“Father-in-law bought it for his daughter and her husband. Named Rawlins.
Thomas Rawlins. Partner in the brokerage house of Godwin and Rawlins. His
daughter’s name is Cecily. Married to Boothroyd.”
Reynolds picked up the page with the list of names. “Who are these people?
How does it break down?”
Glover reached for the other two pages. “It’s all here. Four Americans, two
Swddes, three English, two French, and three German. Fourteen in all.”
“Do you have any rundowns?”
“Only on the Americans. We’ve sent for information on the rest.”
“Who are they? Besides Rawlins.”
“A Howard Thornton, San Francisco. He’s in construction. And two Texas
oilmen. A Louis Gibson and Avery Landor. Between them they own more wells
than fifty of their competitors combined.”
“Any connections between them?”
“Nothing so far. We’re checking that out now.”
“What about the others? The Swedes, the French? The English and the
Germans?”
“Only the names.”
“Anyone familiar?”
“Several. There’s an Innes-Bowen, be’s English, in textiles, -1 think. And
I recognize the name of Daudet, French. Owns steamship lines. And two of
the Germans. Kindorf-he’s in the Ruhr Valley. Coal. And von Schritz-
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ler, speaks for 1. G. Farben. Don’t know the rest, never heard of the
Swedes, either.”
“In one respect they’re all alike–”
“You bet your life they are. They’re all as rich as a roomful of Astors.
You don’t buy places like these with mortgages. Shall I contact Canfield?”
“We’ll have to. Send the list by courier. We’ll cable him to stay in London
until it arrives.”
“Madame Scarlatti may know some of them.”
“I’m counting on it… But I see a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s going to be a temptation for the old girl to head right into Zurich.
. . . If she does, she’s dead. So’s Canfield and Scarlett’s wife.”
“That’s a pretty drastic assumption.”
“Not really. We’re presuming that a group of wealthy men have bought
fourteen estates all adjoining one another because of a common interest.
And Boothroydcourtesy of a generous father-in-law-is one of them.”
‘Which ties Zurich to ScarlattL . . .”
“We think so. We believe it because Boothroyd tried to kill her, right?”
“Of course.”
“But the Scarlatti woman is alive. Boothroyd failed.-
“Obviously.”
“And the property was purchased before that fact.”
“It must have been-”
“Then if Zurich is tied to Boothroyd, Zurich wants Scarlatti dead. They
want to stop her. Also . . . Zurich presumed success. They expected
Boothroyd to succeed.”
“And now that he’s gone,” interrupted Glover, “Zurich will figure the old
woman found out who he was. Maybe mom . . . Ben, perhaps we9ve gone too
far. It might be better to call it oM Make a report to Justice and get
Canfield bacL”
“Not yet. We’re getting close to something. Elizabeth Scarlatti’s the key
right now. We’ll get them plenty of protection.”
“I don’t want to make an slibi in advance, but this is your
responsibility.”
“I understand that In our instructions to Canfield make one thing
absolutely clear. He’s to stay out of Zurich. Under no condition is’he to
go to Switzerland.”
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“I’ll do that.”
Reynolds turned from his desk and stared out the window. He spoke to his
subordinate without looking at him. “And . . . keep a line open on this
Rawlins. Boothroyd’s father-in-law. He’s the one who may have made the
mistake-”
202
CHAPTER 25
Twenty-five miles from the ancient Emits of Cardiff, set in a remote glen in
a Welsh forest, stands the Convent of the Virgin, the home of the Carmelite
sisters. The walls rise in alabaster purity, like a new bride standing in
holy expectation in a lush but serpentless, Eden.
The field accountant and the young wife drove up to the entrance. Canfield
got out of the car and walked to a small arched doorway set in the wall in
which was centered a viewer. There was a black iron knocker on the side of
the door that he used, then waited for several mmutes until a nun answered.
“May I help your,
The field accountant drew out his indentification card and held it up for
the nun to sm “My name is Canfield~ sister. rm here for Madame Elizabeth
ScarlattL Her daughter-in-law is with in&”
“If you’ll wait, please. May ir, She indicated that she wished to take his
identification card with her. He handed it to her through the sms,11
opening.
.11f course.”
