Authors: John Gordon Davis
She pressed her eyelids. ‘Exactly.’
He said: ‘Perhaps a trustworthy private detective? Or even, maybe, an accomplished forger. But I don’t think friend Makepeace can produce such a person, especially not in a hurry. So, where do we look?’
‘That’s why I’m sitting up in the cold light of dawn, after a deliriously wonderful yesterday, trying to think how Max would have done it.’
Morgan said: ‘And
you
would want to accompany that person to the box, wouldn’t you? To find the evidence yourself, and destroy it.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘That means that if
he
is caught out in his forgery, both of you go to jail.’
‘That’s a risk I’ve got to take.’
He said carefully: ‘I’m not prepared to let you take that risk.’
She looked at him squarely.
‘I love you, Jack. But you will not stop me.’
He said relentlessly: ‘But if you find a person to impersonate Max Constantine, would you trust him – if you don’t even trust a lawyer?’
‘Again, exactly! But if I think enough there must be a solution.’
Morgan sat back. Oh God, he did not want to say this.
‘There is a solution. Me. I impersonate Maxwell Constantine.’ He added flatly, before she could interrupt: ‘I’ve had a good look at the signature. It wouldn’t be hard to forge. It is itself a forgery and therefore has no veteran flourishes.’
She took his hand.
‘No. That’s exactly why I’m sitting up trying to use my tiny mind. I’m not having you take that risk. I
mean
that.’
Morgan sat back. God, he didn’t want that risk, either. He tried to hang on tight to the happiness, to the lovely feelings he had woken up with, he did not want to think any further about what would happen if today went wrong.
‘Those are your options, Anna. Before the day’s out we may have to decide on one. But we’re crossing our bridges before we come to them.’ He held a finger out at her. ‘Let’s get one thing straight in your mind … Today you are walking into
your
bank. To open a deposit box which is in
your
name …
To get whatever you goddam want out of it. You’re in America, the Land of the Free. Not all the Queen’s horses can legally stop you. And I consider it very, very unlikely they would have the audacity to try …’ He paused. ‘Now, we’re going to walk into that bank this morning bold as brass, with Makepeace to look after us, and he’s one of the best karate men the Royal Navy’s ever known. I don’t think we need him but we’re very well prepared …’ He shook his finger at her: ‘
Confidence.
That’s the attitude today, Anna. We’ll reconsider the options when the time comes. Got that?’
She looked at him.
‘Got it,’ she said.
It was 6.15 am when the train pulled into the station in New Jersey, one hour from New York.
It was cold, and they had only summer clothing. Morgan got out at one end of the carriage, Anna at the other. She set off down the long platform, shivering. Morgan followed, carrying the handgrip, feeling very conspicuous in shirtsleeves. There were only a few other people leaving the train. He glanced over his shoulder. There was nobody.
Anna hurried through the ticket hall, out into the early morning. There was a taxi rank. She hurried to the first vehicle. Morgan looked about. Nobody was paying attention. He hurried over to the taxi and climbed in beside her.
‘You folks gonna catch your death like that,’ the driver said. ‘Where to?’
‘Somewhere we can get coffee. Then, in an hour’s time, come back and drive us to Manhattan.’
‘To
where?
… I’m sorry, Mister, I don’t go interstate.’
Morgan held out a fifty-dollar bill.
‘What’s on the meter, plus this.’
At nine that morning the taxi dropped them outside Macey’s department store in New York, very pleased with his fifty bucks. ‘Have a nice day!’
It was bitterly cold. People were hurrying to work, wrapped up. Morgan and Anna hurried into the big store. The sudden warmth inside was a relief.
He said: ‘Wig and hairdye. And just enough clothes to look respectable. Meet me back here in forty-five minutes.’ He turned and hurried away.
He went to the public telephones. He looked in the yellow pages for multi-storey car parks. He made notes.
Then he went to the floral department. He ordered roses to be delivered to Mr and Mrs Denton at the Royalton Hotel, 44 West 44th Street. He wrote on the card:
Welcome to New York! How about a drink at our old haunt (Pete’s Tavern, 3rd Avenue near Union Square) at eleven am?
He sealed the card in the envelope. ‘Will that go immediately?’
‘Immediately, sir. Have a nice day.’
‘You too.’ He hurried away to the men’s department.
