The Spoilers

I

Warren checked the maps again, and his pen traced out the record of their journeys. The two weeks they had spent in Kurdistan had been wasted, but he did not see how they could have done differently. There had been a chance, admittedly a slim one, of running across Speering, and they could not have passed it by. But it had been a futile two weeks.

So they had returned to Tehran in the hope of finding something, what he did not know. All he knew was that he had failed, and failed dismally. Every time he had to write to Hellier confessing failure he cursed and fretted. The only bright spot was that Abbot and Parker seemed to be making good in the Lebanon — it seemed that his ‘insurance policy’ might pay off in the end. But now they had dropped out of sight and he did not know what to make of it.

Johnny Follet took it all phlegmatically. He did not know what Warren was looking for so assiduously, nor did he care so long as he was paid. He had long ago written off his resentment against Warren and was quite enjoying himself in Tehran, and took it as a pleasant and exotic holiday. He wandered the streets and saw the sights, and presently found himself some congenial companions.

Ben Bryan was also uneasy, if not as much as Warren, but that may have been because he did not have Warren’s overall responsibility. He and Warren pored over the maps of northwest Iran trying to figure out where Speering could have gone to ground. ‘It’s no use,’ said Ben. ‘If these maps were up to the standard of British Ordnance Survey we might have a hope, but half the damned roads up there aren’t even shown here.’

‘So what do we do?’ asked Warren.

Ben did not know, and they all idled in low gear.

Andy Tozier had a problem — a minor problem, true — but still a problem, and it puzzled him mightily. He was losing money steadily to Johnny Follet and he could not see how the trick was worked. The money he lost was not much when considered against the number of games played, but the steady trickle annoyed him.

He spoke to Warren about it. ‘On the face of it, it’s a fair game — I can’t see how he does it.’

‘I wouldn’t trust Johnny to play a fair game,’ said Warren. ‘What is it this time?’

‘It goes like this. We each have a coin, and we match coins. We don’t toss them, so the element of chance is eliminated as far as that goes — we each have control as to whether we show a head or a tail. Got that?’

‘It seems all right so far,’ said Warren cautiously.

‘Yes,’ said Tozier. ‘Now, if I show heads and he shows tails he pays me thirty pounds. If I show tails and he shows heads he pays me ten pounds.’

Warren thought about it. ‘Those are two of the four possible occurrences.’

‘Right!’ said Tozier. ‘The other two occurrences are both heads or both tails. If either of those happen I pay him twenty pounds.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Warren, and scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘There are four possible cases of which you can win two and he can win two. Taking all four cases as equal — which they are — if they all happen you will win forty pounds — and so will he. It seems a fair game to me.’ It also seemed a childish game but that he did not say.

‘Then why the hell is he winning?’ demanded Tozier. ‘I’m nearly a hundred pounds down already.’

‘You mean to say that you never win?’

‘Oh, no. I win games and so does he — but he wins more often. It’s a sort of see-saw, but he seems to have more weight than I have and my money tends to roll towards him. The thing that makes me wild is that I can’t figure the gimmick.’

‘Perhaps you’d better stop playing.’

‘Not until I find out how he does it,’ said Tozier determinedly. ‘The thing that gets me is that it isn’t as though he could ring in a double-headed penny — that wouldn’t help him. Hell, it would make it worse for him because then I’d know what he was calling and I’d act accordingly.’ He grinned. ‘I’m willing to go another hundred just to find the secret. It’s a profitable game — I could use it myself if I knew how.’

‘It seems as though you’ll have plenty of time to play,’ said Warren acidly. ‘We’re getting nowhere here.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Tozier. ‘I’ve had an idea. What about that pharmaceutical place where Speering ordered his supplies? They’d deliver the stuff, wouldn’t they? So they must have an address somewhere in their records. All we have to do is to extract it somehow.’

Warren looked at him wearily. ‘Are you suggesting a burglary?’

‘Something like that.’

I’ve thought of it, too,’ admitted Warren. ‘But just tell me one thing. How the devil are we going to recognize what we want even if we see it? These people keep records in Persian, which is a foreign language to begin with, and in Arabic script which none of us can read. Could you sort it out, Andy?’

‘Hell, I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Tozier. ‘My colloquial Arabic isn’t bad but I can’t read the stuff.’ He looked up. ‘Do you mind if I talk to Johnny about this?’

Warren hesitated. ‘Not as long as you stick to generalities. I don’t want him knowing too much.’

‘I won’t tell him more than he ought to know. But it’s about time he was put to work. He’s a good con man and if we can’t get the information in any other way then perhaps we can get it by Johnny’s fast talk.’

So Tozier talked to Johnny Follet and Johnny listened. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Give me a couple of days and I’ll see what I can come up with.’ He disappeared into the streets of Tehran and they did not see him for four days. When he came back he reported to Tozier, ‘It can be done. It’ll take a bit of fooling around, but it can be done. You can have the information in less than a week.’

II

Follet’s plan was so diabolical that it raised the hairs on the back of Warren’s head. He said, ‘You’ve got an evil mind, Johnny.’

‘I guess so,’ said Follet insouciantly. ‘There’s a part for everyone — the more the merrier. But for Christ’s sake take it seriously; it’s got to look good and real.’

Tell me more about this man.’

‘He’s assistant to the Chief Clerk in the Stores Department of the company. That means he issues goods against indents and keeps the books on quantities. He’s just the guy to have the information you need — or to be in a position to get it. There’s no money involved because he never handles it; all that is done by the main office. That’s a pity in a way because we lose a chance of really hooking him.’

‘Why don’t we just bribe him?’ asked Tozier.

‘Because the guy’s honest, that’s why — or a reasonable facsimile. Suppose we tried to bribe him and it didn’t take? He’d report to his bosses and the information would be whisked out of that office so fast that we wouldn’t get another chance at it. And they might tell the police and then we’d be in trouble.’

