Julie. My guess is that Annemarie volunteered that information about
herself as a sop to the Annecys, to turn their minds to the thought of
unlimited ransom money – maybe she even mentioned her father’s influence
with the government although people like the Annecys would almost
certainly have been aware of that anyway – anything to distract attention
from Julie. Annemarie’s no fool – if she were, I wouldn’t have brought her
up from Rotterdam. She knows that the Annecys of this world are above all
pragmatists and that anything that would further their plans would be of
a great deal more interest to them than hurting me by proxy.’
‘Cold-blooded fish,’ de Graaf muttered.
‘Pardon, sir?’
‘You could be right or you could be wrong. Damage both ways. If you’re
right the Annecys’ hands have been greatly strengthened and David
Mcijer’s pocket almost certainly lightened, or will be in the very near
future. If you’re wrong, you’re putting your head in that charming
hangman’s noose that the Annecy brothers put on their postcards. If
you’re wrong she’d have talked of” many th ings, principally that Stephan
Danilov is Peter van Effen. I can’t take the chance that you’re not
wrong. My orders are that you are not to go through with this.’
George said: ‘Normally, Colonel, I wouldn’t dream of not complying with
your wishes. But these aren’t normal circumstances. By refusing your
request, I’m not stepping outside the law nor ain I making the point that
I’m no longer a policeman. I’m just going my own way.’
De Graaf nodded. ‘I can’t stopyou. But I can
‘You can force him to go his own way, too,’George said. ‘By resigning.
You’d never forgive yourself, Colonel.’
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De Graaf scowled, refilled his glass, sank into an armchair and gazed into
the fire. Van Effen nodded to Vasco and the three men left the room.
Van Effen and George returned to the Trianon to find that the usual
watch-dog was not in his usual place. But there was another and, if
possible, even more insignificant character seated some distance from the
desk and sipping beer instead of jonge jenever. Van Effen had no doubt that
this was a replacement from the same stable. The manager called to them as
they passed the desk.
‘This message has just come for you, Mr Danilov.’ He handed van Effen a
slip of paper which read: ‘May I see you in your room? Two minutes.’
‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’Van Effen folded the paper into his pocket and
led George to the lift. The promised two minutes later the manager arrived
in van Effen’s room. He closed the door behind him, looked doubtfully at
George and seemed to hesitate.
‘No problem,’ van Effen said. ‘My friend here is on the side of the angels.
George, Charles. The manager. Charles, George. George is police.’
‘Ah. A word of warning, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t use the back entrance
tonight – somebody, a stranger to anyone round here -has taken up more or
less permanent residence by the back door. He’s in an old DAF. And you will
have noticed that your old looker-after in the lobby has been replaced by
an even more obvious one. There’s another man who has just started a meal
in the dining-room. He’s seated conveniently by the door so that he can see
anyone who crosses the lobby. He knows the new shadow. No words exchanged,
just a brief look and an even briefer nod. No risk in that, they must have
thought – they have no reason to suspect my interest in them. That’s why I
waited two minutes, to see if either of them made a move. No disappointment
– our dining-room friend was at the public phone almost before the lift
doors closed behind you. I waited until he finished his call to whatever
person he was reporting
178
your arrival. I was watching them from the mirror as the diner left the
booth. Brief nod again, no words.’
‘When you go bankrupt, Charles, apply to me any time. I’ll watch the
bogeymen.’ The manager left.
‘So,’ George said. ‘We can expect that phone call any minute now. The man
in ‘the restaurant has tipped off Agnelli that Stephan Danilov has returned
accompanied by George, the explosives expert and illegal arms supplier. One
wonders what lions’ den or nest of cobras they’ve chosen for the
rendezvous.’
‘I don’t wonder. There are no lions or cobras in ROOM 203, which is where
we are. Charles tells us that Agnelli – it can only be Agnelli – has two
other faithful but not very bright henchmen lurking around the place. Why?
Surely it only required one stake-out, the one in the lobby, to advise him
of our arrival. The other two are guards, parts of his insurance policy –
don’t forget Agnelli has no reason to think that we know of their presence.
There may even be others that Charles knows nothing about. This is the last
place that we would think would be chosen as a meeting point – or so
Agnelli must imagine – and so we wouldn’t think of arranging a reception
committee here. And when he does call, you can be sure that he will
announce that he will be here in a matter of minutes so that we can’t have
the time to arrange one.’
Van Effien was right on both points. Agnelli called in person ta say that
they would meet at the Trianon and that he and his friends would be there
in under five minutes.
‘He’s bringing friends, plural,’ van Effen -said after he had hung up. ‘I
don’t think Romero Agnelli trusts anyone.’
From the cordial, guileless expression Agnelli wore on his arrival, one
could see that van Effen was wrong; here, patently, was a man one could
trust anywhere. Agnelli had brought three men along with him. His brother
Leonardo, looking, if that were possible, an even more genial member of the
Mafioso than he had done the last time, and two others whom van Effen had
never seen before. One of them, a burly, slightly florid, pleasant-featured
character of indeterminate age – somewhere between forty and fifty, van
Effen would have guessed, but it
179
was difficult to be sure – was introduced as Liam O’Brien: from his accent,
no less than from his name, he had to be Irish. The other, a handsome young
man, dark and slightly swarthy, was introduced as Heinrich Daniken: he could
have been of any nationality. Agnelli did not see fit to disclose what the
function of either man was.
Introductions over, refreshments proffered and accepted, Agnelli said to
George: ‘Do I call you George or do you have another name?’
‘Just George.’ He smiled. ‘I’m an anonymous person.’
Agnelli surveyed the vast bulk before him. ‘You, George, are the least
anonymous-looking person I’ve ever seen. Don’t you find it rather a
drawback in your profession? Whatever that may be, of course.’
‘Drawback? It’s a positive advantage. I’m a peace-loving who abhors
violence but when you’re as big as I am no one ever offers it to you.’
George, van Effen thought admiringly, was as consummate and convincing a
liar as he’d ever known. ‘And, of course, everybody, or nearly everybody –
I think particularly of those who are sworn to uphold the law – think that
everyone who is as big, fat, cheerful and harmless as I am, must be able to
get by very well without being able to think. It’s a kind of law of nature.
Well, I’m no Einstein, but I’m not yet ready to be locked away in;in
institution for the retarded. But we haven’t met here to discuss
personalities, Mr Agnelli, have we? Five questions. What do you want? How
much or how many? When? Where? Price?’
The slipping of Agnelli’s good-humoured smile was so momentary that only
the most alert or observant would have noticed it and even then it could
have been as much imagined as seen. ‘You do get to the point rather
quickly, don’t you, George? No time for the little business niceties, I
see. Well, that’s the way I prefer it myself. Like you, I have no time for
beating about the bush: like you, I regard myself as a business man.’ He
produced a paper from an inside pocket. ‘Here’s my shopping list. Fairly
comprehensive, is it not?’
George studied it briefly. ‘Fairly. Well within my limited capacities, I
should think. Most of the items are straight-
180
forward, especially the explosives. The ground-to-ground wireguided missiles
– these will be anti-tank missiles, although you don’t say so – and the sAm
ground-to-air missiles are also easily come by, as are the plastic mines,
grenades and smoke-bombs.’ He.paused, sipped some brandy and frowned.
‘Something here I don’t quite understand, don’t even like. I’m not talking
about the fact that you seem to be preparing to wage a Wnited war, even
although only a defensive one: that’s none of my business.’ He handed the