can do a conversion like this are even rarer. But a mechanic who can and is willing to run dope is as rare as a hen’s tooth. You can’t do it without us — and you know it.’

‘So you figure you’ve got us over a barrel.’ said Eastman ironically. ‘Look, buster; a week ago we didn’t even know you existed. We don’t need you, you know.’

‘But it’s still a good idea, Jack,’ said Delorme thoughtfully. ‘Maybe Abbot will meet us half way.’ She turned to him. ‘This is final — take it or leave it. Three hundred thousand dollars for the two of you. One hundred thousand deposited in a bank here on the successful completion of trials — the rest when the job is done.’

Abbot said, ‘What do you think, Dan?’

Parker’s mouth was open. He closed it, and said, ‘You have the business head; I’ll leave it to you, Mike.’ He swallowed convulsively.

Abbot pondered for a long time. ‘All right; we’ll take it.’

‘Good!’ said Delorme, and smiled radiantly. ‘Order some more champagne, Jack.’

Abbot winked at Parker. ‘Satisfied, Dan?’

‘I’m happy,’ said Parker faintly.

‘I think payment by result is the best way,’ said Abbot, and looked sideways at Eastman. ‘If we’d have stuck to a percentage, Jack here would have cheated the pants off us. He wouldn’t have shown us the books, that’s for certain.’

Eastman grinned. ‘What books?’ He held up a finger and the sommelier came running.

Delorme said, ‘I’d like to dance.’ She looked at Abbot who began to rise, and said, ‘I think I’ll dance with... Mr Parker.’

Abbot subsided and watched her allow the bemused Parker to take her on to the floor. His lips quirked into a smile. ‘So that’s the boss. Something I hadn’t expected.’

‘If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking — forget it,’ advised Eastman. ‘Jeanette isn’t a girl to be monkeyed around with. I’d just as soon fight a buzz-saw with my bare hands.’ He nodded towards the dance floor. ‘Is Parker as good as he says he is?’

‘He’ll do the job. What’s the cargo?’

Eastman hesitated briefly, then said, ‘You’ll get to know, I guess. It’s heroin.’

‘A full cargo — the whole five hundred pounds?’

‘Yeah.’

Abbot whistled and calculated briefly. He laughed. ‘That’s worth about twenty-five million dollars, at least. I topped Jeanette’s one per cent, anyway.’

‘You’re in the big time now,’ said Eastman. ‘But don’t forget — you’re still only a hired hand.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘That whisper you heard in London. Who did it come from?’

Abbot shrugged. ‘You know how it is — a piece comes from here and another from there. You put them all together and get some sort of picture. I’ve had experience at it — I was a reporter.’

‘I know,’ said Eastman calmly. ‘You’ve been checked out. We’ve got nothing on Parker yet, though.’ He stared at Abbot with hard eyes. ‘You’d better not still be a reporter, Abbot.’

‘I couldn’t get a job on the Tolpuddle Gazette,’ said Abbot bitterly. ‘Not with the reputation I’ve got now. If you’ve been checking on me you know I was given the bum’s rush. That’s why I decided to come on this lark and make some real money.’

‘Just a penny ante blackmailer,’ agreed Eastman.

‘They couldn’t prove anything,’ said Abbot defensively.

‘Just keep your nose clean while you’re with us,’ said Eastman. ‘Now, what can you tell us about Parker? The boss wants him checked out, too. She’s very security-minded.’

Abbot obligingly gave him a run-down on Parker, sticking entirely to the known facts. There was no harm in that because the truth was exactly what would serve best. He had just finished when Jeanette and Parker returned to the table, Parker pink in the face.

Jeanette said, ‘I don’t think Dan is accustomed to modern dancing. What about you, Mike Abbot?’

Abbot stood up. ‘Would you like to test me on a trial run?’

In reply she opened her arms as the opening bars of music started and he stepped forward. It was a slow and rather old-fashioned number so he took her in his arms and said, as they stepped on to the floor, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a business like this?’

‘I like the money,’ she said. ‘Just as you do.’

‘You must be making quite a lot,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s not everyone who can lay hands on a hundred thousand dollars’ loose cash — that’s the boodle for the successful trial, in case you’ve forgotten. I take it this isn’t a one-shot venture?’

‘What do you care?’

‘I like to stick where the money is. It would be nice if this built up into a regular income.’

She moved closer to him. ‘There is no reason why not. All that is required is that you do your work and keep your mouth shut. Both are essential to your general health.’

‘Would that be a threat?’ asked Abbot lightly.

She snuggled up to him, pressing her body against his. ‘It would. Nobody plays tricks with me, Monsieur Abbot.’