‘They might not tell the police,’ said Warren. ‘We don’t know how much this firm is involved with Speering, but it’s my guess that it’s in on the whole thing. It must be. Any firm issuing certain chemicals and equipment has a damned good idea of what they’ll be used for. It’s my guess that this crowd is in it up to its collective neck.’

‘What thing?’ asked Follet alertly.

‘Never mind, Johnny; carry on with what you were saying.’

Follet shrugged. ‘This guy — Javid Raqi — is a bright boy. He speaks English well, he’s had a good education and he’s ambitious. I guess that chief clerk won’t last long with friend Javid on his heels. He has only one flaw — he’s a gambler.’

Tozier smiled. ‘Your flaw, Johnny?’

‘Not mine,’ said Follet promptly. ‘He’s a sucker gambler. Now, that doesn’t mean he’s a fool. He’s learned to play poker — the guys working on the gas line taught him — and he’s a good player. I know because he’s gotten some of my dough right now, and I didn’t have to let him win it, either — he gouged it out of me like a pro. But it means he can be got at — he can be had; and once he’s been got at then we squeeze him goddam hard.’

Warren wrinkled his nose distastefully. ‘I wish there were some other way of doing this.’

‘Never give a sucker an even break,’ said Follet, and turned to Tozier. ‘The whole scheme hinges on that videotape gadget. How well does it work?’

‘I have it set up in my room; it works very well.’

‘That I have to see for myself,’ said Follet. ‘Let’s all go up there.’

They all went up to Tozier’s room and Tozier switched on the TV and pointed to the videotape machine. ‘There it is. It’s already connected to the TV set.’

The machine looked very much like an ordinary tape recorder, although bulkier than most. The tape, however, was an inch wide and the reels were oversized. Follet bent down and examined it interestedly. ‘I’d like to get this just right; this gadget will take in everything — sight and sound both?’

‘That’s it,’ said Tozier.

‘How’s the quality?’

‘If you use the video-camera there’s a bit of blurring, particularly on movement, but if you take a taping of a TV programme then the reproduction is indistinguishable from the original.’ He looked at the TV screen. ‘I’ll show you now.’

A man was speaking and his voice was heard as Tozier turned up the volume. Warren did not know the language but it seemed to be a news broadcast because the man disappeared and a street scene replaced him, although his voice continued. Tozier bent down and flicked a switch and the reels began to turn, much faster than a normal recording machine. ‘We’re recording now.’

‘That tape’s fairly whipping through,’ commented Follet. ‘How long can you record?’

‘An hour.’

‘Hell, that’s plenty.’ He regarded the television screen for a while, then said, ‘Okay, let’s have a repeat.’

Tozier ran the tape back and switched the television set to a previously selected unused channel. He stopped the recorder and set it to playback, then snapped the starting switch. On the television screen appeared the street scene they had just witnessed, together with the voice of the announcer.

Follet bent forward with a critical eye on the screen. ‘Hey, this quality’s fine. It’s just about as good as the original, like you said. This is going to work.’

He straightened. ‘Now, look, the action starts on Saturday and you’ve got to get it right. Not only have you got to get every word right, but the way you say the word. No false notes.’ He looked at them appraisingly. ‘You’re amateurs at this game, so we’ll have some rehearsals. Imagine we’re putting on a play and I’m the producer. You only have to play to an audience of one.’

‘I can’t act,’ said Bryan. ‘I never could.’

‘That’s okay — you can work this television gadget. As for the rest of us — I’ll play the easy guy, Andy does the hard-nosed stuff, and Warren can be the boss.’ Follet grinned as he saw the expression on Warren’s face. ‘You don’t say much and you say it quietly. The way I figure it the less acting you do the better. An ordinary conversational tone can sound real menacing in some situations.’

He looked about the room. ‘Now, where do we put Ben and the videotape?’

Tozier went to the window, opened it and looked out. ‘I think I can run a line into your room, Johnny. We can settle Ben in there.’

‘Good enough,’ said Follet. He slapped his hands together, ‘Okay, first rehearsal — beginners, please.’

III

At twelve-thirty on Saturday they waited in a lounge just off the foyer of the hotel, not exactly in hiding but certainly concealed from casual inspection. Follet nudged Warren. ‘There he is — I told him to wait for me in the bar. You go in first; Andy will give you time to settle, and I’ll be in right after. Get going.’

As Warren left, he said a little worriedly to Tozier, ‘I hope Ben doesn’t ball up his bit with the television.’

Warren crossed the foyer and entered the bar where he ordered a drink. Javid Raqi was seated at a table and appeared to be somewhat nervous, although probably not as nervous as Warren as he steeled himself to play his part in the charade. Raqi was a young man of about twenty-five, smartly dressed in European fashion from top to toe. He was darkly handsome if you like Valentino looks, and probably had a great future. Warren felt sorry for him.

Tozier appeared at the door, his jacket draped carelessly over his arm. He walked forward, past Raqi, and something apparently dropped from a pocket to plop right at Raqi’s feet. It was a fat wallet of brown leather. Raqi looked down and stooped, then straightened with the wallet in his hand. He looked towards Tozier who had walked on without missing a pace, then followed him to the bar.

Warren heard the murmur of voices and then the louder tones of Tozier. ‘Well, thank you. That was very careless of me. Allow me to buy you a drink.’

Johnny Follet was now in the room, on Raqi’s heels. ‘Hi, Javid; I didn’t know you two knew each other.’ There was surprise in his voice.

‘We don’t, Mr Follet,’ said Raqi.

‘Oh!’ said Tozier. ‘So this is who you were talking about, Johnny. Mr Raqi — that’s the name, isn’t it? — just rescued my wallet.’ He opened it to display a thick wad of notes. ‘He could have taken the lot without winning it.’

Follet chuckled. ‘He’ll probably take it anyway. He’s a right sharp poker-player.’ He looked around. ‘There’s Nick. It’ll be a foursome, Javid; does that suit you?’

Raqi said a little shyly, ‘That’s all right, Mr Follet.’

