Whiff of Money

Two

A little after 10.00 hrs. on this bright May morning, Girland came awake. He came awake by slow degrees, groaning a little, stretching and yawning, then remembering he had work to do, he heaved himself reluctantly from under the sheet and walked with eyes half shut into the shower-room. Still only half-awake, he ran his electric shaver over his face, moaning softly to himself and feeling like a resurrected corpse.

He had had an exhausting evening and the girl who had been him had been young and wildly enthusiastic. He had been glad to see her go, and thankful she hadn’t insisted on spending the rest of the night with him.

It wasn’t until he had stood under the blast of cold water from the shower for some minutes that he finally came alive, then he discovered he felt fine. He threw on a sweat shirt and a pair of blue hipsters and as he did so, he found he was hungry. He hurried into the kitchenette and peered hopefully into the refrigerator.

A few minutes later two eggs were cooking in a pan of butter and two thick slices of ham were sizzling under the grill.

The coffee percolator was performing and Girland now felt much more with the world.

After breakfast, he cleared the table, dumping the used crockery into the sink. Then lighting a cigarette, he placed a mirror from his dressing-table on the table. He found a pack of playing cards, then sitting down in front of the mirror, he began to shuffle the cards.

This evening he had been invited to a poker game. He knew that two of the players were professional card sharpers: the other six were pigeons to be fleeced, and Girland had no intention of being fleeced himself.

He hadn’t played serious poker for some time and suspected that his technique might have become rusty. Watching his hands in the mirror, flicking the cards through with lightning speed, he saw that the manoeuvre of bringing all the aces to the top of the deck would be obvious to a trained eye.

He continued to practise for the next hour until he was satisfied that all his rust had been removed. He then began another manoeuvre which was much more difficult: that of dealing himself Ace, King, Queen after eight hands had already been dealt. He was still working on this, the ashtray now over loaded with cigarette butts when the telephone bell rang.

He put down the cards, hesitated, then shrugging, he crossed the room and picked up the receiver.

‘Is that you, Girland?’ a voice asked: a voice that sounded oddly familiar.

‘If it isn’t, some creep is wearing my clothes,’ Girland returned. ‘Who is this?’

‘I shall be with you in ten minutes… wait for me,’ and the line went dead.

Girland replaced the receiver, rubbed the end of his nose and frowned.

‘Unless I am very much mistaken,’ he said aloud, ‘that sounded very much like that old goat, Dorey.’

He looked around the big studio room. It had undergone certain changes for the better since he had lifted several thousand dollars off Dorey. Gone were the canvas deck-chairs that had once served him as armchairs. Now the room sported a deep reclining padded-chair and a big settee which his girl-friends appreciated very much. There was also a splendid Bukhara rag on the floor: its rich colouring did much to give a tone of luxury to this otherwise dark-looking room.

Humming under his breath, Girland put the mirror back on the dressing-table, emptied his cigarette butts into the trash basket, made his bed and then washed up.

Some fifteen minutes later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, then the doorbell rang. He opened the door.

Breathing heavily from the long climb, Dorey surveyed Girland, seeing a slimly-built man, thin-faced with black hair, a few scattered white hairs either side of his temples, dark alert eyes that often had a jeering light in them, a thin hard mouth and a pronounced almost Wellingtonian nose.

Girland looked at the movie projector Dorey was carrying, then with his jeering smile, he shook his head.

‘Not today, thank you… I never buy anything at the door.’

‘Don’t be impertinent,’ Dorey said, trying to regain his breath. ‘I want to talk to you.’

With a resigned shrug, Girland stood aside.

‘Well, come in. This is a surprise. I thought you had retired long ago and were back in the States with your feet up.’

Dorey ignored this. He looked around the room, then eyed the big lush-looking rug, his eyebrows lifting.

‘Hmm… that’s a nice rug you have there… a Bukhara, isn’t it?’

‘Yes… thank you very much.’

Dorey looked sharply at Girland who was grinning.

I suppose that means you bought it with the money you stole from me.’

Girland laughed.

‘Sit down. Take the weight off your feet. It’s a long climb for an elderly gentleman… it even makes me tired sometimes.’

