Bagley, Desmond - The Spoilers Page 12

  Abbot looked over the rail, and said, 'Well, I'm damned! You were pretty sure of us, weren't you?'

  Ilumined under harsh lighting was a sleek and deadly-looking torpedo set up on trestles, gleaming because of the thin film of protective oil which covered it. To Abbot it looked enormous, and the first thought that came into his head was: How in hell did this bitch lay her hands on a torpedo at three days' notice?

  CHAPTER 5

  Warren checked the maps again, and his pen traced out the record of their journeys. The two weeks they had spent in Kurdistan had been wasted, but he did not see how they could have done differently. There had been a chance, admittedly a slim one, of running across Speering, and they could not have passed it by. But it had been a futile two weeks.

  So they had returned to Tehran in the hope of finding something, what he did not know. All he knew was that he had failed, and failed dismally. Every time he had to write to Hellier confessing failure he cursed and fretted. The only bright spot was that Abbot and Parker seemed to be making good in the Lebanon -- it seemed that his 'insurance policy might pay off in the end. But now they had dropped- out of sight and he did not know what to make of it.

  Johnny Follet took it all phlegmatically. He did not know what Warren was looking for so assiduously, nor did he care so long as he was paid. He had long ago written off his resentment against Warren and was quite enjoying himself in Tehran, and took it as a pleasant and exotic holiday. He wandered the streets and saw the sights, and presently found himself some co ngenial companions.

  Ben Bryan was also uneasy, if not as much as Warren, but that may have been because he did not have Warren's overall responsibility. He and Warren pored over the maps of northwest Iran trying to figure out where Speering could have gone to ground. 'It's no use,' said Ben. 'If these maps were up to the standard of British Ordnance Survey we might have a hope, but half the damned roads up there aren't even shown here.'

  'So what do we do?' asked Warren.

  Ben did not know, and they all idled in low gear.

  Andy Tozier had a problem -- a minor problem, true -- but still a problem, and it puzzled him mightily. He was losing money steadily to Johnny Follet and he could not see how the trick was worked. The money he lost was not much when considered against the number of games played, but the steady trickle annoyed him.

  He spoke to Warren about it. 'On the face of it, it's a fair game -- I can't see how he does it.'

  'I wouldn't trust Johnny to play a fair game,' said Warren. 'What is it this time?'

  'It goes like this. We each have a coin, and we match coins. We don't toss them, so the element of chance is eliminated as far as that goes -- we each have control as to whether we show a head or a tail. Got that?'

  'It seems all right so far,' said Warren cautiously.

  'Yes,' said Tozier. 'Now, if I show heads and he shows tails he pays me thirty pounds. If I show tails and he shows heads he pays me ten pounds.'

  Warren thought about it. Those are two of the four possible occurrences.'

  'Right!' said Tozier. The other two occurrences are both heads or both tails. If either of those happen I pay him twenty pounds.'

  'Wait a minute,' said Warren, and scribbled on a piece of paper. 'There are four possible cases of which you can win two and he can win two. Taking all four cases as equal -

  which they are -- if they all happen you will win forty pounds -- and so will he. It seems a fair game to me.' It also seemed a childish game but that he did not say.

  'Then why the hell is he winning?' demanded Tozier. 'I'm nearly a hundred pounds down already.'

  'You mean to say that you never win?'

  'Oh, no. I win games and so does he -- but he wins more often. It's a sort of see-saw, but he seems to have more weight than I have and my money tends to roll towards him. The thing that makes me wild is that I can't figure the gimmick.'

  'Perhaps you'd better stop playing.'

  'Not until I find out how he does it,' said Tozier determinedly. The thing that gets me is that it isn't as though he could ring in a double-headed penny -- that wouldn't help him.

  Hell, it would make it worse for him because then I'd know what he was calling and I'd act accordingly.' He grinned. 'I'm willing to go another hundred just to find the secret. It's a profitable game -- I could use it myself if I knew how.'

  'It seems as though you'll have plenty of time to play, said Warren acidly. 'We're getting nowhere here.'

  'I've been thinking about that,' said Tozier. 'I've had an idea. What about that pharmaceutical place where Speering ordered his supplies? They'd deliver the stuff, wouldn't they? So they must have an address somewhere in their records. All we have to do is to extract it somehow.'