‘The hell with Mr Follet. We’re all friends here. I’m Johnny and this is Andy Tozier — and coming over is Nick Warren. Gentlemen, Javid Raqi, the best poker-player I’ve come across in Tehran — and I’m not kidding.’

Warren smiled stiffly at Raqi and murmured something conventional. Follet said, ‘Don’t buy a drink, Andy; let’s go where the action is. I have everything laid on — booze and food both.’

They all went up to Tozier’s room, where the television set had been moved over to the window. Follet had laid on quite a spread; there was cold chicken, sausages of various sorts and salads, together with some unopened bottles of whisky. Everything was set for a long session. Unobtrusively, Warren looked at his watch — it read just after twelve — exactly half an hour slow. He wondered how Follet would doctor the expensive-looking watch he saw on Raqi’s slim brown wrist without Raqi knowing it had been done.

Follet opened a drawer and tossed a sealed pack of cards on to the table. ‘There you are, Javid; you have first deal. Stranger’s privilege — but you won’t be a stranger long. Go easy on the water in mine, Nick.’

Warren poured four drinks and brought them to the table. Raqi was shuffling the cards. He seemed to do it expertly enough, although Warren was no judge of that. He was not as good as Follet, of that he was sure.

Follet looked about the table. ‘We’ll be confining ourselves to draw poker, gentlemen — there’ll be none of your fancy wild hands here; this is a serious game for serious gamblers. Let’s play poker.’

Raqi dealt the cards, five to each, and said in a quiet voice, ‘Jacks or better open.’

Warren looked at his cards. He was not a good pokerplayer, although he knew the rules. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Follet had said. ‘You don’t want to win, anyway.’ But he had schooled Warren in a couple of intensive lessons all the same.

At the end of the first hour he was losing — about four thousand rials to the bad — say twenty-two pounds. Tozier had lost a little, too, but not nearly as much. Follet had won a little and Raqi was on top, winning about five thousand rials.

Follet riffled the cards. ‘What did I tell you? This boy can play poker,’ he said jovially. ‘Say, that’s a nice watch you have there, Javid. Mind if I have a look at it?’

Raqi was flushed with success and was not nearly as shy and nervous as he had been at first. ‘Of course,’ he said easily, and slipped it from his wrist.

As Follet took it, Warren said, ‘You speak very good English, Javid. Where did you learn it?’

‘I studied at school, Nick; then I went to night classes.’ He smiled. ‘This is where I practise it — at the poker table.’

‘You’re doing very well.’

Tozier counted his money. ‘Play poker,’ he said. ‘I’m losing.’

Follet grinned. ‘I warned you Javid would take your wad.’ He held out the watch on his forefinger, but somehow it seemed to slip and it dropped to the floor. Follet pushed back his chair and there was a crunch. ‘Oh, hell!’ he exclaimed in disgust, and picked up the watch. ‘I’ve bust the dial.’ He held it to his ear. ‘It’s still going, though.’

Raqi held out his hand, ‘It does not matter, Johnny.’

‘It matters to me,’ said Follet. ‘I’ll have it fixed for you.’ He dropped it into his shirt pocket. ‘No, I insist,’ he said over Raqi’s expostulations. ‘I did the damage — I’ll pay for the fixing. Whose deal is it?’ Raqi subsided.

They continued to play and Raqi continued to win. As far as Warren could judge he was a good natural poker-player and he did not think Follet was discreetly assisting him, although he did not have the special knowledge to know if this was correct. He did know that he himself was losing steadily, although he played as best he could. Tozier recouped his earlier losses and stood about even, but Follet was on the losing side.

The haze of cigarette smoke in the room grew thicker and Warren began to get a slight headache. This was not his idea of a pleasant Saturday afternoon’s entertainment. He glanced at his watch and saw that it read half-past-two. Ben Bryan, in the next room, ought to be busy taping the television programme.

At quarter to three Tozier threw in his hand with an expression of disgust. ‘Hey!’ he said in alarm. ‘You’d better make that call.’

Follet looked at his watch. ‘Christ, I nearly forgot. It’s quarter to three already.’ He stood up and walked over to the telephone.

‘I thought it would be later than that,’ said Raqi in mild surprise.

Warren uncovered his watch with the dial turned towards Raqi. ‘No — that’s all it is. It might be a bit late for us, though.’

Follet had his hand on the telephone when Tozier said curtly, ‘Not that one, Johnny. Make the call from the lobby.’ He jerked his head at Raqi meaningly.

‘Javid’s all right,’ said Follet easily.

‘I said make it from the lobby.’

‘Don’t be so hard-nosed, Andy. Here you have a guy who was honest enough to give you back your wallet when he didn’t know who the hell you were. Why cut him out?’

Warren said quietly, ‘You always were a hard case, Andy.’

Raqi was looking from face to face, not understanding what was going on. Tozier shrugged with ill-grace. ‘No skin off my nose — but I thought you wanted to keep it quiet.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Warren indifferently. ‘Javid’s all right — we know that. Make the call, Johnny; it’s getting late. If we argue over it any more we’ll miss post time.’

‘Okay,’ said Follet and began to dial. His body screened the telephone from view. There was a pause. ‘Is that you, Jamshid?... Yeah, I know; things are bad all round... this time I’m going to win, I promise you... I’m still in time for the three o’clock race — make it twenty thousand rials on Al Fahkri.’ He turned and grinned at Raqi. ‘Yeah, on the nose... and, say, put on another two thousand for a friend of mine.’

He put down the telephone. ‘The bet’s on, boys; the odds are eight to one. And there’s two thousand on for you, Javid.’

‘But, Johnny, I don’t bet the horses,’ protested Raqi. ‘Two thousand rials is a lot of money.’

‘Have it on the house,’ said Follet generously. ‘Andy’s putting up the stake as a penance. Aren’t you, Andy?’

‘Go to hell,’ said Tozier morosely.

‘Quit worrying, Javid,’ said Follet. ‘I’ll stake you.’ He turned to Warren. ‘The kid can stay and watch. None of us can speak the lingo, so he can tell us which horse wins — as if we didn’t know.’

