1967 - Have This One on Me (8 page)

* * *

Three men sat around a table in a large airless room of the Ministry of the Interior. In this vast building, built like a fortress, the Prague Secret Police had their headquarters.

Suk, second in charge of the Secret Police, was staring at a large-scale street map of the City, spread out on the table.

There was a strip of plaster on his baldhead, covering the cut and the bruise from Worthington’s attack. A throbbing headache still tormented him.

Opposite him, Malik sat like a massive Sphinx, his cold green eyes moving from Suk to the map and then back to Suk. The third man was Boris Smernoff, thickset with a dark, cruel face and a bald patch which he tried vainly to hide by combing long thin strands of black hair over the ever expanding baldness.

He was Malik’s right hand man, an expert shot and G.R.U.’s most persistent and successful hunter of men.

‘He can’t escape,’ Suk said. ‘He must be somewhere here,’ and he tapped the street map. ‘It is only a matter of time.’

‘You don’t think time is important?’ Malik said in his clipped English, the common language between these two men. ‘It is only a matter of time? You have been negligent. Comrade. I warned you about this man. Now, he has disappeared. You say it is only a matter of time. I hope so. What steps are you taking to find him?’

Suk wiped the sweat off his forehead. Without looking at Malik, he said. ‘He can’t get out of the country. I’m sure of that. We are now making inquiries. Someone must be hiding him. We have already checked all the hotels. The airport and the frontier posts have been alerted We ...’

Malik silenced him with an impatient wave of his hand.

‘When you find him I want to talk to him . . . understand?’

‘Yes. Comrade Malik.’

‘What is more important is his replacement. They are certain to replace him. I want details of everyone coming by air, train and road. I don’t think Dorey will send in anyone just yet, but he may. Anyone slightly suspect must be doubly screened. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Comrade Malik.’

‘Well, get on with it and find Worthington.’

Suk got to his feet and left the office, closing the door softly behind him

Malik looked at Smernoff who was lighting a cigarette.

‘Well? What is it?’

Smernoff smiled, showing his tobacco-stained teeth.

‘This man Jonathan Cain.’ he said. ‘He is possibly of interest: a buyer of glass. He comes to Prague twice a month. He had lunch with Dorey four days ago. The report came through as routine from one of the waiters at Chez Joseph, a luxury Paris restaurant with private rooms. Dorey and Cain met. . . that’s for certain. Malinkov merely mentioned it in his weekly report. He said it might mean nothing. Dorey often lunches with various friends.’

‘Malinkov is a fool,’ Malik said. ‘What do you know about Cain?’

‘Very little ... he is a typical American business man. When he comes here, he frequently visits the Alhambra nightclub. There is nothing against him in any way . . . except he lunched with Dorey.’

Malik leaned back in his chair, frowning.

‘The Alhambra night club? Do you know it?’

‘I’ve been there.’ Smernoff flicked ash on the floor. ‘You can eat reasonably well there. They have small booths where you can be alone. The acts are noisy and not much, but there is a girl singer whose parents were American and Czech. The father was against the regime ... he was executed. The girl calls herself Mala Reid … she’s taken her mother’s name.’

Malik examined his blunt fingernails, then glanced up.

‘Has Cain had anything to do with her?’

‘He seems to be an admirer of hers. Several times he has given her flowers. He has never gone with her to her apartment.’

‘Flowers ...’ Malik thought, then stretched his long, massive arms. ‘Yes . . . perhaps we might take a look at this girl, Boris. Have her watched. This could be a waste of time, but at the moment, we seem to have nothing else to use except time.’ He looked up, his green eyes glittering. ‘I want to know everything about this girl ... understand?’

Smernoff got to his feet.

‘So do I,’ he said and left the room.

Malik stood up and walked over to the window. There were two pigeons on the lower balcony. The male was going through his elaborate dance of love. The female was ignoring him. Malik watched them for some moments. He felt contempt for the male pigeon. What a fool the male was when he became infatuated with the female, he thought and turned away.

He began to think about Cain ... then his mind switched to Worthington and his possible replacement. Perhaps, after all, Suk was right. In this country, it could only be a matter of time, and, of course, patience.

