Beggarman, Thief (51 page)

Billy shifted uneasily in the bucket seat and changed his grip on the wheel. “I said I’d try to figure some way of our doing the job together,” he said, “some way of getting away with it without being caught. What with my training as a soldier and all.”

“Are
you
sane?” Rudolph’s voice was sharp.

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Did you
mean
what you said?”

“I don’t know what I meant, really,” Billy said flatly. “If it comes to the sticking point, I guess I mean it now. You don’t have to sound like a cop interrogating a prisoner, Rudolph.”

Rudolph made an exasperated noise. “Two nuts,” he said, “two young nuts off the same tree.”

“All in the family,” Billy said, offended by Rudolph’s estimate of him. “Welcome to nutsville, European division, Uncle.”

“Why’re you in Paris while he’s down there getting into God knows what kind of idiotic trouble?” Rudolph’s voice rose in anger as he spoke.

“I told him I had a gun in Paris with a silencer and that I would bring it to him,” Billy said.

“Do
you have a gun with a silencer?”

“Yes.”

“God damn it, Billy,” Rudolph said, “what the hell have you been messed up with these last few years?”

Again Billy shifted uneasily in the bucket seat. “I’d rather not say. And it’s better for you—and for me—if you don’t know.”

Rudolph took a deep breath and then sighed. “Are the police after you?”

“No. At least not that I know of,” Billy said, glad that he had to keep his eyes on the road so that he couldn’t see the expression on his uncle’s face.

Rudolph rubbed his face wearily, the gesture making a rasping sound on his unshaven cheek. “You’d better give me that gun,” he said.

“I told Wesley I’d bring it down to him in a day or so,” Billy said.

“Listen, Billy,” Rudolph said, trying to keep his voice even, “you asked me to come over here to help. I took the next plane. Either you’re going to do what I say or …” He stopped.

“Or what?” Billy asked.

“I don’t know. Yet. Something. Just exactly where is Wesley now? Today? This minute?”

“Saint-Tropez. We agreed I’d send him a wire telling him where he could call me in Paris and arrange for where and when we’d meet down south.”

“Did
you send the wire?”

“This morning.”

“What was your rush? Why didn’t you wait until I got here? Maybe it would be better if he didn’t know where to find you.”

“He’s suspicious enough of me as it is,” Billy said, defending himself. “If I don’t come through with my half of the bargain, he’ll just go off on his own and that will be the end of Wesley Jordache.”

“Ah, maybe you’re right,” Rudolph said. “Maybe. Has he called you yet?”

“No.”

“All right,” Rudolph said. “When he does call don’t tell him I’m in Europe. And tell him it’s taking more time than you thought to lay your hands on that goddamn gun.”

“What good will that do?”

“It’ll give me some extra time to come up with something, that’s what it will do,” Rudolph said angrily. “And you could use some time to do a little thinking, too. Now don’t talk for a while. I’m bushed from the trip and I want to close my eyes for a few minutes and hope that either you or I will be struck by lightning or at least one single useful thought before we get to the hotel.”

Just before they said good night Rudolph said, “Remember, I want that gun tomorrow. And one thing is sure—Wesley’s never even going to
see
it.”

“Then he’ll use a knife or a club or maybe his bare hands,” Billy said. “You don’t know what he’s like.”

“That’s true,” said Rudolph. “And I’m sorry I’m finding out now.”

“Listen,” Billy said, “if you don’t really want to get mixed up in this, I’ll try to handle it myself. You can always forget what I’ve told you, you know.”

Rudolph looked thoughtfully at Billy, as though he was considering the disadvantages of not forgetting, then shook his head. “Maybe,” he said, “I should have been the one to go looking for Mr. Danovic. Long ago. Only it never occurred to me until tonight. No, I don’t think forgetting is the answer. Good night, Billy. If you have any good ideas during the night, call me. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping all that well, anyway.”

He wiped his face with his hands again and walked slowly and heavily toward the elevator.

I never thought about how old he is before this, Billy thought, as the elevator door opened and then shut behind his uncle.

«  »

The next morning they had breakfast together in the hotel dining room. Rudolph looked haggard, with puffs under his eyes, and he ate without speaking, drinking one cup of coffee after another.