Dorey took off his overcoat, dropped it on a chair, then sat down in the big armchair. He surveyed Girland with disapproval.

‘I have a job for you.’

Girland grimaced, then held out his hands as if to push Dorey away.

‘No, thank you. If it is anything like the last job you landed in my lap, I’m not interested. I’ve finally made up my mind, Dorey, I have had enough of your funny little jobs. I’m getting along very well without you and I intend to continue to get along without you. Working for you is nothing but a pain in the neck.’

‘This is an unofficial job,’ Dorey said, crossing one bird-like leg over the other. He suddenly became aware how comfortable the big armchair was. ‘This is a nice chair you have.’

‘Glad you like it,’ Girland said and smiled. ‘Thank you very much.’

Dorey’s face suddenly relaxed and he gave his dry, wintry smile.

‘You are an amusing rogue, Girland. There are times when I actually find myself liking you. How would you like to pick up ten thousand dollars?’

‘Have you been drinking?’ Girland lifted his eyebrows. He sat on the settee, then stretched out lengthwise, and eyed Dorey with a shade more interest. ‘Ten thousand? Not from you… that would be too much to believe.’

‘Ten thousand and expenses,’ Dorey said, sensing that Girland, like a hungry trout, was now beginnng to nibble at his bait.

‘Could be you just might end up with fifteen or even twenty thousand dollars. Does it interest you?’

Girland laced his fingers at the back of his head. He stared up at the ceiling for some moments, then said, ‘You know something, Dorey? You are not very subtle. You are sure I am for sale. Well, I am not. Every so often you and I get into this kind of huddle and you wave a bait under my nose and I fall for it. So what happens? I pull your chestnuts out of the fire and always land in grief myself. No… I’ll get by without your ten thousand dollars. I’m not interested.’

Dorey smiled.

‘What’s the matter with you, Girland?’ he asked. T thought you still had some guts.’

‘This kind of talk I love! So now, apart from all this money you’re offering, I also have to have guts.’

‘Let’s stop this fooling!’ Dorey said, his voice sharpening. ‘Time is running out. Do you want this job which will pay a guaranteed fifteen thousand dollars or don’t you?’

Girland studied Dorey thoughtfully.

‘Guaranteed?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘How is this fifteen thousand to be paid?’ ‘Five thousand tomorrow and ten thousand when the job is done.’

Girland shook his head.

‘No, Dorey, I don’t go along with that, but I might if you paid ten thousand tomorrow and ten thousand when the job is done. Yes… I just might be tempted on those terms.’

Dorey snorted and got to his feet. ,

‘You’ve heard my terms. I can get anyone to do this job, Girland. Don’t imagine you are the only man…’

‘Save it,’ Girland said and closed his eyes. ‘Nice to see you looking so well considering your age. Thanks for coming. Good-bye.’ Dorey hesitated, then sat down again.

‘One of these days, Girland, I’m going to fix you and fix you good. It’s time you spent a few years in jail…’

‘Are you still here?’ Girland opened his eyes. ‘The trouble with you, Dorey, is you take life too seriously. It’s fatal. Okay, stop looking like an outraged crocodile… have we a deal or haven’t we?’

Dorey choked back his wrath. This was too important to waste further time haggling. Sherman had all the money in the world. He would be furious if he got to know that Dorey was quibbling about money, but it stuck in Dorey’s throat to give this insolent layabout such a sum.

‘Yes… we have a deal,’ he said finally.

Girland eyed him.

‘Ten thousand tomorrow morning, and ten thousand when I have fixed this job?’

Dorey drew in an exasperated breath.

‘Yes.’

Girland swung his legs off the settee and sat up. His face was alert now and his eyes bright.

‘Gome on… tell me. Just what is this job?’

Dorey picked up the movie projector….

‘Do you understand how to work this? I don’t. I want you to see a film.’

‘Oh, sure.’ Girland got to his feet, set up the projector, wound on the film and then pulled the long, gold-coloured curtains over the big studio window.

‘Nice, aren’tthey?’ he said, fingering the material. ‘Again, thanks.’

‘Get on with it!’ Dorey snapped. T can take just so much from you, Girland, but I warn you…’

‘Dorey! That’s temper!’

‘Look at this film and stop behaving like a delinquent!’