‘Why don’t you keep your big mouth shut?’ said Tozier in exasperation.

‘It’s all right, Andy,’ said Warren. ‘Johnny’s right; you’re a mean, ungrateful bastard. How much did you have in your wallet when you dropped it?’

‘About a hundred thousand rials,’ said Tozier reluctantly.

Follet was outraged. ‘And you’re being hard-nosed about giving the kid a reward,’ he cried. ‘Hell, you don’t even have to pay it yourself. Jamshid will do the paying.’ He turned to Raqi. ‘You know Jamshid, kid?’

Raqi gave a small smile. He was embarrassed because he was unaccountably the centre of an argument. ‘Who doesn’t in Tehran? Anyone who bets the horses goes to Jamshid.’

‘Yeah, he’s got quite a reputation,’ agreed Follet. ‘He pays out fast when you win, but God help you if you don’t pay him equally fast when you lose. A real tough baby.’

‘What about watching us win our money?’ suggested Warren. He nodded towards the television set. ‘The race should be corning on soon.’

‘Yeah,’ said Follet and stepped over to the set. Warren crossed his fingers, hoping that Ben had done his job. He had already got the name of the winner of the three o’clock race and transmitted it to Follet during the fake telephone call to Jamshid, but if he had fumbled the recording then the whole scheme was a dead loss.

A voice swelled in volume, speaking Persian, and then the screen filled with a view of a racecourse crowd. Follet looked at the screen appraisingly, and said, ‘About five minutes to go.’ Warren let out his pent-up breath silently.

‘What’s he saying?’ asked Tozier.

‘Just talking about the horses,’ said Raqi. He listened for a while. ‘That’s Al Fahkri — your horse — number five.’

‘Our horse, Javid,’ said Follet jovially. ‘You’re in on this.’ He got up and went to the impromptu bar at the sideboard. ‘I’ll pour the drinks for the celebration now. This race will be fast.’

‘You seem certain you’ll win,’ said Raqi.

Follet turned and winked largely. ‘Certain isn’t the word for it. This one’s blue chip — a gilt-edged security.’ He took his time pouring the drinks.

Tozier said, ‘They’re coming up to the post, Johnny.’

‘Okay, okay; it doesn’t really matter, does it?’

The commentator’s voice rose as the race started, and Warren thought that it did not matter whether you understood the language or not, you could never mistake a horse race for anything else. Raqi was tense as Al Fahkri forged ahead of the pack on the heels of the leading horse. ‘He stands a chance.’

‘More than that,’ said Follet unemotionally. ‘He’s going to win.’

Al Fahkri swept ahead to win by two lengths.

Warren got up and switched off the set. ‘That’s it,’ he said calmly.

‘Here, kid; have a drink on Jamshid,’ said Follet, thrusting a glass into Raqi’s hand. ‘The honest bookie who never welshes. You’re a bit richer than you were this morning.’

Raqi looked at the three of them in turn. Warren had produced a notebook and was methodically jotting down figures; Tozier was gathering up the cards scattered on the table; Follet was beaming in high good humour. He said, hesitantly. ‘The race was... arranged?’

‘Fixed is the word, kid. We’ve bought a couple of good jockeys. I told you it was a gilt-edged investment.’

Guilt-edged would be more like it, thought Warren.

Follet took a wallet from his jacket which was draped over the back of a chair and counted out notes. ‘You don’t have to wait to collect from Jamshid,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that when I collect ours.’ He tossed a roll of currency on the table before Raqi. ‘It was eight to one — there’s your sixteen thousand.’ He grinned. ‘You don’t get your stake back because it wasn’t yours. Okay, kid?’

Raqi took the money in his hands and gazed at it in wonder. ‘Go ahead,’ said Follet. ‘Take it — it’s yours.’

‘Thanks,’ said Raqi, and put the money away quickly.

Tozier said briefly, ‘Let’s play poker.’

‘That’s an idea,’ said Follet. ‘Maybe we can win that sixteen thousand from Javid.’ He sat down as Warren put away the notebook. ‘What’s the score so far, Nick?’

‘Just under two million,’ said Warren. ‘I think we ought to give it a rest for a while.’

‘When we’re hitting the big time? You must be crazy.’

‘Jamshid will be getting worried,’ said Warren. ‘I know we’ve played it clever — he doesn’t know the three of us are a syndicate — but he’ll tumble to it if we don’t watch it. Knowing Jamshid, I wouldn’t like that to happen. I’d like to stay in one piece for a while longer.’

‘Okay,’ said Follet resignedly. ‘Next Saturday is the last — for a while. But why not make it a really big hit this time.’

‘No!’ said Tozier abruptly.

‘Why not? Supposing we put on a hundred thousand at ten to one. That’s another quick million.’ Follet spread his hands. ‘Makes the arithmetic easier, too — a million each.’

‘It’s too risky,’ Warren insisted.

‘Say, I have an idea,’ said Follet excitedly. ‘Jamshid doesn’t know Javid here. Why can’t Javid lay the bet for us? It’s good for us and it’s good for him. He can add his own dough and make a killing for himself. How about that, Javid?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Raqi uncertainly.

Tozier looked interested. ‘It could work,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘You could be a rich man, Javid,’ said Follet. ‘You take that sixteen thousand you just won and you could turn it into a hundred and sixty thousand — that’s as much as the three of us made today. And you can’t miss — that’s the beauty of it.’

Raqi took the hire as a trout takes a fly. ‘All right,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Very well,’ said Warren, capitulating. ‘But this is the last time this year. Is that understood?’

Follet nodded, and Tozier said, ‘Let’s play poker.’

‘Until six o’clock,’ said Warren. ‘I have a date tonight. Win or lose we stop at six.’

He won back most of his losses during the rest of the afternoon. Some of it was made by a big pot won on an outrageous bluff, but he seemed to have much better hands. At six o’clock he was down a mere thousand rials. He had unobtrusively put his watch right, too.