* * *

Worthington fingered the brown paper packet he had taken from the angel’s body.

‘You see? This is a plant,’ he said. ‘I never trusted Dorey.’

Mala made no attempt to hide her terror.

‘But why? What have I done?’

Worthington shrugged.

‘How can we tell? We must see what he has planted on you,’ and he took from his pocket a penknife.

‘We’d better not ...’

‘Of course we must, then we are prepared.’ Sitting at the table Worthington began to slide the blade of the knife carefully under the Sellotape that secured the parcel. It took him some minutes to open it. Mala stood over him, watching, her heart beating wildly.

Worthington unwrapped the paper and drew out the thick packet of one hundred dollar bills. They both stared unbelievingly at the money, then with shaking fingers, Worthington began to count the bills.

After a long tense silence, he said. ‘For God’s sake! This is a fortune! Thirty thousand dollars!’

Mala turned cold. She sat down abruptly by his side.

‘What does it mean?’

Worthington stared at the money on the table for some time, then he suddenly nodded. ‘There can only be one explanation. This isn’t a plant. Mala. This is funds for my replacement.’ His thin face darkened. ‘They never gave me money like this. I warned you ... when this man replaces me, he will contact you This is why Bruckman hid the money here. The money is to buy information.’ He sat back. ‘They have already written me off my replacement will come here and collect the money. They are using your place to finance him. They don’t give a damn about the risk to you.’

Mala drew in a shuddering breath.

‘All that money!’

‘They have no right to do this!’ Worthington went on. The sight of the hundred dollar bills fascinated him. ‘If they had consulted you . . . you could have refused or agreed, but that’s not the way they work. They do it like this ... not caring what happens to you.’ He leaned forward, tapping the dollar bills.

‘Malik might come here and find these ... then you would be done for.’

Mala also was hypnotised by the sight of so much money.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘With this money, ‘Worthington said quietly and emphatically, ‘you will have no trouble leaving Prague. You will be independent. You could come with me to Geneva. You could buy a passport ... it’s a fortune!’

Mala shifted her eyes from the money to him.

‘But it doesn’t belong to me! I couldn’t use it for myself!’

‘They haven’t thought of you ... why should you think of them? Money means nothing to them. If we take this, they will replace it. This money can buy your freedom.’

Mala hesitated, then shook her head.

‘No! Put it back ... I’m not touching it.’

Worthington regarded her, then seeing the determined expression in her eyes, he shrugged wearily.

‘All right ... you are being stupid, but if you really feel like that I can’t help you.’

She pressed her hands to her face,

‘Yes, I feel like that.’ She got to her feet. ‘Please put it back where you found it.’ She again looked at the money, then she walked slowly over to the screen. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She paused and looked directly at him. ‘All right, I know I am stupid, but I’m not a thief!’

‘When one’s life is in balance,’ Worthington said quietly, ‘I suppose it could be said it is better to be a thief than to be stupid.’

She hesitated, then went behind the sheet. Worthington heard her drop on the bed. He looked at the money. With thirty thousand dollars, plus his Swiss savings, he would be safe for life, he thought. He didn’t hesitate for more than a moment or so. Getting to his feet, he went into the kitchenette and returned with two copies of
The Morning Sun.
He folded the newspapers to the size of the hundred dollar bills. Then he put the folded newspapers into the wrapping and began to reseal the packet.

‘What are you doing?’ Mala asked, appearing from behind the screen. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

‘Not being stupid.’ Worthington satisfied himself the packet was secure, then got up and crossed to the wooden angel. He forced the packet down the hollow neck into the body. He replaced the head. ‘You can be as stupid as you like, but I know the value of money.’

‘You mean you’re taking it? You can’t! It doesn’t belong to you!’

Worthington picked up the packet of money.

‘Go to bed. You’re tired. You must leave this to me.’

‘What do you plan to do with it?’

‘It’s better for you to know nothing about it. Please go to bed.’

‘We could never smuggle it out. It’s you who is being stupid!’

Worthington looked at her, his expression resigned.

‘I am doing my best to get you out of a mess. You don’t seem to realise what a damn awful mess you are in. Dorey’s replacement mustn’t find this money here. You must not be implicated. Since you are so honest, will you please leave me to look after your interests?’