Girland laughed. He switched on the projector, throwing the picture on his white wall. He flopped back on the settee and watched what went on on the film.

When he realised the kind of film he was looking at, he muttered, ‘Dorey! You surprise me!’ Then he said nothing further, but sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching the girl and the hooded man in their shameless act.

Finally the film ran off the spool. Girland got up, turned off the projector and pulled back the curtains.

He returned to the settee and lay on it.

‘Go ahead and talk. I don’t imagine you brought this thing along for me to see for fun. What’s it all about?’

‘ There are three other films like this,’ Dorey said. T must find them. I also, want to find the girl in the film. That’s the job, Girland. Do you think you can trace these films and find the girl? Try to be honest with me. The films were taken in Paris so I presume the girl is here too. How about it?’

Girland rubbed his hands on his knees as he studied Dorey.

‘What’s the rest of it?’

‘That’s as much as you need know,’ Dorey snapped. ‘You will be paid.

‘Oh, cut it out! If I handle this, I want the whole photo. Why are you mixed up in this?’

‘That’s not your business, Girland. I want you to trace these other three films and find the girl… that’s what you’re being paid for.’

Girland got up, took a cigarette from a pack on the table and lit it.

‘How’s our future President keeping these days, Dorey? Is he free from trouble and worries… is he happy?’

Dorey started as if he had been stung.

‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘What has… ?’

‘Come off your ladder!’ Girland said impatiently. He returned to the settee and sat down, facing Dorey, his eyes probing and hard. ‘You forget I get around in this city. You forget I was once one of your dreary agents. You forget I meet and see lots of people you have never heard of. That girl on the film is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States… God help them! No wonder you’ve come here offering me all this money. Well, Dorey, for perhaps the first time in your life, you have done the right thing, coming to me. This job is right up my cul-de-sac.

Now don’t look like a turkey with colic. She’s Sherman’s daughter, isn’t she?’

Dorey drew in a long, slow breath.

‘Do you know her?’

‘I’ve seen her… I don’t know her. I ran into her at a pot party. She was stoned. Some little wasp whispered in my ear that she was Sherman’s daughter. This would be three months ago… probably more.’

‘Do you know where to find her?’

‘That’s not answering my question. She is Sherman’s daughter, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’ Dorey hesitated, then plunged on, ‘Sherman is being blackmailed. He’s been warned to stop running for the Presidency or three more films will be mailed to the Opposition Party. They will not only wash him up as President, but they will utterly ruin him. He came to me for unofficial help. I come to you.’

Girland thought for a long moment, his face expressionless.

‘It takes some time to dig the facts out of you, doesn’t it?’ he said finally. ‘So for twenty thousand dollars, Sherman hopes to become President of the United States with me doing his dirty work.’ ‘Isn’t it enough?’ Dorey asked, looking anxious. ‘Oh yes, but I’m wondering if I want to help him. I don’t like him. I may be out of your racket now but I listen and hear things. I know he tried to get rid of his daughter. I don’t dig for that. He is a creep who yearns for power and anyone who gets in his way, goes down the hole. I don’t like his politics. I wouldn’t vote for him. I wouldn’t tell him the time if he asked me.’

Dorey said quietly, ‘Would you put the projector in its case for me? I see I am wasting my time with you, Girland.’

As he got to his feet, Girland said, ‘Don’t be so touchy. You know I’ll do the job. You know if the money is big enough, I’ll do any job. You get off. Leave the film with me. I’ll let you know something in a day or so.’ Dorey regarded him. ‘It’s a deal then?’

‘Oh, sure.’ Girland sounded bored. ‘I’m always a sucker for money.’ He suddenly grinned. ‘I want ten thousand dollars in traveller’s cheques right here tomorrow morning. I’ll trust you to pay the balance when the job is done.’

‘I’ll arrange it.’ Dorey put on his overcoat. ‘I don’t have to remind you to be careful… if there is the slightest leak…’

‘On your way.’ Girland waved to the door. ‘This is my pigeon now. You don’t have to remind me about anything.’

Max Lintz was tall and bony. He had recently come from East Berlin to work for the Soviet Security in Paris. Nearing fifty years of age, balding with deep-set eyes and a thin, sour mouth, he was known to be an expert tracker of men and an expert pistol shot.