He bought a cheap raincoat, a navy-blue blazer, three shirts, vests, socks, underpants, a tie, trousers and shoes. It took him twenty-five minutes. He went to the changing rooms and put the new gear on. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was still not used to having black hair. He stuffed his old clothes into his shopping bag. Then he went to the stationery department and bought three identical street maps of Manhattan, a notebook and a bottle of glue.
He went to meet Anna.
He was early. He had to force himself not to pace. He went to the cosmetic counter and took great interest in Helena Rubinstein’s fine products. ‘Just browsing, for my wife,’ he said to the salesgirl. And he thought:
Wife.
That’s a lovely word. He looked up and his wife was coming towards him, wan and beautiful and smiling brightly. She wore a fawn raincoat over a blouse and skirt and no-nonsense walking shoes, and she took his breath away. She was as beautiful with black hair as she had been with blonde. He took her arm.
He led her back to the telephones. He pulled out the note he had made in Fort Lauderdale. He dialled. It rang only twice. ‘Brew and Burger.’
Morgan handed the receiver to Anna. She said, ‘I’m meeting
somebody there about now. A tall man with blue eyes, called Douglas. Have you got such a gentleman?’
‘I’ll have a look …’
A minute passed.
‘Hullo!’ Makepeace shouted.
Anna said slowly: ‘I’ve booked us a room at the Royalton Hotel, forty-four West Forty-fourth street. Mr and Mrs Denton.’
She hung up. Morgan felt limp with relief. Anna said, ‘Do you think they could have tapped that call?’
‘Possible. If they managed to tap our calls yesterday, they’d know we were meeting at the Brew and Burger. But even if they’re following him right now to the Royalton Hotel, they don’t know about the flowers.’ He looked feverishly at the list he had made of things they had to do.
He got the telephone directory again. He telephoned Thomas Cook and made some airline reservations. Then he telephoned a store that sold medical equipment, and reserved one wheelchair. Then he called a car-hire firm, and ordered a car, with driver, to fetch them immediately.
Ten minutes later the car arrived outside Macey’s. ‘Where to, sir?’
‘First, somewhere we can get passport photographs taken quickly. Then …’ He produced one of the maps he had bought. ‘To the World Trade Center. From there, to this multi-storeyed car park I’ve marked on the map. Slowly.’ He explained: ‘I’m a movie producer. I’m looking for suitable streets to film a car-chase scene.’
Pete’s Tavern is an old-fashioned New York bar, with dark ceilings and wooden booths and red-checked tablecloths. They sat where they could see the door. The young man called Spider Webster sat alone in another booth.
‘You don’t
know
?’ Morgan said to Makepeace. ‘Did you
look
?’
‘I mean,’ Makepeace said earnestly, ‘I didn’t see anybody suspicious.’
‘Was there anybody in the hotel foyer?’
‘A few people. I left Spider in the foyer. I checked in, and went up to the room. Saw the flowers. Read your message, and
left. Nice room,’ he added. ‘Could have done with a sleep, got none on the plane.’
‘Did you leave your bags in the room?’
‘
No
, Spider’s got the bags, I’m not stupid. When I got the flowers I figured the room was just a dead-letter box.’
‘When you left, were the same people in the foyer?’
‘Spider says no. We got a taxi straight away.’
‘Did anybody follow you out of the hotel and get a taxi?’
‘No. But there’s another quite big hotel across the street, and taxis were leaving there all the time.’
‘Did you watch through the rear window?’
‘Of course. But the streets are full of taxis. Told mine to go to Grand Central Station, seen it in the movies. We got out, walked round the station a bit, then got another cab and came here. Got out two blocks away, walked the rest. I did the right
things.
I
thought
,’ Makepeace complained, ‘this was “perfectly legal”?’
‘It is. Did you get the blank passports?’
‘Got them.’ Makepeace was a tall man with a surprised, triangular face. ‘From Danziger. You owe five hundred pounds.’
‘
Danziger knows they’re for me?
’
‘
No
,’ Makepeace sighed. ‘You owe
me
five hundred nicker. And the rest,’ he added.
Morgan said: ‘Danziger? I don’t trust that man. Did he know you were coming to join me?’
‘Of
course
not,’ Makepeace said plaintively ‘– I know about professional secrecy. All he knows is I left London in a hurry and needed two blanks. He had them hand-delivered to me at the airport. I
had
to use Danziger, he’s the only guy who can lay his hands on everything in a hurry.’
Morgan sighed grimly. ‘You steer clear of Danziger. You’ll get a bad reputation. And this guy you’ve brought, Webster’ – he nodded down the bar ‘– is he safe?’