She saw the sincere, anxious expression in his eyes and the tension on his weak face.

She hesitated, then asked, ‘Where will you hide it?’

He drew in a long breath of relief. So, in spite of her honesty, she was at last realising not only her danger, but what this money could mean to them both.

‘Under the angel. We can get at it quickly if we have to. I’ll tape it to the base of the angel.’

‘All right.’ She came to him, her cold fingers touching his wrist. ‘I’m sorry Alec. I don’t mean to be difficult. I do understand how you feel about me. If you think we can do it, I will come with you to Switzerland.’

Worthington smiled wryly. It was the money, of course, he thought, not himself that now made her change her mind.

‘You must see Vlast tomorrow. Tell him you need a British passport. He’ll get you one if the money is there.’ Worthington turned the packet in his hands. ‘Have you an envelope to take this?’

‘There’s a plastic bag in the kitchen ... would that do?’

‘That would do.’

She saw the sad, disillusioned expression on his face and she felt ashamed.

‘Thank you. Alec. I can’t help it if I don’t love you. can I? I’m sorry about the way I’ve treated you I’m just scared stiff.’

Worthington smiled at her.

‘That’s all right. I’m scared stiff too. We’ll make it. Mala. Once you are in Geneva, you may see things differently. You never know ... you might even come to like me.’

While they were talking two thickset men, wearing black mackintoshes and black slouch hats took over a room that overlooked Mala’s apartment on the opposite side of the street.

An elderly woman who had lived in this room for many years was ruthlessly bundled out to stay in an old people’s home.

Smernoff had given his orders. From the moment the two men took up their positions behind the lace curtains of the window. Mala was under the G.R.U.’s microscope.

* * *

Mavis Paul, Corey’s secretary, dark, beautifully built and very assured, glanced up as O’Halloran came into her office.

‘Good morning. Captain,’ she said and gave him her bright smile she reserved for her favourites. ‘He is expecting you ... go right on in.’

O’Halloran grinned, giving her a dashing salute.

‘You look pretty good this morning,’ he said gallantly. ‘Come to think of it, when don’t you look good?’

She laughed

‘I’ve heard that story dozens of times. Anyway, thanks,’ and she flicked a finger at Dorey’s office door. ‘Right in there Captain,’ and she began to hammer away at her I.B.M. electric typewriter.

O’Halloran pulled a resigned face.

‘I’ve nothing to do tonight,’ he said. ‘How about a gorgeous dinner at Lasserre? Three stars and a sliding roof? Interest you?’

‘My roof doesn’t slide,’ she said, pausing for a brief moment.

‘No dates . . . but thanks,’ and she continued to type.

‘Well, I guess a guy can always try,’ O’Halloran said and walked over to Corey’s office door. ‘Take a raincheck on it.’

‘I will and thank you.’

But he knew she wouldn’t. He had come to realise that Mavis Paul not only took her work seriously, but also her after working hours. She just did not make dates.

He tapped on the door and entered.

As usual, Dorey was immersed in a file. He glanced up, waved to a chair and went on reading.

O’Halloran sat down and put his service cap on the floor by his side. A minute later, Dorey signed the file and pushed it out of his way. He sat back and smiled at O’Halloran.

‘Glad to see you back, Tim. Had a good trip?’

O’Halloran had been to Antwerp on a dull and unprofitable assignment. This had kept him out of Paris for the past three days.

‘Okay . . . nothing much.’ he said. ‘You’ll get my report tomorrow.’

‘Things go well this end,’ Dorey said with satisfaction. ‘I’ve had confirmation from Bruckman that Girland has arrived in Prague. Latimer is waiting to fly in. This has to be carefully timed. The moment Girland’s picked up, Latimer goes in. I have an open reservation for him so there’ll be no delay. Probably in a couple of days, Latimer will be in Prague. Girland works fast. He’ll grab the money and then try to get out. Bruckman is covering him all the time.’

‘Anyone else out there?’ O’Halloran asked. ‘It’s throwing a lot on Bruckman.’

‘He can handle it. I asked him if he wanted help, but he said no. I have a lot of confidence in him.’

O’Halloran looked dubious.