Drina liked him. They were of the same age and they got along well together. Whereas Paul Labrey, because of his youth and his manner, often made Drina boil with fury, Lintz had a soothing effect on him.

They were sitting at a cafe near Girland’s apartment, waiting.

‘Would you prefer to follow Dorey?’ Lintz asked suddenly. I will take care of Girland… if you wish.’

Drina shifted, frowning. This remark implied that he wasn’t capable of following Girland and he looked sharply at Lintz.

‘We obey orders, comrade. I am to watch Girland. Comrade Kovski said so.’

Lintz shrugged.

‘As you will, but be careful. Girland is a professional.’

Again Drina shifted in his chair.

‘So am I.’ He stared suspiciously at Lintz. ‘Don’t you think so?’

Although Lintz liked Drina, he secretly thought he was well past his prime. He thought Kovski had made a mistake using Drina to watch a man like Girland, but that was Kovski’s business.

‘Of course,’ he said.

There was a long pause. Drina sipped his cooling coffee and stared at the entrance to Girland’s apartment block.

T hear Malik is in Paris,’ Lintz said, ‘and in disgrace.’

‘Yes.’ Drina’s little eyes surveyed the cafe’s terrace. There was no one within hearing distance. ‘A wonderful man… the best.’

‘Yes. It can happen to any of us.’

‘Girland tricked him.’

‘So I heard. How long do you think Malik will remain out of the field?’

Drina hesitated. Again he assured himself no one was listening.

‘ Kovski hates him.’

‘Of the two men,’ Lintz said softly, I prefer Malik.’

This was too dangerous, Drina thought. He merely shrugged his fat shoulders. He loathed Kovski and was terrified of him. Kovski, to his thinking, was the jackal to Malik’s lion.

‘Perhaps we had better not discuss this, Max,’ he said uneasily. ‘Nothing good ever conies of discussing personalities.’

‘That’s true.’

The two men remained sitting on the terrace in silence until they saw Dorey appear and walk towards his parked Jaguar.

‘There’s my man,’ Lintz said. T leave you to pay the bill. Good luck… and be careful’ He got to his feet and crossed to where he had left his shabby Renault 4, climbed to and drove after the Jaguar.

Drina watched him disappear, then putting three francs on the table, he lit a Gauloise and continued his wait. He was nervous. Lintz was right. Girland was a professional. He would have liked Lintz to have taken care of Girland, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. Now, thinking that in a little while, he would have to follow this man wherever he went and remain out of sight brought him out into a cold sweat. Suppose he lost him? Suppose Girland spotted him? He licked his dry lips, trying to assure himself that for the past fifteen years he had followed susoects and had always been successful.

He was so unnerved he could no longer sit at the table. He got up, waved to the waiter, indicating he had left payment and walked across the narrow street to where he had parked his Deux Chevaux. He got in and waited.

Ten minutes later, he saw Girland come from his apartment block and saunter down the street. Girland was wearing a short leather coat over his sweater and hipsters. He was smoking, his hand thrust into his coat pocket.

Drina started his car. He watched Girland cross the road and tuck himself into a shabby, beaten-up* Fiat 600. Drina followed the Fiat into the mass of traffic, struggling along Rue Raymond Losserand and finally into Avenue du Maine.

Here, Girland turned left. Allowing two cars to be between Girland and himself, Drina kept after the Fiat. At Rue de Vaugirard, Girland turned right and drove a few metres down the traffic-packed road before edging his car into a courtyard.

Forced to continue on down the street by the traffic behind him, Drina had just time to see Girland get out of his car before he lost sight of him. Cursing, he drove on, turned off into a side street and was lucky to find a car pulling away from the kerb. He edged the Deux Chevaux into the space. Snapping off the engine and without waiting to lock the car door, he ran back to the courtyard.

The Fiat was still there, but Girland had disappeared. Drina looked around. There were several doorways leading into the courtyard building that stood in a half square. A brass plate on one of the doors caught his eye.

Remembering the movie projector, Drina decided that Girland was paying Benny Slade a visit. He now wished Lintz had taken this assignment. When Girland eventually came out of this building, he would drive away. Drina would have to run down the street, get in his car, and by the time he had got back to Rue de Vaugirard, he would have lost Girland.