  Warren looked at him wearily. 'Are you suggesting a burglary?'

  'Something like that.* I've thought of it, too,' admitted Warren. 'But just tell me one thing. How the devil are we going to recognize what we want even if we see it? These people keep records in Persian, which is a foreign language to begin with, and in Arabic script which none of us can read. Could you sort it out, Andy?'

  'Hell, I hadn't thought of that,' said Tozier. 'My colloquial Arabic isn't bad but I can't read the stuff.' He looked up. 'Do you mind if I talk to Johnny about this?'

  Warren hesitated. 'Not as long as you stick to generalities. I don't want him knowing too much.'

  'I won't tell him more than he ought to know. But it's about time he was put to work. He's a good con man and if we can't get the information in any other way then perhaps we can get it by Johnny's fast talk.'

  So Tozier talked to Johnny Follet and Johnny listened. 'Okay,' he said. 'Give me a couple of days and I'll see what I can come up with.' He disappeared into the streets of Tehran and they did not see him for four days. When he came back he reported to Tozier, 'It can be done. It'll take a bit of fooling around, but it can be done. You can have the information in less than a week.'

  II. Follet's plan was so diabolical that it raised the hairs on the back of Warren's head. He said, 'You've got an evil mind, Johnny.'

  'I guess so,' said Follet insouciantly. There's a part for everyone -- the more the merrier. But for Christ's sake take it seriously; it's got to look good and real.'

  Tell me more about this man.'

  'He's assistant to the Chief Clerk in the Stores Department of the company. That means he issues goods against indents and keeps the books on quantities. He's just the guy to have the information you need -- or to be in a position to get it.

  There's no money involved because he never handles it; all that is done by the main office. That's a pity in a way because we lose a chance of really hooking him.'

  'Why don't we just bribe him?' asked Tozier.

  'Because the guy's honest, that's why -- or a reasonable facsimile. Suppose we tried to bribe him and it didn't take? He'd report to his bosses and the information would be whisked out of that office so fast that we wouldn't get another chance at it. And they might tell the police and then we'd be in trouble.'

  'They might not tell the police,' said Warren. 'We don't know how much this firm is involved with Spearing, but it's my guess that it's in on the whole thing. It must be. Any arm issuing certain chemicals and equipment has a damned good idea of what they'll be used for. It's my guess that this crowd is in it up to its collective neck.'

  'What thing?' asked Follet alertly.

  'Never mind, Johnny, carry on with what you were saying.'

  Follet shrugged. This guy -- Javid Raqi -- is a bright boy. He speaks English well, he's had a good education and he's ambitious. I guess that chief clerk won't last long with friend Javid on his heels. He has only one flaw -- he's a gambler.'

  Tozier smiled. 'Your flaw, Johnny?'

  'Not mine,' said Follet promptly. 'He's a sucker gambler. Now, that doesn't mean he's a fool. He's learned to play poker -- the guys working on the gas line taught him -- and he's a good player. I know because he's gotten some of my dough right now, and I didn't have to
let him win it, either -- he gouged it out of me like a pro. But it means he can be got at

  - he can be had; and once he's been got at then we squeeze him goddam hard.' Warren wrinkled his nose distastefully. 'I wish there were some other way of doing this.'

  'Never give a sucker an even break,' said Follet, and turned to Tozier. 'The whole scheme hinges on that videotape gadget. How well does it work?'

  'I have it set up in my room; it works very well.'

  'That I have to see for myself,' said Follet. 'Let's all go up there.'

  They all went up to Tozier's room and Tozier switched on the TV and pointed to the videotape machine. There it is. It's already connected to the TV set.'

  The machine looked very much like an ordinary tape recorder, although bulkier than most. The tape, however, was an inch wide and the reels were oversized. Follet bent down and examined it interestedly. 'I'd like to get this just right; this gadget will take in everything -- sight and sound both?'

  That's it,' said Tozier.

  'How's the quality?'

  'If you use the video-camera there's a bit of blurring, particularly on movement, but if you take a taping of a TV programme then the reproduction is indistinguishable from the original.' He looked at the TV screen. 'I'll show you now.'