‘Perfectly. Ex-SAS.’
‘Why did he leave the SAS?’
‘Usual reason. Money.’
‘And what’s he costing me?’
‘Same as me,’ Makepeace said. Two thousand up front, plus five hundred a day. Plus expenses.’
‘Jesus. You don’t come cheap, do you?’
‘It’s okay,’ Anna said.
‘It’s
cheap
,’ Makepeace said indignantly. ‘That’s special rates, for a friend. You should see what Danziger charges.’
‘All right.’ Morgan sighed. ‘Call Webster over.’
Webster came and sat down in the booth with them. He was a shy, smallish young man, with a ferrety face and a crew cut.
Morgan said: ‘This morning, we are all going to Anna’s bank. Where she has a safety-deposit box. Now, as we leave that bank, it is your job – and mine – to bodyguard her.’
Makepeace said, ‘What’s she going to take out of the box?’
‘Never mind. But it’s hers. And it’s important.’
Makepeace blinked. ‘Who’re we bodyguarding her against?’
‘Against anybody who tries to rob her.’
‘I haven’t got a shooter – couldn’t take one on the plane.’
‘Of course not. I’ve got one for you.’ He carefully slipped the dead pilot’s pistol from his pocket. ‘Smith and Wesson. Loaded.’ He held up a finger: ‘But you only use that as a very last resort – otherwise it’s unarmed combat. And they won’t shoot at us. They’ll only try to strong-arm us into a waiting car. We fight them off and run to our own waiting car. Which
you
,’ he added, ‘are about to rent from Hertz. We drive away like hell, and shake them off.’
Makepeace said worriedly, ‘Who are these guys?’
‘Never mind. I tell you if and when you need to know.’
Makepeace blinked. ‘And where do we drive
to
?’
‘I have a route, which I’ll outline very carefully. But first let me point out that it is
very
likely that there will be
nobody
waiting to rob us outside that bank. In which case –’ he spread his hands – ‘we drive away without a care in the world, and your job is probably over, Dougie. If we’ve been lucky and got what we want from the bank, you fly home to sunny England.’
Makepeace was all rapt attention. He said hoarsely: ‘But if you haven’t been so lucky?’
This was the bridge they did not want to cross until they got to it. Anna hunched forward, her hands clasped. Morgan said:
‘Then your job is only just beginning, Douglas. Then
you
,’ he pointed his cigarette at Makepeace, ‘probably have to jump on a plane to Paris. Spider stays with Anna and me to ride
shotgun.’ He paused, ‘In Paris there are plenty of small aircraft for hire. You rent us a plane. Anna, Spider and I arrive in Paris the next day. From Washington. We’re hoping like hell this won’t happen but I booked the seats this morning, in case.’ He paused. ‘You arrange for somebody to meet us at Paris airport. With a rented car. With a chauffeur’s cap on his head, so I can spot him easily. He drives us to the airfield, where you are waiting with the light aircraft. And you fly us to some
private
airstrip in Switzerland. Without, of course, going through immigration control.’
Makepeace was grappling with all this.
‘Switzerland?’ he complained – ‘What do we do in
Switzerland?’
‘But you must work out a good route from Paris airport to this airfield where you’re waiting, so the driver can shake off anybody following us. And a system whereby we can change cars to confuse them. That means you’ll have to get two more of your SAS pals over from England to help. Maybe three. To drive, and do whatever muscle-work is necessary.’
‘Do they come to Switzerland with us?’
‘They must be
prepared
to do so.’ He held up a finger. ‘The same money as you’re getting. Not a penny more.’
Makepeace stared at him worriedly.
‘
Paris?
…’ he complained. ‘But I don’t know Paris. I don’t even polly-voo the lingo, hopeless I was at school. Now,
Amsterdam
I know, and they all speak English in Amsterdam – but Paris? …’
Morgan looked at him, thinking.
‘This may be a good idea.’ He turned to Anna. ‘There’s a public telephone outside the toilets. Phone a travel agency. Not Thomas Cook’s. See if you can book us on a flight Paris to Amsterdam tomorrow night.’
‘Why don’t we fly direct to Amsterdam from America?’
‘If we’re spotted at Washington airport, boarding the flight for Paris, they’ll be expecting us to emerge from Paris airport. But we won’t emerge. We’ll go to the transit lounge, and board the flight to Amsterdam. They won’t be expecting us in Amsterdam.’