‘That’s it,’ said Follet. ‘See you next week, Javid.’ He winked. ‘You’ll be in the big time then.’

When Raqi had gone Warren got up and stretched. ‘What a way to pass a day,’ he said.

‘Our boy’s very happy,’ said Follet. ‘He’s broken into the big time and it hasn’t cost him a cent. Let’s figure out how much he’s into us for. What did you lose, Warren?’

‘A thousand as near as damn it.’

‘Andy?’

‘Close on three thousand. He can play poker.’

‘That he can,’ said Follet. ‘I had to cut into him after the race — I didn’t want him to think he can make more playing poker than playing the horses.’ He looked up at Warren. ‘You’re no poker player. Now, let’s see — I’m out a thousand, so he’s taken a total of twenty-one thousand, including that dough I gave him for the race. He’ll be back next week.’

‘Greedy for more,’ said Tozier. ‘I thought you said he was honest.’

‘There’s a bit of larceny in all of us,’ said Follet. ‘Cheating a bookie is considered respectable by a lot of upright citizens — like smuggling a bottle of whisky through customs.’ He picked up the pack of cards and riffled them. ‘There’s an old saying among con men — you can’t cheat an honest man. If Javid was really honest this thing wouldn’t work. But he’s as honest as most.’

‘Can you really take money off him at poker?’ asked Warren. ‘A lot depends on that.’

‘I was doing it this afternoon, wasn’t I?’ demanded Follet. ‘You ought to know that better than anyone. You don’t think you started winning by your own good play.’ He extended the pack to Warren. ‘Take the top card.’

Warren took it. It was the nine of diamonds.

Follet was still holding the pack. ‘Put it back. Now I’m going to deal that top card on to the table. Watch me carefully.’ He picked up the top card and spun it smoothly on to the table in front of Warren. ‘Now turn it over.’

Warren turned over the ace of clubs.

Follet laughed. ‘I’m a pretty good second dealer. I dealt the second card, not the top card, but you didn’t spot it.’ He held up his hand. ‘If you see any guy holding a pack of cards like this, don’t play with him. That’s the mechanic’s grip, and he’ll second deal you, bottom deal you, and strip your pockets. I’ll take Javid Raqi all right.’

IV

It was a long week. Warren understood the necessity for inaction but it still irked him. Tozier and Follet played their coin-matching game interminably and Tozier steadily lost, much to his annoyance. ‘I’ll figure this out if it’s the last thing I do,’ he said, and Follet chuckled comfortably.

Warren could not see the fascination the game held for Tozier. It seemed to be a childish game although there was the problem of why Follet won so consistently in what seemed to be an even game in which there was no possibility of cheating.

Bryan was as restless as Warren. ‘I feel out of it,’ he said. ‘Like a spare wheel. I feel as though I’m doing nothing and going nowhere.’

‘You’re not the only one who feels that way,’ said Warren irritably.

‘Yes, but I was stuck playing with that bloody video recorder while you three were having all the fun.’

‘That’s the most important part, Ben.’

‘Maybe — but it’s over now. You won’t need the recorder this time. So what do I do — twiddle my thumbs?’

Follet looked up. ‘Wait a minute.’ He eyed Ben speculatively. ‘Maybe we’re passing up a chance here. I think we can use you, Ben, but it’ll need a bit of rehearsal with me and Andy. It’ll be important, too. Are you game for it?’

‘Of course,’ said Bryan eagerly.

So the three of them went to Follet’s room with Follet saying, ‘Nothing to trouble you with, Nick; it’s best you don’t know what’s going to happen. You’re a lousy actor, anyway, and I want this to come as a real surprise.’

Came Saturday and Javid Raqi arrived early. Follet had telephoned him and suggested a lengthened session starting in the morning, and Raqi had eagerly agreed. ‘We’ve got to have time to strip the little bastard,’ said Follet cynically.

They started to play poker at ten-thirty and, to begin with, Raqi won as he had the previous week. But then things seemed to go against him. His three kings were beaten by Warren’s three aces; his full house was beaten by Tozier’s four threes; his ace-high flush was beaten by Follet’s full house. Not that this seemed to happen often but when it did the pots were big and Raqi lost heavily. His steady trickle of winning hands was more than offset by his few occasional heavy losses.

By midday he had exhausted the contents of his wallet and hesitantly drew out an envelope. Impatiently he ripped it open and spilled a pile of money on to the table.

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ asked Follet gently.

‘I still have money — plenty money,’ said Raqi tensely.

‘No offence,’ said Follet as he gathered the cards. ‘I guess you know what you’re doing. You’re a big boy now.’ He dealt cards. Javid Raqi lost again.

By two in the afternoon Raqi was almost cleaned out. He had been holding his own for about half an hour and the money in front of him — about a thousand rials — ebbed and flowed across the table but, in the main, stayed steady. Warren guessed that Follet was organizing that and he felt a little sick. He did not like this cat and mouse game.

At last Tozier looked at his watch. ‘We’d better switch to the horses,’ he said. ‘There’s not much time.’

‘Sure,’ said Follet. ‘Put up the stake, Nick; you’re the banker. Javid, you know what to do?’

Raqi looked a little pale. ‘Just make the phone call,’ he said listlessly as Warren counted out large denomination notes on to the table.

‘Hell, no!’ said Follet. ‘Jamshid doesn’t accept credit bets over twenty-five thousand, and we three are putting up a hundred thousand. You have to stake it at Jamshid’s place — cash on the barrel head. How much are you putting in, Javid?’

Raqi swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’ He made a feeble gesture at the table. ‘I’ve... I’ve lost it,’ he said plaintively.

‘Too bad,’ said Tozier evenly. ‘Better luck next time.’

Warren patted the notes together. ‘A hundred thousand,’ he said, and pushed the stack across the table.

‘You’ll still put this on for us, won’t you?’ said Follet, pushing the money across to Raqi. ‘You said you would.’