  A man was speaking and his voice was heard as Tozier turned up the volume. Warren did not know the language but it seemed to be a news broadcast because the man disappeared and a street scene replaced him, although his voice continued. Tozier bent down and flicked a switch and the reels began to turn, much faster than a normal recording machine. 'We're recording now.'

  'That tape's fairly whipping through,' commented Follet. 'How long can you record?'

  'An hour.'

  'Hell, that's plenty.' He regarded the television screen for a while, then said, 'Okay, let's have a repeat.'

  Tozier ran the tape back and switched the television set to a previously selected unused channel. He stopped the recorder- and set it to- playback, then snapped the starting switch. On the television screen appeared the street scene they had just witnessed, together with the voice of the announcer.

  Follet bent forward with a critical eye on the screen. 'Hey, this quality's fine. It's just about as good as the original, like you said. This is going to work.'

  He straightened. 'Now, look, the action starts on Saturday and you've got to get it right. Not only have you got to get every word right, but the way you say the word. No false notes.' He looked at them appraisingly. 'You're amateurs at this game, so we'll have some rehearsals. Imagine we're putting on a play and I'm the producer. You only have to play to an audience of one.'

  'I can't act,' said Bryan. 'I never could.'

  'That's okay -- you can work this television gadget. As for the rest of us -- I'll play the easy guy, Andy does the hard-nosed stuff, and Warren can be the boss.' Follet grinned as he saw the expression on Warren's face. 'You don't say much and you say it quietly. The way I figure it the less acting you do the better. An ordinary conversational tone can sound real menacing in some situations.'

  He looked about the room. 'Now, where do we put Ben and the video-tape?'

  Tozier went to the window, opened it and looked out. 'I think I can run a line into your room, Johnny. We can settle Ben in there.'

  'Good enough,' said Follet. He slapped his hands together. 'Okay, first rehearsal -beginners, please.'

  At twelve-thirty on Saturday they waited in a lounge just off the foyer of the hotel, not exactly in hiding but certainly concealed from casual inspection. Follet nudged Warren. There he is -- I told him to wait for me in the bar. You go in first; Andy will give you time to settle, and I'll be in right after. Get going.'

  As Warren left, he said a little worriedly to Tozier, 'I hope Ben doesn't ball up his bit with the television.'

  Warren crossed the foyer and entered the bar where he ordered a drink. Javid Raqi was seated at a table and appeared to be somewhat nervous, although probably not as nervous as Warren as he steeled himself to play his part in the charade. Raqi was a young man of about twenty-five, smartly dressed in European fashion from top to toe. He was darkly handsome if you like Valentino looks, and probably had a great future. Warren felt sorry for him.

  Tozier appeared at the door, his jacket draped carelessly over his arm. He walked forward, past Raqi, and something apparently dropped from a pocket to plop right at Raqi's feet. It was a fat wallet of brown leather. Raqi looked down and stooped, then straightened with the wallet in his hand. He looked towards Tozier who had walked on without missing a pace, then followed him to the bar.

  Warren heard the murmur of voices and then the louder tones of Tozier. 'Well, thank you. That was very careless of me. Allow me to buy you a drink.'

  Johnny Follet was now in the room, on Raqi's heels. 'Hi, Javid; I didn't know you two knew each other.' There was surprise in his voice.

  'We don't, Mr, Follet,' said Raqi.

  'Oh!' said Tozier. 'So this is who you were talking about, Johnny. Mr Raqi -- that's the name, isn't it? -- just rescued my wallet.' He opened it to display a thick wad of notes. 'He could have taken the lot without winning it.'

  Follet chuckled. 'He'll probably take it anyway. He's a right sharp poker-player.' He looked around. There's Nick. It'll be a foursome, Javid; does that suit you?'

  Raqi said a little shyly, 'That's all right, Mr Follet.'

  The hell with Mr Follet. We're all friends here. I'm Johnny and this is Andy Tozier -- and coming over is Nick Warren. Gentlemen, Javid Raqi, the best poker-player I've come across in Tehran -- and I'm not kidding.'