He hesitated for a long moment, then decided he had to have help.

He walked to the entrance of the courtyard, spotted a cafe further up the road and ran to it.

A few minutes later, he was once more talking to Kovski.

He had known Benny Slade for some years. Benny was an enormously fat, jovial homosexual with a brilliant flair for photography. He ran a very special and lucrative business supplying the luxury hotels where the Americans were to be found with coloured slides and 8 mm colour films of The Girls of Paris. There was nothing pornographic about his work: every shot was artistic, but somehow managed to be titillating. His slides and films had a very brisk sale. Most of the American tourists bought them to show their neighbours back home just what they were missing.

Benny was onto a good thing and he knew it. He kept clear of any smut. He was the Playboy of Paris, and he prospered.

The door was opened by a fair, beautiful looking youth clad in skin tight trousers and a white shirt worn outside the trousers. He gave Girland a coy little smile and lifted carefully plucked eyebrows as he asked, ‘Yes, monsieur?’

‘Is Benny hatching an egg?’ Girland asked.

The eyebrows went up and then down.

‘Mr Slade is shooting.’

‘When isn’t he? Okay, I’ll wait.’ Girland moved forward, driving the youth into a long corridor lit by rose-pink lamps held in golden hands fixed to the wall. Everything about Benny’s studio was artistic. Girland thought it was terrible.

The youth shut the door.

‘Who shall I say, monsieur?’

‘Girland… he knows me.’

The youth led the way down the corridor and opened a door.

‘Will you wait in here, please, monsieur?’

Girland walked into a glossily furnished room with chairs along the walls, a table in the centre littered with the latest magazines, several of Benny’s masterpieces of nude girls enormously blown-up, hanging in gilt frames on the wall.

As the youth closed the door, Girland became aware of a girl sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room, a cigarette in her slim fingers, leafing through a copy of Elle.

She glanced up and looked Girland over as he was looking her over. Quite a doll, he thought.

The girl was possibly twenty-three or four years of age. She had long silky blonde hair that reached below her shoulders and concealed most of her face. Her eyes were large and the colour of first grade sapphires. Her mouth was made for kissing. Girland eyed her legs: long and slim, the way he liked them. She was wearing a white silk wrap that hung open revealing the swell of her breasts. She seemed to be wearing nothing under the wrap although Girland couldn’t be sure about this. She pulled the wrap close to her when she saw Girland was staring.

He gave her his most charming smile.

‘Like waiting at the dentist, isn’t it? Are you modelling for Benny?’

‘That’s right.’ He could see by the sudden interest in her eyes that he appealed to her. ‘Are you?’

‘Me?’ Girland laughed and sat down two chairs away from her. ‘Benny wouldn’t want to shoot me. I’m just paying a social call. I’m Mark Girland.’

‘I’m Vi Martin.’

Again they regarded each other. This was a girl, Girland told himself, who could be exciting in bed.

‘Do you do much work for Benny? he asked. She grimaced.

‘About once a month. The competition is fierce. Every little cow with good legs and tits comes rushing here. They’ll even be shot for nothing.’

‘That’s tough. What else do you do beside work for Benny?’

‘Oh, I model clothes.’ She was vague enough for Girland to guess this wasn’t strictly the truth. ‘What do you do?’

I live off the fat of the land,’ Girland said airily. I don’t believe in work. It’s against my principles.’

‘It’s against mine too, but I have to eat.’

‘A doll with your looks shouldn’t have to worry.’

She smiled.

I didn’t say I worried. Do you mean you don’t do any work?’

‘Not if I can avoid it’

‘And you live off the fat of the land?’ She let the wrap slip a little and Girland had a glimpse of firm, well-rounded thighs before the wrap was whipped into place.

I get by. Perhaps one of these evenings we could get together over a dinner and I’ll tell you about it… that is if you are interested.’

She regarded him, then nodded.

I could be. I’ve always wanted to live off the fat of the land and not do any work.’

‘This sounds as if we have a lot in common. Do you know Chez Garin restaurant?’

Her sapphire coloured eyes opened wide.