Raqi nodded. He hesitated, then said, ‘Could... could you... er... could you lend me some — until it’s over?’

Follet looked at him pityingly. ‘Hey, kid; you’re in the big time now. You play with your own dough. You might swap nickels and dimes in a penny-ante school but not here.’

Tozier’s snort of disgust seemed to unnerve Raqi and he flinched as though someone had hit him. ‘But... but...’ he stammered.

Warren shook his head. ‘Sorry, Javid; but I thought you understood. Everybody here stands his own racket.’ He paused. ‘I suppose you could say it’s not good form — not good etiquette — to borrow.’

Raqi was sweating. He looked at the backs of his hands which were trembling, and thrust them into his pockets. He swallowed. ‘When do I have to go to Jamshid’s?’

‘Any time before the nags go to the post,’ said Follet. ‘But we’d like to get the dough in fairly early. We don’t want to miss out on this — it’s the big one.’

‘Do you mind if I go out for a few minutes?’ asked Raqi.

‘Not so long as you’re back in time,’ said Follet. ‘This is the big one, like I told you.’

Raqi got up. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘Not more than half an hour.’ He went out and seemed to stumble at the door.

Follet listened for the click of the latch, then said softly. ‘He’s hooked.’

‘But will he come back?’ asked Warren.

‘He’ll be back. When you put a sucker on the send he always comes back,’ said Follet with cynical certitude.

‘How much did we take him for?’ asked Tozier.

Follet counted money and did a calculation. ‘I make it just over forty-eight thousand. He must have drawn out his savings for the big kill, but we got to it first. He’ll be sweating blood right now, wondering where to raise the wind.’

‘Where will he get it?’ asked Warren.

‘Who cares? But he’ll get it — that’s a certainty. He knows he’s on to a good thing and he won’t pass up the chance now. He won’t be able to resist cheating Jamshid, so he’ll find the dough somehow.’

Tozier and Follet matched coins while they waited for Raqi to come back — a sheep to the slaughter — and Follet came out the worse for a change. He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter — the percentages are still on my side.’

‘I wish I knew how,’ said Tozier venomously. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this one yet. I think I can see a way.’

There was a soft knock at the door. ‘That’s our boy,’ said Follet.

Javid Raqi came into the room quietly when Follet opened the door. He came up to the table and looked at the hundred thousand rials, but he made no move to touch the money. Warren said, ‘All right, Javid?’

Slowly Raqi put out his hands and took the wad of notes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m ready.’ He turned suddenly to Follet. ‘This horse will be all right — it will win?’ he asked urgently.

‘Christ!’ said Follet. ‘You’re holding a hundred thousand of our money and you ask that? Of course it will win. It’s all set up.’

‘Then I’m ready to go,’ said Raqi, and swiftly put away the money.

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Follet. He grinned. ‘It’s not that we don’t trust you, but I’d hate some smart guy to knock you off when you’re carrying our dough. Consider me a bodyguard.’ He put on his jacket. ‘We’ll be back to watch the race,’ he said as he left, shepherding Raqi before him.

Warren sighed. ‘I feed sorry for that boy.’

‘So do I,’ said Tozier. ‘But it’s as Johnny said — if he were honest this would never be happening to him.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Warren, and fell silent. Presently he stirred and said, ‘Supposing the horse wins?’

‘It won’t,’ said Tozier positively. ‘Johnny and I picked the sorriest screw we could find. It might win,’ he conceded, ‘if every other horse in the race breaks a leg.’

With what might have been a chuckle Warren said, ‘But what if it does win? Someone must have faith in it.’

‘Then we’ll have won a hell of a lot of money — and so will Raqi, depending on how much of a stake he’s been able to raise. We’ll have to go through the whole business of breaking him again. But it won’t happen.’

He began to match coins with himself and Warren paced up and down restlessly. Follet and Raqi were away for quite a long time and arrived back just as Warren switched on the set to get the race. Raqi sat at his place at the table; a slight, self-contained figure. Follet was jovial. ‘Javid has the jitters. I keep telling him it’ll be okay, but he can’t stop worrying. He’s been plunging, too — I reckon this is a bit too rich for his blood.’

‘How much did you back the nag for?’ asked Tozier curiously.

Raqi did not answer, but Follet gave a booming laugh. ‘Fifty thousand,’ he said. ‘And the odds are fifteen to one. Our boy stands to make three-quarters of a million rials. I keep telling him it’s okay, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.’

Tozier whistled. Three-quarters of a million rials was about £4,000 — a fortune for a young Iranian clerk. Even his fifty thousand stake was a bit rich — about £260 — approximating to a sizeable bite of Raqi’s annual income. He said, ‘Where did you get that much? Did you go home and break open your piggy bank?’

Warren said sharply, ‘Shut up! The race is about to start.’

‘I’ll pour the drinks for the celebration,’ said Follet, and went over to the sideboard. ‘You guys can cheer for me — the nag’s name is Nuss el-leil.’

‘I don’t get the lingo,’ said Tozier. ‘What’s that mean, Javid?’

Raqi opened bloodless lips. He did not take his eyes off the screen as he answered, ‘Midnight.’

‘A good name for a black horse,’ commented Tozier. ‘There they go.’

Warren glanced sideways at Raqi who was sitting tensely on the edge of his chair, the bluish gleam of the television screen reflected in his eyes. His hands were clasped together in a knuckle-whitening grip.

Tozier jerked irritably. ‘Where the blazes is that horse? Can you see it, Javid?’

‘It’s lying fourth,’ said Raqi. A moment later he said, ‘It’s dropped back to fifth — no, sixth.’ A tremor developed in his hands.

‘What’s that bloody jockey up to?’ demanded Tozier. ‘He’s throwing it away, damn him!’

Fifteen seconds later the race ended. Nuss el-leil was not even placed.

Follet stood transfixed at the sideboard. ‘The little bastard double-crossed us,’ he breathed. In a moment of savagery he hurled a full glass of whisky at the wall where it smashed explosively. ‘I’ll fix his goddam wagon come tomorrow,’ he yelled.