  Warren smiled stiffly at Raqi and murmured something conventional. Follet said, 'Don't buy a drink, Andy; let's go where the action is. I have everything laid on -- booze and food both.'

  They all went up to Tozier's room, where the television set had been moved over to the window. Follet had laid on quite a spread; there was cold chicken, sausages of various sorts and salads, together with some unopened bottles of whisky. Everything was set for a long session. Unobtrusively, Warren looked at his watch -- it read just after twelve -

  exactly half an hour slow. He wondered how Follet would doctor the expensive-looking watch he saw on Raqi's slim brown wrist without Raqi knowing it had been done.

  Follet opened a drawer and tossed a sealed pack of cards on to the table. There you are, Javid; you have first deal. Stranger's privilege -- but you won't be a stranger long. Go easy on the water in mine, Nick.'

  Warren poured four drinks and brought them to the table. Raqi was shuffling the cards. He seemed to do it expertly enough, although Warren was no judge of that. He was not as good as Follet, of that he was sure.

  Follet looked about the table. 'We'll be confining ourselves to draw poker, gentlemen -there'll be none of your fancy wild hands here; this is a serious game for serious gamblers. Let's play poker.'

  Raqi dealt the cards, five to each, and said in a quiet voice, 'Jacks or better open.'

  Warren looked at his cards. He was not a good poker-player, although he knew the rules. That doesn't matter,' Follet had said. 'You don't want to win, anyway.' But he had schooled Warren in a couple of intensive lessons all the same.

  At the end of the first hour he was losing -- about four thousand rials to the bad -- say twenty-two pounds. Tozier had lost a little, too, but not nearly as much. Follet had won a little and Raqi was on top, winning about five thousand rials.

  Follet riffled the cards. 'What did I tell you? This boy can play poker,' he said jovially.

  'Say, that's a nice watch you have there, Javid. Mind if I have a look at it?'

  Raqi was flushed with success and was not nearly as shy and nervous as he had been at first. 'Of course,' he said easily, and slipped it from his wrist.

  As Follet took it, Warren said, 'You speak very good English, Javid. Where did you learn it?'

  'I studied at school, Nick; then I went to night classes.' He smiled. This is where I practise it -- at the poker table.'
r />   'You're doing very well.'

  Tozier counted his money. 'Play poker,' he said. 'I'm losing.* Follet grinned. 'I warned you Javid would take your wad.' He held out the watch on his forefinger, but somehow it seemed to slip and it dropped to the floor. Follet pushed back his chair and there was a crunch. 'Oh, hell!' he exclaimed in disgust, and picked up the watch. 'I've bust the dial.' He held it to his ear. 'It's still going, though.'

  Raqi held out his hand, 'It does not matter, Johnny.'

  'It matters to me,' said Follet. 'I'll have it fixed for you.' He dropped it into his shirt pocket. 'No, I insist,' he said over Raqi's expostulations. 'I did the damage -- I'll pay for the fixing. Whose deal is it?' Raqi subsided.

  They continued to play and Raqi continued to win. As far as Warren could judge he was a good natural poker-player and he did not think Follet was discreetly assisting him, although he did not have the special knowledge to know if this was correct. He did know that he himself was losing steadily, although he played as best he could. Tozier recouped his earlier losses and stood about even, but Follet was on the losing side.

  The haze of cigarette smoke in the room grew thicker and Warren began to get a slight headache. This was not his idea of a pleasant Saturday afternoon's entertainment. He glanced at his watch and saw that it read half-past-two. Ben Bryan, in the next room, ought to be busy taping the television programme.

  At quarter to three Tozier threw in his hand with an expression of disgust. 'Hey!' he said in alarm. 'You'd better make that call.'

  Follet looked at his watch. 'Christ, I nearly forgot. It's quarter to three already.' He stood up and walked over to the telephone.

  'I thought it would be later than that,' said Raqi in mild surprise.

  Warren uncovered his watch with the dial turned towards Raqi. 'No -- that's all it is. It might be a bit late for us, though.'

  Follet had his hand on the telephone when Tozier said curtly, 'Not that one, Johnny. Make the call from the lobby.' He jerked his head at Raqi meaningly.

  'Javid's all right,' said Follet easily.