“You go get the—the object—this afternoon,” he said finally, “and hand it over to me.”

“Are you sure you want to …” Billy began.

“One thing I’m sure of,” Rudolph snapped, “is that I don’t want any more arguments from you.”

“Okay,” Billy said, “you’re the boss.” He felt relieved to be able to say it, the responsibility for decision no longer only in his hands.

The concierge came into the dining room and approached Billy. “There’s a telephone call for you, Mr. Abbott,” he said in French. “In the hall booth.”

“Thank you.” Billy stood up. “It must be him,” he said to Rudolph. “Nobody else knows I’m here.”

“Be smart about how you talk to him,” Rudolph said. “Make everything sound plausible.”

“I’ll do my best. I’m not guaranteeing anything when it comes to that boy,” Billy said and started out of the dining room. The coffee he had drunk suddenly tasted sour in his mouth as he went into the hall and entered the booth and picked up the phone.

“Billy,” Wesley said, his voice thin over the wire, “can you talk?”

“Not really.”

“I’m at Les Pinèdes in Saint-Tropez. When will you get here?”

“Not for a few days, I’m afraid, Wesley. There’ve been some complications about getting the stuff.” His own voice sounded fake to him as he spoke.

“What sort of complications?” Wesley said harshly.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Are you going to get it or aren’t you going to get it?”

“I’m going to get it all right. It’s just going to take a little time.”

“What’s a little time?”

“Four, five days.”

“If I don’t see you in the next five days, I’m going on to Cannes,” Wesley said. “Alone. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Keep your cool, Wesley. I’m doing the best I can.”

“I think you’re stalling, Billy.”

“I’m not stalling,” Billy said. “It’s just that certain things have come up.”

“I bet,” Wesley said and hung up.

Billy walked slowly back into the dining room. “He’s at Les Pinèdes in Saint-Tropez,” he said as he sat down. “And he’s not happy. He gave me five days.”

Rudolph nodded. “You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?”

“No.”

“I’ll take the train down to Antibes tonight,” Rudolph said. “I don’t want to go through the check at the airport. I’ll be at the Colombed’Or at Saint-Paul-de-Vence if you want to reach me.”

“Did you come up with any ideas during the night?” Billy asked.

“Maybe.” Rudolph smiled grimly.

“Do you want to tell me what they are?”

“No. As you said last night, I’d rather not say. And it’s better for you and for me if you don’t know.”

“We’re a great family at keeping secrets from one another, aren’t we?”

“Up to a certain point.” Rudolph stood up. “I’m going to enjoy the city of Paris today. I may even go to the Louvre. I’ll meet you back here at five o’clock. Don’t do anything foolish until then.”

“I’ll try not to,” Billy said. “Until five o’clock.”

After his uncle had gone, Billy took a taxi to the bank on the corner of the rue St. Dominique. He didn’t want anyone noticing the convertible Peugeot and perhaps taking down the number on the license plate. He took his tennis bag along with him, and when the attendant in the vault had turned the two keys and had gone back to his desk, Billy slipped the automatic and the extra clips into the bag and what remained of the ten thousand francs and went upstairs and told the clerk he was giving up the
coffre-fort
and handed over his key.

Then, carrying the bag, he took a taxi back to the hotel and put the bag on the bed. He sat there looking at it until five o’clock.

«  »

Rudolph got off the train into the southern morning sunlight at Antibes. The car he had ordered from Hertz was waiting for him at the station. As he signed for it he kept one leg pressed against his locked bag.

When he drove up to the Colombe d’Or he carried the bag with him to the hotel and after checking in followed the porter who carried the bag.

After the porter had left he telephoned the old lawyer in Antibes and made a date for eleven o’clock in his office. Rudolph shaved and had a bath, in which he drowsed for a long time. It was two o’clock in the morning in New York and his body knew it. He moved lethargically as he put on fresh clothes and ordered a big cup of coffee to be sent to his room. It was the same room he had had before. Jeanne had visited him there and the memory of the times with her stirred old desires. He took out a sheet of paper and wrote, “Dear Jeanne, I’m back at our hotel and wonder if you’re free—” He stopped writing and crumpled the sheet of paper. It had been too long ago. Over.