Warren switched off the set. ‘Calm down, Johnny. I told you it couldn’t last forever.’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t reckon it would end this way,’ said Follet bellicosely. ‘I thought Jamshid would cotton on to us. I didn’t think I’d be gypped by that little monkey on the horse. Wait until I get my hands around his scrawny neck.’

‘You’ll leave him alone,’ said Warren sharply. In a more placatory tone he said, ‘So we’ve lost a hundred thousand — that’s only five per cent of our winnings up to now. We’re all right.’ He sat at the table and gathered the cards. ‘Who’s for a game?’

‘I reckon Johnny’s right,’ said Tozier in a hard voice. ‘We can’t let this pass. No jock is going to get the better of me, I tell you that. When I buy a jockey, he bloody well stays bought.’

‘Forget it,’ said Warren curtly. ‘That particular game is over — we move on to something else. I told you this was the last time, didn’t I?’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘For God’s sake, come over here and sit down, Johnny. The world hasn’t come to an end. Besides, it’s your deal.’

Follet sighed as he took his seat. ‘Okay — but it goes against the grain — it really does. Still, you’re the boss.’ He riffle-shuffled the pack and pushed it across the table. ‘Your cut.’

Javid Raqi sat frozen and did not move.

‘Hey!’ said Follet. ‘What’s the matter, kid? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

Two big tears squeezed from Raqi’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

‘For God’s sake!’ said Tozier in disgust. ‘We’ve got a crybaby on our hands.’

‘Shut up, Andy!’ said Warren savagely.

‘What’s the matter, Javid?’ asked Follet. ‘Couldn’t you stand the racket? Couldn’t you afford the fifty thousand?’

Raqi seemed to be staring at an inward scene of horror. His olive complexion had turned a dirty green and he was trembling uncontrollably. He moistened his lips, and whispered, ‘It wasn’t mine.’

‘Oh, that’s bad,’ said Follet commiseratingly. ‘But remember what I told you — you should always play with your own money. I did tell you that, you know — and so did Nick.’

‘I’ll lose my job,’ said Raqi. His voice was filled with desperation. ‘What will my wife say? What will she say?’ His voice rose and cracked. Suddenly he was babbling in Persian and none of them could understand what he was saying.

Follet’s hand came out sharply and cracked Raqi across the cheek, shocking him into silence. ‘Sorry about that, Javid; but you were becoming hysterical. Now, calm down and talk sense. Where did you get the dough?’

‘From the place I work,’ said Raqi, swallowing hard. ‘The chief clerk has a safe — and I have a key. He keeps money for out-of-hand expenses. I went back to the office and... and...’

‘Stole the money,’ said Tozier flatly.

Raqi nodded dejectedly. ‘He’ll know as soon as he opens the safe on Monday. He’ll know it’s...’

‘Take it easy, kid,’ said Follet. ‘You’re not in jail yet.’

That was an aspect that had not hit Raqi, and he stared at Follet with renewed horror. Follet said, ‘Maybe we can help you.’

‘Count me out,’ said Tozier uncompromisingly. ‘I’m not going to subsidise a freeloading kid who’s still wet behind the ears. If he can’t stand the heat, let him get out of the kitchen. He should never have come into this game, anyway. I told you that in the first place.’

Warren looked at Follet who just shrugged, and said, ‘I guess that’s so. You’ve gotta learn by your mistakes, kid. If we bail you out now, you’ll do it again some time else.’

‘Oh, no; I promise — I promise.’ Raqi spread his arms wide on the table, grovelling before Follet. ‘Help me — please help me — I promise...’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, stand up and be a man!’ barked Tozier. He stood up. ‘I can’t stand scenes like this. I’m getting out.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Follet. ‘I think I’ve got something.’ He pointed his finger at Tozier. ‘Weren’t you telling me about a guy who wanted to get something from the company this kid works for? Something about some chemicals?’

Tozier thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘What about it?’

‘How much would he pay?’

‘How the hell do I know?’ said Tozier in a pained voice. ‘This chap was working an angle in which I wasn’t interested.’

‘You could always ask him. There’s a telephone there.’

‘Why should I? There’s nothing in it for me.’

‘For Pete’s sake, can’t you be human for once in your goddam life?’ asked Follet in an exasperated voice.

Warren’s voice was quiet but it cut through the room with authority. ‘Use the phone, Andy.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Tozier picked up his jacket. ‘I think I have the number here somewhere.’

Follet patted Raqi on the shoulder. ‘Bear up, Javid; we’ll get you out of this jam somehow.’ He sat next to him and began to talk to him quietly.

Tozier mumbled to someone on the telephone. At last he put it down and crossed the room with a paper in his hand. ‘This man wants to know who’s been ordering these chemicals — especially in quantity. He wants to know where they were despatched to. He also wants to know of any transactions concerning a man called...’ He peered at the paper. ‘...Speering. That’s it.’ He rubbed the side of his jaw. ‘I screwed him up to forty thousand but he wouldn’t go higher for the information.’

‘Why does he want it?’ asked Warren.

‘I reckon he’s in industrial espionage.’

Follet took the sheet of paper. ‘Who cares why he wants it so long as Javid can deliver?’ He gave the paper to Raqi. ‘Can you get that stuff?’

Raqi wiped his eyes and looked carefully. He nodded, and whispered, ‘I think so. All this is in the stock ledgers.’

‘But the guy will only go to forty thousand, damn him,’ said Follet. ‘For crying out loud, I’m game to help make up the difference.’

‘Count me out on that,’ said Tozier grimly. ‘I’ve done my bit.’

‘Nick?’

‘All right, Johnny; we’ll split it between us.’ Warren sorted out five thousand rials from the money on the table and passed it to Follet.

‘There, you see, Javid; we’ve got ten thousand here. All you have to do to get the other forty thousand is to go back to the office. You have the key?’

Raqi nodded, and allowed Follet to help him to his feet. ‘It will take time,’ he said.

