Whiff Of Money (12 page)

Sherman stared down at his hands.

'Radnitz said the same thing. He said he could arrange it. I -1 told him to go ahead ... I was worked up, but before he takes action, I wanted to talk to you... then if you agree, I have to tell him where to find her.' He stroked the back of his neck, staring out of the window. 'He knows where she is, of course. He knows everything, but if I tell him she is at the Alpenhoff Hotel at Garmisch, he will know this is my okay for him to get rid of her.'

Mary leaned forward, her eyes glittering.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' she demanded. 'We have fought and fought to come this far. Why should our ambitions and our way of life be ruined because we have been unlucky enough to have spawned this hateful, spiteful animal. Call Radnitz and tell him where she is!'

Sherman moved in his chair. His shaking hands went over his sweating face.

'She is our daughter, Mary.'

'Call him!'

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Sherman shook his head.

'No! We can't do this, Mary. We can't!'

'And the Russians? Suppose they find out about this degenerate animal? We can't allow ourselves to be blackmailed by such a creature. She must be silenced!'

Sherman made a helpless gesture.

'Suppose we wait until Girland finds her. He might just possibly talk some sense into her.' He got to his feet. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Yes...' Mary looked strangely at him. Her eyes were remote. 'The Alpenhoff Hotel, Garmisch... you said?'

'Yes.'

'And where is Radnitz?'

Sherman hesitated.

'Georges V, Paris.' He looked away from her. 'Why do you ask?'

'Go to bed, Henry,' Mary said quietly. 'You need your rest'.

Sherman hesitated again, then moved to the door. He paused and looked at her. Her cold, hard eyes fixed his.

'Go to bed, Henry,' she repeated.

Sherman left the lounge. He moved slowly like an old man moving to his bed, directed by his nurse. She listened to him mount the stairs and the slight creak of the floorboards as he moved into his bedroom.

For sometime, she sat staring out of the window, watching the sun rising, heralding a new day. Her face was stony, only the glitter in her eyes hinted at the turmoil that was going on in her mind.

Finally, she reached for the telephone. She asked the operator to connect her with Georges V hotel, Paris.

* * *

A black Thunderbird drew up under the canopy of the Georges V hotel and the doorman stepped forward to open the car door.

Lu Silk slid out.

'Park it... I won't be long,' he said curtly and walked into the lobby. He crossed to the concierge who was standing behind his desk.

'Mr Radnitz,'Silk said.

The concierge had seen Silk several times. He knew him to be a man who didn't tip and was disagreeable to the staff.

The concierge inclined his head coldly, picked up a telephone receiver, spoke briefly, then said to Silk, 'Fourth floor, monsieur, suite 457.'

Silk sneered at him.

'As if I didn't know.' He turned and walked towards the elevators.

Lu Silk (see 'Believed Violent') was Herman Radnitz's professional killer: a tall, lean man in his early forties with a hatchet-shaped face, a glass left eye and a white scar running down the side of his left cheek. His crewcut hair was white. He wore a dark flannel suit that fitted him well, and he carried a black slouch hat in his hand. He had worked for Radnitz now for some years. When Radnitz wished to get rid of anyone

troublesome, he called for Silk. For $ 15,000 as a killing fee and $30,000 as a yearly retainer whether he worked or not, Lu Silk made a satisfactory living.

He arrived on the fourth floor and rang the bell of suite 457. The door was opened by Ko-Yu, Radnitz's Japanese servant and chauffeur.

'Hi,' Silk said as he entered. 'The old man waiting for me?'

Ko-Yu regarded Silk, his face expressionless, his manner distant.

' Mr Radnitz is expecting you.'

Silk went into the big, luxuriously furnished sitting-room where Radnitz was at his desk, dictating to his secretary, Fritz Kurt, a small, thin man who glanced up as Silk came in.

Radnitz broke off his dictation and waved Kurt away. There was a moment's pause while Kurt left the room, then Radnitz said, T have work for you.'

"That's easy to guess.' Silk was in awe of no man, and he never showed any respect when talking to Radnitz. He was the only member of Radnitz's staff who wasn't a 'Yes-man'. He sat down and crossed one leg over the other. 'Who is it this time?'

'You are ready to travel immediately?'

'Of course. I always keep a bag in the car. Where to?'