The viewer was closed and bolted. Canfield wandered back to the car and
spoke to Janet. “They’re very cautious. 91
“What’s happening?”
“She’s taking my card in to make sure the photograph’s me and not someone
else.”
“LDvely here, isn’t it? So quiet.”
“It is now. I make no promises when we finally see the Old &LOS
203
“Your callous, unfeeling disregard for my well-being, to say nothing of my
comforts, is beyond anything I can describel Do you have any idea what
these idiots sleep
0? I’ll tell youl Army cotsl” –
1~.I’m sorry-Y Canfield tried not to laugh.
“And do you know the slops they eat? Ill tell youl Food I’d prohibit in my
stablesl”
-rm told they grow their own vegetables,” the field accountant countered
gently.
“They pluck up the fertilizer and leave the plantsl”
At that moment the bells of the Angelus pealed out.
“That goes on night and dayl I asked that damned fool, Mother MacCree, or
whoever she is, why so early in the morning-and do you what know what she
said?”
“What, Mother?” asked Janet.
” ‘That is the way of Christ,’ that’s what she said. ‘Not a good Episcopal
Christl’ I told her. – It’s been intolerablel Why were you so late?
Mr.*Iierei said you’d be here four days ago.”
“I had to wait for a courier from Washington. Let’s go. I’ll tell You about
it.”
Elizabeth sat in the back seat of the Bentley reading the Zurich list.
“Know any of those people?” asked Canfield.
“Not personally. Most all of them by reputation, however.”
“For instance?”
“Ibe Americans, Louis Gibson and Avery Landor are two self-styled Texas
Bunyans. They think they built the oil territories. Landor’s a pig, I’m
told. Harold Leacock. one of the Englishmen, is a power on the British
Stock Exchange. Very bright. Myrdal from Sweden is also in the European
market. Stockholm. Elizabeth looked up and acknowledged Canfield’s glance
in the rearview mirror.
“Anybody elser
“Yes. Thyssen in Germany. Fritz Thyssen. Steel com-
204
parties. Everyone knows Kindorf-Ruhr Valley coal, and Von Schnitzler. He’s
1. G. Farben now. . . . One of the Frenchmen, D’Almeida, has control of
railroads, I think. I don’t know Daudet but I recognize the name.”
“He owns tankers. Steamships.”
“Oh, yes. And Masterson. Sydney Masterson. English. Far East imports, I
think. I don’t know Innes-Bowen, but again I’ve heard the name.”
“You didn’t mention Rawlins. Thomas Rawlins.”
“I didn’t think I had to. Godwin and Rawlins. Boothroyd’s father-in-law.”
“You don’t know the fourth American, Howard Thornbon? He’s from San
Francisco.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Janet says your son knew a Thornton from San Francisco.”
“I’m not at all surprised.”
On the road from Pontypridd, on the outskirts of the Rhoudda Valley,
Canfield became aware of an automobile, which regularly appeared in his
side mirror. It was far behind them, hardly more than a speck in the glass,
but it was never out of sight except around curves. And whenever Canfield
rounded one of the many turns, the automobile appeared subsequently much
sooner than its previous distance would indicate. On long stretches it
stayed far in the distance and whenever possible allowed other cars to come
between them.
“What is it, Mr. Canfield?” Elizabeth was watching the field accountant,
who kept shifting his eyes to the mirror outside his window.
“Nothing.”
“Is someone following usr’
‘Trobably not. There aren’t that many good roads leading to the English
border.”
Twenty minutes later Canfield saw that the automobile was drawing nearer.
Five minutes after that he began to understand. There were no cars between
the two vehicles now. Only a stretch of road–a very long curve-bordered on
one side by the rocky slope of a small incline and on the other by a sheer
drop of fifty fe:o into the waters of a Welsh lake-
205
Beyond the end of the curve, Canfield saw that the ground leveled off into
a pasture or overgrown field. He accelerated the Bentley. He wanted to
reach that level area.
The car behind shot forward closing the gap between them. It swung to the
right on the side of the road by the rocky slope. Canfield knew that once
the car came parallel it could easily force him off the road, over the
edge, plunging the Bentley down the steep incline into the water. The field
accountant held the pedal down and veered the car toward the center trying
to cut off the pursuer.
“What is it? What are you doing?” Janet held on to the top of the