‘Half an hour. That’s all it took to loot the safe this afternoon,’ said Tozier brutally.

Follet saw Raqi to the door and closed it gently. He turned, and said, ‘We’re nearly there. There’s just one thing more to be done.’

Warren sighed. ‘It can’t be any dirtier than what we’ve done already. What is it?’

‘You’re not concerned in it, so rest easy,’ said Follet. ‘Now, all we have to do is wait. I’m going to see Ben — I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

It seemed, to Warren, an eternity before Raqi returned. The minutes ticked by and he contemplated the sort of man he was becoming under the stress of this crazy adventure. Not only was he guilty of blackmailing Follet, but he had assisted in the corruption of a young man who had hitherto been blameless. It was all right for Follet to preach that you can’t cheat an honest man; the men who offer the thirty pieces of silver are just as guilty as he who accepts them.

Again there was the expected knock at the door and Follet went to open it. Raqi had pulled himself together a little and did not seem so woebegone; there was more colour in his cheeks and he did not droop as he had when he left.

Follet said, ‘Well, kid; did you get it?’

Raqi nodded. ‘I took it from the ledgers in English — I thought that would help.’

‘It surely would,’ said Follet, who had forgotten that problem. ‘Let me have it,’

Raqi gave him three sheets of paper which he passed to Tozier. ‘You’ll see it gets to the right place, Andy.’ Tozier nodded, and Follet gave Raqi a bundle of money. ‘There’s your fifty thousand, Javid. You’d better put it back in the safe real fast.’

Raqi was just putting the money into his pocket when the door burst open. A man stood there, his face concealed by a scarf, and holding an automatic pistol. ‘Stay still, everyone,’ he said indistinctly. ‘And you won’t get hurt.’

Warren looked on unbelievingly as the man took a step forward. He wondered who the devil this was and what he thought he was doing. The stranger wagged the gun sideways. ‘Over there,’ he said, and Raqi and Follet moved under the threat to join Warren at the other side of the room.

‘Not you,’ said the man, as Tozier began to obey. ‘You stay there.’ He stepped up to Tozier and plucked the papers from his hand. ‘That’s all I want.’

‘Like hell!’ said Tozier and lunged for him. There was a sharp crack and Tozier stopped as though he had hit a brick wall. A stupid expression appeared on his face and his knees buckled. Slowly, like a falling tree, he toppled, and as he dropped to the ground a gush of blood spurted from his mouth.

There was a bang as the door closed behind the visitor, and a faint reek of gunsmoke permeated the atmosphere.

Follet was the first to move. He darted over to Tozier and knelt down beside him. Then he looked up in wonder: ‘Good Christ — he’s dead!’

Warren crossed the room in two strides, his professional instincts aroused, but Follet straight-armed him. ‘Don’t touch him, Nick; don’t get any blood on you.’ There was something odd in Follet’s tone that made him stop.

Raqi was shaking like an aspen in a hurricane. A moaning sound came from his lips — not words, but the mere repetition of his vocalized gasps — as he stared in horror at the blood spattered on the cuff of his jacket. Follet took him by the arm and shook him. ‘Javid! Javid, stop that! Do you hear me?’

Raqi became more coherent. ‘I’m... I’m all... right.’

‘Listen carefully, then. There’s no need for you to be mixed up in this. I don’t know what the hell it’s all about, but you can get clear if you’re quick about it.’

‘How do you mean?’ Raqi’s rapid breathing was slowing.

Follet looked down at Tozier’s body. ‘Nick and I will get rid of him. Poor guy; he was a bastard if ever there was one, but I wouldn’t have wished this on him. That information his friend wanted must have been really something.’ He turned to Raqi. ‘If you know what’s good for you you’ll get out of here and keep your mouth shut. Go to the office, put the dough back in the safe, go home and say nothing. Do you understand?’ Raqi nodded.

‘Then get going,’ said Follet. ‘And walk — don’t run. Take it easy.’

With a choked cry Raqi bolted from the room and the door slammed behind him.

Follet sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Poor Andy,’ he said. ‘The chivalrous son-of-a-bitch. Okay, you can get up now. Arise, Lazarus.’

Tozier opened his eyes and winked, then leaned up on one elbow. ‘How did it look?’

‘Perfect. I thought Ben had really plugged you.’

Warren stepped over to Follet. ‘Was that play-acting really necessary?’ he asked coldly.

‘It was really necessary,’ said Follet flatly. ‘Let’s suppose we hadn’t blown him off that way. Some time in the next few days he’d start to think and put things together, and it wouldn’t take an egghead to figure he’d been conned. That boy’s not stupid, you know; it’s just that we rushed him — we didn’t give him time to think straight.’

‘So?’

‘So now he’ll never be able to think straight about what happened. The fact of sudden death does that to people. As long as he lives he’ll never be able to figure out what really happened; he’ll never know who shot and killed Andy — or why. Because it doesn’t tie in with anything else. So he’ll keep his mouth shut in case he’s implicated in murder. That’s why we had to blow him off with the cackle bladder.’

‘With the what?’

‘The cackle bladder.’ Follet gestured. ‘Show him, Andy.’

Tozier spat something from his mouth into his hand. ‘I nearly swallowed the damn’ thing.’

He held out his hand to disclose a reddened piece of limp rubber. Follet said, ‘It’s just a little rubber bag filled with chicken blood — a cackle bladder. It’s used quite often to dispose of the chumps when they’re no longer needed around.’ He sniggered. ‘It’s the only other good use for a contraceptive.’

Ben Bryan came in, grinning. ‘How did I do, Johnny?’

‘You did fine, Ben. Where are those papers?’ He took them from Bryan and slapped them into Warren’s limp hand. ‘Those are what you wanted.’

‘Yes,’ said Warren bitterly. ‘These are what I wanted.’

‘You wanted them — you’ve got them,’ said Follet tensely. ‘So use them. But don’t come the big moral act with me, Warren. You’re no better than anyone else.’

He turned away abruptly and walked out of the room.