‘I’ve heard of it… isn’t it terribly expensive?’

Girland shrugged.

‘So-so. The food’s good. Perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tonight at nine? We could meet there.’

She stared at him, then her face hardened.

I hate being kidded so you can skip the routine.’

‘Listen, cherie, I don’t kid beautiful dolls,’ Girland said quietly. ‘When I invite a doll like you to dinner, she stays invited.’

‘A girl can get stood up,’ Vi said bitterly. ‘I’d look wet, wouldn’t I, if I turned up at that restaurant, and you weren’t there to take care of the check.’

‘Okay… if you’re that suspicious… I’ll pick you up. Where do you live, unbeliever?’

She relaxed and laughed.

‘I’ll believe you. Nine o’clock then at Chez Garin.’ She leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling. ‘Do you have abstract paintings to show me after dinner?’

‘Nothing like that,’ Girland said, meeting her look. ‘But I do have a beautiful Bukhara rug.’

‘I’ve never been asked to do it on the floor before.’

‘You haven’t? It’s the rage this season. You don’t know what you’re missing.’

The door burst open and what appeared to be an elephant stamped into the room. This was Benny Slade’s normal entrance. In spite of his 280 lbs., he moved always with a quick rushing charge, surprisingly light on his small feet.

Before Girland could avoid the rush, he was engulfed in enormous fat arms and hugged to breasts that felt like plastic balloons, beaten on the back with hands that felt like pads of dough, then pushed back while Benny beamed on him, his enormous, jovial fat face joyful and delighted.

‘Mark, my duckie darling! I’m so pleased! Imagine coming here! Only last night, I was dreaming of you and now… here you are!’

‘Throttle back, Benny,’ Girland said, escaping from the embrace. ‘You’re giving me a bad reputation. We have a lady present’

Benny giggled.

‘So like you, pussy-cat.’ He beamed at Vi. ‘Hello, baby. This is my very good, nice boy-friend, Mark Girland. He’s quite the loveliest man!He…’

‘Benny! Wrap it up!’ Girland said sharply. ‘We’ve already met. We know each other. Don’t be so goddamn exuberant.’

Benny’s fat face fell. ‘Have I said anything wrong?’

‘Not yet… but you are showing signs. Miss Martin is waiting to be shot.’

Benny made a motion of dramatic despair. Not now, sweetie,’ he said, turning to Vi. ‘I’m sorry… I’m devastated, but I must talk to Mark. You see Alec. Tell him to arrange everything. You know… he’ll give you you-know-what. Then come back the same time tomorrow, huh? I must talk to Mark.’

Vi’s expression could have frozen an ice cube.

‘You mean that little rat will pay me for just sitting here?’ she demanded, getting to her feet T bet he won’t’

‘Now, lovie, don’t talk that way.-You know Alec loves you as I love you.’

‘Like a mongoose loves a snake.’

Benny spluttered into giggles.

‘What a darling! Now, listen, lovie, I’ll talk to Alec. You pop your clothes on and I’ll see Alec pays you.’ He wrapped a fat arm around Girland’s shoulders and led him to the door.

Girland looked back at Vi who smiled at him.

‘Operation Bukhara at nine o’clock,’ he said.

She nodded as Benny half-led, half-dragged Girland out into the corridor.

‘Mark! You’re not planning to do anything naughty with that girl, are you?’ Benny asked as he propelled Girland by sheer weight down the corridor.

‘Why not?’

‘She has a bad boy-friend.’ Benny led Girland into his private office. ‘He sticks knives into people.

‘So do I.’

Girland paused to absorb the room which made him blink.

Benny had lavished a lot of care and money in making this room something very special. The big desk had a top of gleaming copper. The lounging chairs were covered in zebra skins. Ornate orchards, growing behind glass made up the walls. The lighting bathed this big movie set of a room in soft pink.

‘Phew!’ Girland exclaimed, looking around. ‘You’re doing yourself well, aren’t you?’

‘Do you like it?’ Benny gave a laugh that sounded like a child with whooping cough. ‘It took me weeks, darling…honestly. It nearly drove me out of my little mind. But do you really and honestly like it?’

I think it stinks,’ Girland said, sinking into a zebra-covered chair.

