Whiff Of Money (4 page)

Humming under his breath, Girland put the mirror back on the dressing-table, emptied his cigarette butts into the trash basket, made his bed and then washed up.

Some fifteen minutes later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, then the doorbell rang. He opened the door.

Breathing heavily from the long climb, Dorey surveyed Girland, seeing a slimly-built man, thin-faced with black hair, a few scattered white hairs either side of his temples, dark alert eyes that often had a jeering light in them, a thin hard mouth and a pronounced almost Wellingtonian nose.

Girland looked at the movie projector Dorey was carrying, then with his jeering smile, he shook his head.

'Not today, thank you ... I never buy anything at the door.'

'Don't be impertinent,' Dorey said, trying to regain his breath. 'I want to talk to you.'

With a resigned shrug, Girland stood aside.

'Well, come in. This is a surprise. I thought you had retired long ago and were back in the States with your feet up.'

Dorey ignored this. He looked around the room, then eyed the big lush-looking rug, his eyebrows lifting.

'Hmm... that's a nice rug you have there... a Bukhara, isn't it?'

'Yes... thank you very much.'

Dorey looked sharply at Girland who was grinning.

I suppose that means you bought it with the money you stole from me.'

Girland laughed.

'Sit down. Take the weight off your feet. It's a long climb for an elderly gentleman... it even makes me tired sometimes.'

Dorey took off his overcoat, dropped it on a chair, then sat down in the big armchair. He surveyed Girland with disapproval.

'I have a job for you.'

Girland grimaced, then held out his hands as if to push Dorey away.

'No, thank you. If it is anything like the last job you landed in my lap, I'm not interested. I've finally made up my mind, Dorey, I have had enough of your funny little jobs. I'm getting along very well without you and I intend to continue to get along without you. Working for you is nothing but a pain in the neck.'

'This is an unofficial job,' Dorey said, crossing one bird-like leg over the other. He suddenly became aware how comfortable the big armchair was. 'This is a nice chair you have.'

'Glad you like it,' Girland said and smiled. 'Thank you very much.'

Dorey's face suddenly relaxed and he gave his dry, wintry smile.

'You are an amusing rogue, Girland. There are times when I actually find myself liking you. How would you like to pick up ten thousand dollars?'

'Have you been drinking?' Girland lifted his eyebrows. He sat on the settee, then stretched out lengthwise, and eyed Dorey with a shade more interest. 'Ten thousand? Not from you ... that would be too much to believe.'

'Ten thousand and expenses,' Dorey said, sensing that Girland, like a hungry trout, was now beginnng to nibble at his bait.

'Could be you just might end up with fifteen or even twenty thousand dollars. Does it interest you?'

Girland laced his fingers at the back of his head. He stared up at the ceiling for some moments, then said, 'You know something, Dorey? You are not very subtle. You are sure I am for sale. Well, I am not. Every so often you and I get into this kind of huddle and you wave a bait under my nose and I fall for it. So what happens? I pull your chestnuts out of the fire and always land in grief myself. No... I'll get by without your ten thousand dollars. I'm not interested.'

Dorey smiled.

'What's the matter with you, Girland?' he asked. T thought you still had some guts.'

'This kind of talk I love! So now, apart from all this money you're offering, I also have to have guts.'

'Let's stop this fooling!' Dorey said, his voice sharpening. 'Time is running out. Do you want this job which will pay a guaranteed fifteen thousand dollars or don't you?'

Girland studied Dorey thoughtfully.

'Guaranteed?'

' That's what I said.'

'How is this fifteen thousand to be paid?' 'Five thousand tomorrow and ten thousand when the job is done.'

Girland shook his head.

'No, Dorey, I don't go along with that, but I might if you paid ten thousand tomorrow and ten thousand when the job is done. Yes ... I just might be tempted on those terms.'

Dorey snorted and got to his feet. ,

'You've heard my terms. I can get anyone to do this job, Girland. Don't imagine you are the only man...'

' Save it,' Girland said and closed his eyes. 'Nice to see you looking so well considering your age. Thanks for coming.

Good-bye.' Dorey hesitated, then sat down again.

'One of these days, Girland, I'm going to fix you and fix you good. It's time you spent a few years in jail...'

