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FLOODGATE by ALISTAIR MACLEAN

list over to van Effen. ‘Comment?’

Van Effen studied it for no longer a time than it had taken George then

returned the list. ‘Specifications.’

‘Exactly.’George, not smiling, looked at the four men in turn then

concentrated his gaze on Agnelli. ‘This is a lethal enough list as it is.

But it could be dangerous in other ways, even suicidal, if it got. into the

hands of whoever prepared this list.’

Agnelli wasn’t smiling either. He looked more than slightly uncomfortable.

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

‘Then I’d better enlighten you. Specifications, as my friend Stephan has

said. Explosives – no specifications. Missiles, ditto – and that applies to

both types. What kind of primers? What kind of detonators? Fuses – you

don’t even say whether wire or chemical, how slow-burning or fast-acting.

No explosives expert ever composed this list. Some amateur did, some

bungling incompetent. Who?’

Agnelli studied his glass for some time then said: ‘I’m the incompetent.

But I did get some bungling help from my three associates here.’

‘God help us all,’ van Effen said. ‘You’re not fit to be let loose with a

box of kiddies’ fireworks. I have to ask you, not for the first time, where

the hell are your experts?’

Agnelli smiled ruefully and spread out his hands. ‘I’ll be perfectly frank

with you.’ Romero Agnelli, van Effen realized, was about to lie in his

teeth. ‘We are temporarily embarrassed. The two men on whom we rely have

been called away for other duties and won’t be back for a couple of days.

But we thought -well, you gentlemen are both explosives experts and -‘

‘That’s no problem,’ George said. ‘We know what to get and

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can give you simple instructions on how to use them without blowing your

silly heads off. The missiles are a different matter. Only a trained man can

fire one of those.’

‘How long does that take?’

‘A week. Ten days.’ George was vastly exaggerating, van Effen knew, but the

four men’s patent ignorance of all things military was so extensive that it

was very likely a safe exaggeration. ‘And don’t ask us, we’re no military

men, we’re no more skilled in those matters than you are.’

Agnelli was silcnt for some time then said abruptly: ‘Do you know of anyone

who is. Skilled in such matters, I mean?’

‘Do you mean what I think you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘I do.’ The way George said ‘I do’, in a tone just one degree short of

impatience, made it clear that it was quite inevitable that he should know.

‘Who?’

George gave him a look of pity. ‘He hasn’t got a name.’

‘You must call him something.’

‘The Lieutenant.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he is a lieutenant.’

‘Cashiered, of course.’

‘Certainly not. A cashiered lieutenant is no good to me. I thought you

would appreciate that a person like myself can only operate at second or

third hand. A middleman, if you like. Or two.’

‘Ah! I see. Your supplier?’

‘Mr Agnelli. You can’t possibly be so naive as to expect -me to answer so

naive a question. I’ll see what can be done. Where do you want this stuff

delivered?’

‘That depends on how soon you can deliver it.’

‘By noon tomorrow.’

‘Good heavens!’ Agnelli looked incredulous then smiled. ‘It looks as if

I’ve come to the right shop. How will it be delivered?’

‘By Army truck, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Agnelli looked slightly dazed. ‘This makes things a bit

difficult. I thought it would be at least the day after

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tomorrow. Could I call up tomorrow to finalize time and place? And could you

hold up delivery for at least a few hours?’

‘That can be arranged.’ George looked at van Effen. ‘Mr Agnelli can call

here? to a.m., say?’ Van Effen nodded and

eorge smiled at Agnelli. ‘Can’t say yet, but somewhere between ten and

twelve thousand dollars. We offer the best discount rates in Europe.

Dollars, guilders or deutschmarks. More, of course, if our – ah – services

are required.’

Agnelli stood up and smiled, his old relaxed and genial self again. ‘Of

course. The price, I must say, doesn’t seem too exorbitant.’

‘One thing,’ van Effen said pleasantly. ‘You are aware, aren’t you, Mr

Agnelli, that if I moved to another hotel and registered there under

another name, that the chances of your ever finding either of ur, again

would be remote?’