‘Do you… do you really? I am so glad. I think it does too, but how it throws my clients! They just pee in their pants when they come in here.’

‘Look, Benny, I’m in a hurry. I want your help.’

Benny’s face lost its foolish animation. His eyes became alert. He no longer looked soft and stupid.

‘My help? Well, of course. Anything for you, sweetheart.’

Some months ago, Girland had fixed a blackmailer who was putting the bite on Benny. He had to get very tough with the boy, but he finally fixed him. Had he not succeeded, Benny would have been out of business: the bite had been a big one. From that moment, Benny was Girland’s slave.

‘I’ ll do anything for you, baby,’ Benny went on.’ Ask and you will receive.’

I want you to look at a film. I’m hoping you will know who shot it, where it was shot and who the man is in the film.

This is blackmail again, and urgent.’

‘Let me see it. Come into the studio.’

‘This is Top Secret, Benny. I wouldn’t show you this film if I wasn’t sure you won’t talk about it.’

‘That’s okay, sweetie. I once relied on you. You can rely on me.’

His fat face serious now, Benny led the way into the big studio with its screens, lights, photographic equipment and a king-sized bed mounted on a golden dais on which most of the girls were photographed.

The blond youth who had let Girland in was busy loading film into a camera.

‘Run along, Alec, my pet,’Benny said.’Give Vi some money. She’s dressing.’

‘But she hasn’t done any work,’ Alec said scowling.

‘Never mind… we must never be mean… just give her something. She’ll be back tomorrow.’

Alec shrugged and left the studio. Benny shot the bolt on the door.

‘We’re quite alone now,’ he said. ‘Let’s see the film.’ This was not strictly accurate for Vi Martin had come quietly into the studio to collect her handbag. Alec hadn’t seen her, and hearing Benny and Girland coming down the passage, she had stepped behind one of the big screens. Girland intrigued her. She was curious to know what his business was with Benny.

Girland handed over the 8 mm film. Benny threaded it onto a projector. He cut the lights and threw the picture on a beaded screen.

The two men stood side by side watching the film. Vi took a chance and peered out from behind her screen. She had only a brief glimpse of what was going on in the film before she ducked back again.

When the film was finished and Benny had put on the lights, he said, ‘Who’s the girl? I know most of them who work in this racket, but she’s new to me.’

‘Never mind about her.’ Girland sat on a nearby table and swung his legs. ‘She doesn’t interest me. Any idea who shot the film?’

Benny scratched his ear as he thought.

‘There are six boys in Paris making these films.’ He perched himself on a stool and regarded Girland. ‘There’s big money in this rackets but it’s dicey. You never know when you’re going to get the flics on your collar, but these boys are ready to take chances so long as they collect. Now take that film we’ve just seen. At a rough guess, it’s . worth thirty thousand dollars. The way this racket works is these boys make the film, run off copies, smuggle them into England and America where they sell around a hundred dollars a spool… sometimes more. We have a big market here, of course. Each boy has his own particular camera technique. I would say Pierre Rosnold shot that film. I can’t swear to it, but the lighting and the camera angles have Rosnold’s touch.’

‘Where do I find him?’

‘He has a studio on Rue Garibaldi. His front cover is high-class studio portraits for movie stars and society people… you know the drag, but his folding money comes from blue films.’

‘Do you know him?’

Benny’s fat face wrinkled in disgust.

I wouldn’t be seen with him in the same toilet. I loathe the beast.’

‘And the man in the film?’

‘That’s a problem with that hood. Rosnold has a permanent stallion for these movies: Jack Dodge… he’s an American.

I’ve never met him, but I hear he always wears a hood on these films because he doesn’t want to be recognised. He works at Sammy’s Bar where simply hordes of ghastly American tourists go.’ Benny shifted his enormous buttocks on the stool. ‘The girl interests me. She’s an amateur of course, but she has great technique. She could be making herself nice money… and I mean nice.’

‘I’m not interested in her,’ Girland said. ‘There are three other films, Benny. I’ve got to find them. It looks as if I’ll have to call on Rosnold and twist his arm a little.’

Benny’s small eyes widened.

‘Be careful, darling. He’s atoughie.’

Girland slid off the table.