'Are you still here?' Girland opened his eyes. 'The trouble with you, Dorey, is you take life too seriously. It's fatal. Okay, stop looking like an outraged crocodile . . . have we a deal or haven't we?'

Dorey choked back his wrath. This was too important to waste further time haggling. Sherman had all the money in the world. He would be furious if he got to know that Dorey was quibbling about money, but it stuck in Dorey's throat to give this insolent layabout such a sum.

'Yes ... we have a deal,' he said finally.

Girland eyed him.

'Ten thousand tomorrow morning, and ten thousand when I have fixed this job?'

Dorey drew in an exasperated breath.

'Yes.'

Girland swung his legs off the settee and sat up. His face was alert now and his eyes bright.

'Gome on... tell me. Just what is this job?'

Dorey picked up the movie projector....

'Do you understand how to work this? I don't. I want you to see a film.'

'Oh, sure.' Girland got to his feet, set up the projector, wound on the film and then pulled the long, gold-coloured curtains over the big studio window.

'Nice, aren'tthey?' he said, fingering the material. 'Again, thanks.'

'Get on with it!' Dorey snapped. T can take just so much from you, Girland, but I warn you...'

'Dorey! That's temper!'

'Look at this film and stop behaving like a delinquent!'

Girland laughed. He switched on the projector, throwing the picture on his white wall. He flopped back on the settee and watched what went on on the film.

When he realised the kind of film he was looking at, he muttered, 'Dorey! You surprise me!' Then he said nothing further, but sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching the girl and the hooded man in their shameless act.

Finally the film ran off the spool. Girland got up, turned off the projector and pulled back the curtains.

He returned to the settee and lay on it.

'Go ahead and talk. I don't imagine you brought this thing along for me to see for fun. What's it all about?'

' There are three other films like this,' Dorey said. T must find them. I also, want to find the girl in the film. That's the job, Girland. Do you think you can trace these films and find the girl? Try to be honest with me. The films were taken in Paris so I presume the girl is here too. How about it?'

Girland rubbed his hands on his knees as he studied Dorey.

'What's the rest of it?'

'That's as much as you need know,' Dorey snapped. 'You will be paid.

'Oh, cut it out! If I handle this, I want the whole photo. Why are you mixed up in this?'

'That's not your business, Girland. I want you to trace these other three films and find the girl... that's what you're being paid for.'

Girland got up, took a cigarette from a pack on the table and lit it.

'How's our future President keeping these days, Dorey? Is he free from trouble and worries... is he happy?'

Dorey started as if he had been stung.

'What are you talking about?' he demanded. 'What has ... ?'

'Come off your ladder!' Girland said impatiently. He returned to the settee and sat down, facing Dorey, his eyes probing and hard. 'You forget I get around in this city. You forget I was once one of your dreary agents. You forget I meet and see lots of people you have never heard of. That girl on the film is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States ... God help them! No wonder you've come here offering me all this money. Well, Dorey, for perhaps the first time in your life, you have done the right thing, coming to me. This job is right up my cul-de-sac.

Now don't look like a turkey with colic. She's Sherman's daughter, isn't she?'

Dorey drew in a long, slow breath.

'Do you know her?'

'I've seen her... I don't know her. I ran into her at a pot party. She was stoned. Some little wasp whispered in my ear that she was Sherman's daughter. This would be three months ago... probably more.'

'Do you know where to find her?'

'That's not answering my question. She is Sherman's daughter, isn't she?'

'Yes.' Dorey hesitated, then plunged on, 'Sherman is being blackmailed. He's been warned to stop running for the Presidency or three more films will be mailed to the Opposition Party. They will not only wash him up as President, but they will utterly ruin him. He came to me for unofficial help. I come to you.'

Girland thought for a long moment, his face expressionless.

'It takes some time to dig the facts out of you, doesn't it?' he said finally. 'So for twenty thousand dollars, Sherman hopes to become President of the United States with me doing his dirty work.' 'Isn't it enough?' Dorey asked, looking anxious. 'Oh yes, but I'm wondering if I want to help him. I don't like him. I may be out of your racket now but I listen and hear things. I know he tried to get rid of his daughter. I don't dig for that. He is a creep who yearns for power and anyone who gets in his way, goes down the hole. I don't like his politics. I wouldn't vote for him. I wouldn't tell him the time if he asked me.'