At ten-thirty he locked his bag and went down to the rented car and drove carefully to Antibes.

The old man was waiting for him at the large polished table with the sunny blue sea framed in the big window behind him.

“It’s safe to talk in here, isn’t it?” Rudolph asked as he sat down.

“Completely,” the lawyer said.

“I mean, there are no tape recorders in the desk or anything like that?”

“There is one,” the lawyer admitted, “but it is not turned on. I only use it when the client demands it.”

“I hope this doesn’t offend you, sir,” Rudolph said, “but I would like you to put it on the desk so that we both can be sure it is not recording.”

The old man wrinkled his face into a frown. “If you wish, sir,” he said coldly. He pulled open a drawer and put the little machine on the desk, to one side.

Rudolph stood up to look at it. It was not turned on. “Thank you, sir,” he said and sat down again. “I would also appreciate it,” he said, “if you didn’t take any notes either now or after I’ve left.”

The old man nodded. “No notes,” he said.

“The matter I’m here for is a very delicate one,” Rudolph said. “It concerns the safety of my nephew, the son of my brother who was killed.”

The old man nodded again. “A sad affair,” he said. “I trust the wounds have healed somewhat.”

“Somewhat,” Rudolph said.

“And,” the lawyer said, “that the estate was divided with a minimum of—ah—acrimony.”

“Maximum,” Rudolph said grimly.

“Alas,” the old man said. “These family matters.”

“My nephew is in the south of France,” Rudolph said. “He doesn’t know that I’m in the country and I would prefer it if he didn’t learn about my presence for the time being.”

“Very well.”

“He is here to find out where he can reach Mr. Danovic.”

“Ah,” the old man said gravely.

“He intends to kill the man when he finds him.”

The old man coughed, as though something were stuck in his throat. He took out a large white handkerchief and wiped his lips. “Forgive me,” he said. “I see what you mean when you say it is a delicate matter.”

“I don’t want him ever to find Danovic.”

“I understand your position,” the lawyer said. “What I don’t understand is how I can be of any help.”

Rudolph took a deep breath. “If Danovic is killed—by other means, let us say—before my nephew learns of his whereabouts, the problem would be solved.”

“I see,” the old man said thoughtfully. He coughed again and once more produced the handkerchief. “And just how do you believe I can help achieve this desirable result?”

“In your time, sir,” said Rudolph, “you must have handled cases that involved members of the
milieu
along this coast.…”

The lawyer nodded. “In my time,” he said softly, “yes.”

“If you would introduce me to a man who knew where Danovic could be found,” Rudolph said, “and who could be persuaded to undertake the job, I’d be prepared to pay very well for his—his services.”

“I see,” the lawyer said.

“Naturally,” Rudolph said, “I’d be prepared to deposit a considerable sum in your Swiss account for
your
services.”

“Naturally,” the lawyer agreed. He sighed. Rudolph could not tell whether it was because of the risks that might have to be run or at the thought of the considerable sum in the Swiss account.

“It would have to be done very soon,” Rudolph said. “The boy is impatient and foolish.”

The lawyer nodded. “I sympathize with your position,
Monsieur
Jor-dache,” he said, “but as you can imagine, it is not something that can be arranged overnight, if at all.…”

“I’m prepared to go as high as twenty thousand dollars,” Rudolph said steadily.

Again the lawyer coughed. Again he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief. “I have never smoked in my life,” he said, almost petulantly, “and yet this cough pursues me.” He swung around in his chair and looked out at the calm sea, as though some fruitful answer could be found there for the questions that were troubling him.

There was silence in the room for a long moment. In the silence Rudolph reflected painfully on what he was doing. He was committing an evil act. All his life he had believed in goodness and morality and he was now committing an evil act. But what was he doing it for? To prevent an even more evil act. Morality can be a trap, he thought, just like a lot of other noble words. The question is—what comes first, your principles or your own flesh and blood? Well, he had answered the question, at least for himself. He would suffer for this later, if he had to.

The silence in the room was broken when, without turning to face Rudolph, the lawyer said, “I will see what I can do. At the very best, I can only hope to communicate with a gentleman who might just possibly be interested and have him get in touch with you. I hope you understand that would have to be the beginning and the end of the matter for me.”