‘So am I.’ He grinned at Benny. ‘Well, thanks. I’ll go talk to Rosnold.’

Benny rewound the film and gave it to Girland.

‘Anything else I can do, give me a call.’

They walked together to the door and Benny slid back the bolt.

As they moved out into the corridor, Vi Martin came from behind the screen. She ran silently across the studio to the dressing-room and began hurriedly to dress.

With sweat running down his face, Drina kept looking at his watch. Kovski had promised to rush a man down to where he was waiting, but up to now the man hadn’t arrived.

What was he to do if the man didn’t arrive and Girland appeared and drove off in his car? He would be held responsible for losing Girland! He knew Kovski was already displeased with his work. He could get into serious trouble.

He took off his shabby hat and wiped the sweat off his balding head. He moved from one foot to the other. His heart hammered and his mouth was dry.

Then he saw Girland come out of the building.

Drina was unprepared. He shouldn’t have been standing in the entrance to the courtyard. He should have concealed himself in one of the many doorways leading into the big apartment block. It was too late now. He lost his head and turned quickly, walking into the street.

Had he not moved so quickly, Girland wouldn’t have noticed him, but that panicky movement alerted Girland. He saw the short, fat man wearing a greasy fur hat dart into the street and Girland’s eyes narrowed.

He had decided, as he had descended the stairs from Benny’s studio, that as Rosnold’s studio was close by, he would walk rather than chance finding parking space. So he sauntered out of the courtyard and almost cannoned into Drina who wasn’t sure whether to dart to the right or left.

The two men looked at each other.

Girland too had a photographic memory. He placed Drina immediately: a washed-up, hack Soviet agent of the Security police. ‘Pardon,’ Girland said, moved around Drina and set off with his long strides towards Boulevard Pasteur.

Hardly believing his luck, Drina went after him. He had to half-run to keep up with Girland’s swinging strides and sweat ran down his face as he bounced along, dodging people on the sidewalk, but keeping Girland in sight.

Girland was thinking: is this a coincidence? I don’t think so. Have the Russians got onto Sherman?

He reached Boulevard Pasteur and stopped at a busy bistro. It was lunch time and he decided to have lunch. He entered the Bistro and took a vacant table at the far end of the big room.

Drina saw him enter the bistro and hesitated. He too was hungry. He again hesitated, then sat at one of the outside tables where he could watch the exit.

From his table, Girland could see the outside terrace and he watched Drina take a seat at a table.

When the waiter came, Girland ordered a steak and a lager. Drina, outside, ordered a ham roll and a vodka.

Drina had placed himself in a bad position. He could watch the exit from the bistro, but he couldn’t see Girland. Aware of this, Girland got to his feet and went to a telephone kiosk. He called Dorey.

When the connection was made, Girland said, ‘I think our Soviet friends have become interested in our movie. I have Drina on my tail.’ Dorey knew Drina as he knew every Soviet agent operating in Paris.

‘ You have the film on you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Where are you?’

Girland told him.

‘I’ll send two men down to cover you. Stay where you are.’

‘Hitch up your suspenders!’ Girland said impatiently. ‘I can handle this. Wake up! You can’t send two of your jerks down here to cover me unless you make this official.’

Dorey swallowed this, knowing Girland was right.

‘But if they jump you and get that film…!’

‘They won’t get it. Stop laying an egg! I’ll lose this fat slob and I’ll call you later. I just thought I’d increase your blood pressure,’ and Girland hung up.

When he returned to his table, his steak was placed before him. It looked very good. He made a leisurely lunch, paid the bill, then wandered out onto the busy boulevard.

Drina gave him a few metres start, then went after him. Girland wandered along, taking his time. Satisfied now that Girland hadn’t spotted him, Drina loafed along in the rear.

Girland was an expert at losing a tail. When he came upon a crowd of people staring at a TV programme showing in a radio shop window, he stepped around them swiftly and into a doorway. The movement was so quick Drina didn’t see it.

Suddenly Girland had vanished. Drina paused, people pushing by him. In a panic, Drina rushed past the doorway in which Girland was standing to the cross-roads. He looked frantically to right and left.

Watching the panic-stricken face of the fat agent, Girland grinned.