Dorey said quietly, 'Would you put the projector in its case for me? I see I am wasting my time with you, Girland.'

As he got to his feet, Girland said, 'Don't be so touchy. You know I'll do the job. You know if the money is big enough, I'll do any job. You get off. Leave the film with me. I'll let you know something in a day or so.' Dorey regarded him. 'It's a deal then?'

'Oh, sure.' Girland sounded bored. 'I'm always a sucker for money.' He suddenly grinned. 'I want ten thousand dollars in traveller's cheques right here tomorrow morning. I'll trust you to pay the balance when the job is done.'

'I'll arrange it.' Dorey put on his overcoat. 'I don't have to remind you to be careful... if there is the slightest leak...'

'On your way.' Girland waved to the door. 'This is my pigeon now. You don't have to remind me about anything.'

* * *

Max Lintz was tall and bony. He had recently come from East Berlin to work for the Soviet Security in Paris. Nearing fifty years of age, balding with deep-set eyes and a thin, sour mouth, he was known to be an expert tracker of men and an expert pistol shot.

Drina liked him. They were of the same age and they got along well together. Whereas Paul Labrey, because of his youth and his manner, often made Drina boil with fury, Lintz had a soothing effect on him.

They were sitting at a cafe near Girland's apartment, waiting.

'Would you prefer to follow Dorey?' Lintz asked suddenly. I will take care of Girland... if you wish.'

Drina shifted, frowning. This remark implied that he wasn't capable of following Girland and he looked sharply at Lintz.

'We obey orders, comrade. I am to watch Girland. Comrade Kovski said so.'

Lintz shrugged.

'As you will, but be careful. Girland is a professional.'

Again Drina shifted in his chair.

'So am I.' He stared suspiciously at Lintz. 'Don't you think so?'

Although Lintz liked Drina, he secretly thought he was well past his prime. He thought Kovski had made a mistake using Drina to watch a man like Girland, but that was Kovski's business.

'Of course,' he said.

There was a long pause. Drina sipped his cooling coffee and stared at the entrance to Girland's apartment block.

T hear Malik is in Paris,' Lintz said, 'and in disgrace.'

'Yes.' Drina's little eyes surveyed the cafe's terrace. There was no one within hearing distance. 'A wonderful man ... the best.'

'Yes. It can happen to any of us.'

'Girland tricked him.'

'So I heard. How long do you think Malik will remain out of the field?'

Drina hesitated. Again he assured himself no one was listening.

' Kovski hates him.'

'Of the two men,' Lintz said softly, I prefer Malik.'

This was too dangerous, Drina thought. He merely shrugged his fat shoulders. He loathed Kovski and was terrified of him. Kovski, to his thinking, was the jackal to Malik's lion.

'Perhaps we had better not discuss this, Max,' he said uneasily. 'Nothing good ever conies of discussing personalities.'

'That's true.'

The two men remained sitting on the terrace in silence until they saw Dorey appear and walk towards his parked Jaguar.

'There's my man,' Lintz said. T leave you to pay the bill. Good luck . . . and be careful' He got to his feet and crossed to where he had left his shabby Renault 4, climbed to and drove after the Jaguar.

Drina watched him disappear, then putting three francs on the table, he lit a Gauloise and continued his wait. He was nervous. Lintz was right. Girland was a professional. He would have liked Lintz to have taken care of Girland, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Now, thinking that in a little while, he would have to follow this man wherever he went and remain out of sight brought him out into a cold sweat. Suppose he lost him? Suppose Girland spotted him? He licked his dry lips, trying to assure himself that for the past fifteen years he had followed susoects and had always been successful.

He was so unnerved he could no longer sit at the table. He got up, waved to the waiter, indicating he had left payment and walked across the narrow street to where he had parked his Deux Chevaux. He got in and waited.

Ten minutes later, he saw Girland come from his apartment block and saunter down the street. Girland was wearing a short leather coat over his sweater and hipsters. He was smoking, his hand thrust into his coat pocket.