'Munich.' Radnitz opened a brief-case and took from it a bulky envelope. 'Here are your instructions with your ticket and travellers cheques. You are to get rid of two people. A girl: Gillian Sherman. A man: Pierre Rosnold. There is a photograph of the girl here, but I have no photograph of the man, but they will be together. This is important, Silk. You will receive thirty thousand dollars when I know they have been eliminated.'

Silk got up, crossed to the desk and took the envelope Radnitz was offering him. He returned to his chair, sat down and removed the contents of the envelope. He paused to study the photograph of Gillian Sherman. Her beauty had no effect on him. For more years than he could remember, Silk had lost interest in women. He read through two typewritten pages of instructions, then he looked up.

'I don't hit them until these films are recovered? How do I know when they are recovered?'

'This man Girland will get them. He will be constantly watched You don't have to worry about that. Your job is to get rid of these two when you are told to go ahead.'.

'How do you want this arranged?'

Radnitz selected a cigar from a cedar, gold-topped box.

'An accident. . . perhaps a hunting accident?'

'The two of them?' Silk shook his head. 'No... one of them could be shot by mistake, but not two of them. The German police aren't stupid.'

Radnitz shrugged impatiently. Small details always bored him.

'I leave it to you. I have a place near Oberammergau. I have a good man there and I have already alerted him. He will do everything that is necessary. His name is Count Hans von Goltz. You will be met at the Munich airport and taken to my place. By that time, von Goltz will have information for you. You need take no weapons. There is everything you may need at my place. I have some thirty good men who look after the estate. You can use them if you want them.'

Silk put the envelope in his pocket and got to his feet.

'I'd better get off if I'm to catch the 14.00 hr. plane.'

'Be careful of Girland,' Radnitz warned. 'He is dangerous.'

Silk showed his even white teeth in a vicious smile.

'I'll watch it,' he said and left the suite

Because Mary Sherman had forgotten to tell Radnitz that now the Russians were also involved in this hunt for the daughter of the future President, Silk left the Georges V hotel thinking he had only Girland to deal with. Had he known that he was to come up against not only Girland, but Malik as well, he would have been less confident he was on to easy money as he drove his Thunder bird towards Orly airport.

* * *

Feeling slightly jaded, Girland passed through the Customs barrier at the Munich airport and made his way across the big hall to the Hertz Rental car service. Seeing where he was going, Labrey who had been following him, paused. He had little money to spare. There was no question of his hiring a car. His Soviet masters were tight with money. He watched Girland as he talked to the girl clerk.

Girland showed his Hertz Credit Card and told the girl, a pretty blonde, he wanted a Mercedes 230.

'Yes, sir,' the girl said. 'How long will you need it, do you think?'

I don't know.' Girland found the girl attractive. 'It depends on how much I like your country. If it's as lovely as you are, I might spend the rest of my days here.'

The girl giggled and blushed.

'Shall we say... a week?'

'Leave it open ... I don't know.' Girland leaned on the counter while she completed the form, then he signed it.

'I'll get the car for you, sir.' She used the telephone and then hung up. 'In five minutes, sir.' She looked adoringly at him as she smiled. 'The exit door is to your right.'

'Thank you.'

They exchanged glances, then feeling considerably revitalised, Girland left the airport and stood waiting in the pale sunshine for the car to arrive.

'Excuse me, sir,' a voice said at his side. 'Would you be going to Garmisch?'

Girland turned. Standing by his side was a talLthin young man with long blond hair and wearing green tinted sunglasses. He had a rucksack on his back.

'Sure,' Girland said. 'Do you want a lift?'

T was hoping for one,' Labrey said, 'but I don't want to push myself onto you.'

At this moment a black Mercedes pulled up beside them. The white coated driver got out and saluted Girland.

'You understand the car, sir?'

'Oh, sure.' Girland tossed his suitcase onto the back seat. He tipped the man, then turning to Labrey, he went on, 'Hop in.'

Labrey slid into the passenger's seat. He put the rucksack down between his feet.

Girland got under the driving wheel and set the car in motion.

Labrey said, 'Thank you very much, sir.' The conversation from the beginning had been in French. 'You're an American, aren't you?'

'That's right.'

'You look American, but your French is perfect.'