‘Remote? They wouldn’t exist.’Agnelli was frowning. ‘Why ever should you

mention such a thing?’

‘Well, a state of mutual trust does exist between us, doesn’t it?’

‘Naturally.’The puzzlement still there.

‘Well, if it does, call off the watchdogs in the lobby, in the dining-room

and outside.’

‘My watchdogs?’ From the expression on Agnelli’s face one could see that,

far from being baffled, he was stalling for time.

‘If you don’t, we’ll throw them into the canal – suitably trussed of course

– and then move on.’

Agnelli looked at him, his face for once expressionless. ‘You do play for

keeps, don’t you? I really believe you would.’ He smiled and put out his

hand. ‘Shame. Very well, watchdogs retired. Shame. But they really weren’t

up to it.’

When they had gone, van Effen said to George: ‘You really should have taken

up a life of crime. Too late now. Anyway, you’d have given Colonel de Graaf

apoplexy years ago. I’ll bet Annelise has no idea quite how splendid a liar

you are. You have Agnelli hooked, outfoxed, outgunned and demoralized, not

to say dependent: at least, let’s hope so. Will you talk to Vasco later this

evening and tell him that you’ve got an offer of

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employment for him in the capacity of an army lieutenant -after, of

course, he’s made suitable alterations to his appearance? We mustn’t

forget that Agnelli has had the opportunity of studying Vasco at close

range.’

‘There’ll be no problem.’ George handed over Agnelli’s shopping list.

‘I’d give a great deal to see the Colonel’s face when he sees what he’s

got to go shopping for in the morning. You’ll be seeing him, I take it,

in an hour or so. Has it occurred to you that Agnelli might very well be

there along with Riordan and this fellow Samuelson?’

‘It’s an intriguing thought and, yes, it has occurred.’

‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’

‘Well, what, he asks. We know that Agnelli is Annecy.’

‘We’re ninety-nine per cent certain. Don’t forget that I never saw either

of the two Annecy brothers that we didn’t manage to catch and put away.’

‘The fact that you don’t know him doesn’t mean he doesn’t know you, of

course he does – he must have seen your picture in the papers many times

during the period of the arrest and trial. How do you think he’s going

to react when he sees before him not only the dreaded Lieutenant van

Effen but the dreaded lieutenant whose sister he’s got tucked away in

some dungeon, the sister who, for all you know, he spends his leisure

time with, testing out the latest model in thumb-screws?’

‘Should be interesting.’

‘Colonel de Graaf was right,’George muttered. ‘You belong a hundred

fathoms down. Just a cold-blooded fish.’

‘ “Your ten cents will help to kill a British soldier. It’s a bargain at

the price – the best bargain you’ll ever get.” That’s what the collectors

say when they go around rattling their damn tin cans in the Irish bars in

the United States. Especially in the Irish bars in the north-east states.

Especially in New York. Most especially of all in the borough of Queens

where the Irish are thickest on the ground. Ten cents. That’s all they

ask, just ten cents. And, of course, they rattle their cans whenever they

hold Irish nights, Irish dances, Irish raffles, Irish whatever you like.

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‘If you’ve never heard that there are charitable organizations –

charitable they call themselves – which collect for arms, then you live

in another century or with your head in the sands. They claim that the

millions of dollars that they’ve collected over the years have gone to

support the widows and orphans of the IRA members foully shiin by the

murderous British. Support widows and orphans! The founder of one such

evil organization once made the mistake of telling the truth when he

said: “The more British soldiers that are sent back from Ulster in their

coffins, the better.” Jack Lynch, a former Irish premier, has gone on

record as saying that the money is intended for one purpose only – to

make widows and orphans. British widows and orphans.’

Riordan, an abnormally tall, abnormally thin man, blackhaired, deeply

tanned and dressed in a near-ankle-length black raincoat which served

only to heighten the looming angularity of the man, was literally shaking

with rage as he stood facing his audience, his fists ivory-knuckled on

the table before him. His sincerity and outrage were unquestionable, his

intensity almost terrifying.

‘God knows it’s bad enough that the contributions to these infamous

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Categories: MacLean, Alistair
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