‘No tricks intended,’ said Abbot, chilled at the disparity between her words and her present actions. He had seen her dossier and it chimed in exactly with Eastman’s description. A buzz-saw, he had said. Anyone laying a hand on Delorme or any of her dubious enterprises would draw back a bloody stump at best. And there was a list of six names of varied nationality to demonstrate the worst. He danced with five-foot-six of warm womanhood pressed vibrantly against him and thought that perhaps she was a spider, after all.

She breathed into his ear, ‘You dance very well, Mike.’ He winced as her teeth nipped his earlobe.

‘Thanks, but there’s no need to be so enthusiastic,’ he said drily.

She giggled. ‘Dan was shocked. He kept talking about his wife and children. Does he really have a wife and children?’

‘Of course. Three kids, I think.’

‘He is a peasant type,’ she said. ‘His brains are in his hands. You are different.’

Abbot chuckled internally at the outrage Parker would show at being described as a peasant. ‘How am I different?’

‘You know very well,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the organization, Mike. We’ll try to keep you very happy.’

He grinned in the semi-darkness. ‘Does that include Jack Eastman?’

‘Never mind Jack Eastman,’ she said, her voice suddenly sharp. ‘Jack will do what I tell him. He doesn’t...’ She stopped speaking and made a sinuous movement so that her breasts nuzzled his chest. ‘I’ll keep you very happy,’ she whispered.

The music stopped and she stepped away from him after a lingering moment. He escorted her back to the table and thought he saw a satirical gleam in Eastman’s eye.

‘I’m not tired yet,’ she said. ‘It’s nice having three escorts. Come on, Jack.’

Eastman took her on to the floor again and Abbot dropped into the chair next to Parker. He found he was sweating slightly. Must be the heat, he thought, and picked up his newly refilled champagne glass.

Parker looked at the throng on the dance floor. ‘That woman scares me,’ he said gloomily.

‘What did she do — try to rape you on the floor?’

‘Bloody near.’ Parker’s brow turned pink again. ‘By God, if my missus could have seen me there’d be a divorce tomorrow.’ He tugged at his collar. ‘She’s a man-eater, all right.’

‘It seems as though our jobs are neatly allocated,’ said Abbot. ‘You look after the torpedo and I look after Jeanette.’ He sipped his champagne. ‘Or she looks after me, if I understood her correctly.’

He found he was smiling.

They stayed for quite a while at the Paon Rouge, dining and watching the cabaret. They left at about two in the morning to find the Mercedes waiting outside. Eastman got in the front next to the driver, and Abbot found himself rubbing shoulders and legs with Jeanette who wore a shimmering silver cape.

The car moved away, and after a while he looked out of the window at the sea and said, ‘It would be helpful if I knew where we were going.’

‘You’ll find out,’ she said, and opened her cigarette case. ‘Give me a light.’

He flicked his lighter and saw Parker sitting on the other side of Jeanette, easing his tight collar. ‘You’re the boss.’

The car proceeded smoothly on the road out of Beirut towards Tripoli and he wondered where it was taking them — and why. He did not wonder long because presently it swung off the road and drew up in front of a large wooden gate which was swung open by an Arab. The car rolled into a large yard and stopped.

They got out and Abbot looked around. As far as he could see in the darkness it seemed to be some sort of factory. A large shed loomed against the night sky, and beyond the moon sparkled on the sea. ‘This way,’ said Eastman, and Abbot followed him into an office.

The first thing he saw when the lights snapped on was his own suitcase against the wall. ‘What the hell...?’

‘You’ll be staying here,’ said Eastman. ‘There are two beds in the next room. No bathroom, I’m afraid — but there’s a wash-basin.’ He glanced at Jeanette and then his gaze came back to Abbot. ‘You should be quite comfortable,’ he said sardonically. ‘Ali will do your cooking.’

Jeanette said, ‘You’ll stay here until after the trials of the torpedo. How long you stay depends on yourselves.’ She smiled and said lightly, ‘But I’ll come to see you — often.’ She turned to Parker and said abruptly, ‘How long to make the conversion?’

Parker shrugged. ‘Two weeks — with the right equipment. A hell of a long time, or never, without it. But I’ll have to have a torpedo first.’

She nodded. ‘Come with me.’ They followed her from the office and across the yard to the big shed. Ali, the Arab, produced a big key and unlocked the door, then stood back to allow them to enter. The shed was on two levels and they came out on a platform overlooking the main workshop. A flight of wooden stairs led down to ground level.

Abbot looked over the rail, and said, ‘Well, I’m damned! You were pretty sure of us, weren’t you?’

Illumined under harsh lighting was a sleek and deadlylooking torpedo set up on trestles, gleaming because of the thin film of protective oil which covered it. To Abbot it looked enormous, and the first thought that came into his head was: How in hell did this bitch lay her hands on a torpedo at three days’ notice?