I guess I get by. Where are you from?' Girland asked as he headed the car fast along the highway towards Munich.

'I'm from Paris. I'm on vacation. I plan to walk through the Isar valley to Bad Tolz,' Labrey said. He had spent his time profitably while in the aircraft, reading a guide book of Germany which he had bought at Orly airport.

'Fine walking country,' Girland said.

Labrey looked shiftily at him.

'Are you on vacation or on business, sir?'

'A bit of both. You're walking from Garmisch?'

'Yes, but I will stay in Garmisch for a few days if I can find a cheap hotel.'

'You won't have any trouble about that. There are plenty of good, cheap hotels to choose from.' Girland spoke from experience as he often came to Garmisch for the winter sports.

Having been warned by Malik about Girland, Labrey decided not to ask any further questions. It was truly a bit of luck to be riding with this ex-CIA agent who obviously was quite unsuspecting. Labrey was pleased with himself.

The conversation got around to Paris and the night clubs. Labrey could tell Girland of two or three he didn't know and Girland could tell Labrey of a dozen and more he didn't know. Chatting this way, they reached Munich and Girland who knew the route, took the outer-ring road and got onto E.6 highway that led directly to Garmisch, under 100 kilometres from Munich. Once on this highway, Girland increased speed and within a little over an hour and a half, he drove into Gannisch's crowded, narrow main street.

Pulling up by the square, he said, 'You'll find three or four hotels over there to the left.'

'Are you going to one of them?' Labrey asked as he opened the car door.

'My hotel's further down the road.' Girland offered his hand. 'Have a good vacation.'

'Thanks for the ride, sir.'

Girland nodded, started the car moving and drove on to the Alpenhoff Hotel. Labrey half ran, half walked after the Mercedes which was moving slowly as the traffic was heavy. He saw Girland swing the car into the driveway of the hotel, then satisfied he knew where Girland was staying, he went in search of a cheap hotel for himself.

As Girlaind walked into the softly lit hotel lobby, a short, chunky man, wearing a canary coloured polo neck sweater and white slacks paused to let him pass. Behind him was a girl who Girland immediately recognised as Gillian Sherman from the movie he had seen. He was sure he wasn't mistaken. She was slightly above average height. Her bronze-coloured hair was cut in the shape of a helmet which suited her attractive, sun-tanned face. She had on a white square-necked sweater and black stretch-pants, revealing her sensual figure.

Girland immediately stopped and stood aside to let her pass. She favoured him with a long, searching stare and then a smile, saying, 'Merci, monsieur.'

'Come on, Gilly, for God's sake!' the man said in French. 'We're late already.'

They crossed to where a scarlet T.R.4 was parked, got in, and with a violent roar from the exhaust, the chunky man whipped the car dangerously fast into the main street and drove away out of sight at speed.

Girland approached the reception desk, setting down his suitcase.

'Mr Girland booking in,' he said to the clerk. 'WasthatMrRosnold who just left? I believe I recognised him.'

'That is correct, sir.'

'He's not checking out?'

'Oh, no, sir. He is with us for another week.'

Satisfied, Girland completed the usual form, went up to his room, unpacked his bag and changed into a sweat shirt and hipsters. As the time was only after 11.00 hrs., he decided to take a look at the country since he guessed Rosnold and Gillian could be out for the day.

As he left his room, an elderly chambermaid came along the corridor. Girland smiled, asking in his fluent German, 'Is Mr Rosnold on this floor, do you know?'

'He's right there,' the woman said, returning Girland's smile. She pointed to a door exactly opposite Girland's room. 'But he's out now'.

Girland thanked her and went on his way. He felt he had begun the assignment not only with a lot of luck, but well.

As he drove from the hotel, Labrey, sitting at a cafe near the hotel watched him leave. There was nothing Labrey could do about this. He would have to wait until Malik arrived, but at least, he knew where Girland was staying. The next move was to find out why he had come to Garmisch.

Girland returned to the hotel for lunch having driven as far as Wies where he visited what is considered by connoisseurs to be the most beautiful rococo church in Germany. Girland was not an admirer of this form of art, and after taking a hasty look around the massive, ornate interior, he decided to drive back slowly, savouring the magnificent scenery, the hills, the forests and the green of the rich spring meadows.