Queen Victoria's Revenge (19 page)

“Now if you are through with that sort of thing you can come back upstairs. You two as well.” He stabbed a blunt finger at Esther and Isaj, who rose slowly. Isaj dropped his hand casually into his coat pocket and Willy called out sharply, “None of that. The last real customer left here ten minutes ago.”

It was true. The waiters arose from the kitchen with carving knives, the cook emerged behind them with a cleaver, while the remaining pseudo-clients turned cold northern eyes toward the Israelis, bicycle chains gliding from their pockets.

“They're pretty fast with those things,” Tony called out. “I think you better listen to him, Isaj.”

For a long instant the Israeli agent glared around at the advancing men, as though counting heads and counting bullets and doing a sum. The answer was not too good. In the end he shrugged and smiled, then tossed a small automatic onto the table. The nearest chain wielder scooped it up. Willy nodded.

“Much better. Now—everyone upstairs.”

It was crowded in the private dining room above, but no one noticed. Willy and the colonel were seated behind the table once again, with Tony and the two Israeli agents facing them, as though prisoners before the bar. Indians and Scots were around the walls, with one uncomfortable-looking Cuban, Jorge, in their midst. It was a grim gathering indeed.

“Well now,” Willy said, steepling his fingers before him on the table in schoolmaster fashion, metal-rimmed glasses glinting. “I have a few questions for you, Mr. Hawkin. The colonel here swears on his honor that you know where the money is.”

“He's a liar.”

“Really? You told me that once before—but you also had some of the skyjacked notes with you at the time. Yes, still there? Uncle Tom reported their existence. That's better, just reach into your pocket slowly and hand them over. A good beginning—now where are the rest?”

“I have no idea. That's all I have and I took them from the colonel.”

“I find that hard to believe. If you are so innocent, why did you visit Uncle Tom tonight and offer to sell him the rest of the money? It is only by chance that we interceded in time. The colonel and I have reached an impasse and a sort of agreement. Therefore we returned to London earlier this evening and were unpleasantly shocked to find all of the colonel's men imprisoned in his own house. Jorge revealed your interest in Uncle Tom and we took it from there…”

“The second phone call.”

“Correct. Since Massoud here was to be involved in the transport of the money, and also feels hurt at being cheated, we arranged for everyone to meet here. Now, all the parties involved in this matter are gathered together and anxious to resolve it. I ask you again—and for the last time—where is the money?”

There was taut silence then, broken only by the squeak of an unoiled bicycle chain, and Tony looked around the room. Where
was
the money? All of the interested parties seemed to be in this room. The Al Fatah agent who had arranged for the weapons, the Scots and Cubans who had skyjacked the plane, the fence who was to take care of the money, the FBI agent who had delivered the money, the Israeli agents who had helped the FBI man who had delivered the money to the …

He stopped and shook his head. It was all here—or was it? One piece was still missing, one element. What?

Then, in a single clang of insight, the rolling steel ball of memory dropped through the hole in the pinball machine of logic and all of the lights lit up. Of course!

Tony looked about the room again and smiled sweetly at the glowering assemblage. He held his hand before him and examined his nails, then buffed them on his arm. “I think I can answer that question,” he said. “But I would like a few promises first.”

“I promise to cut your swinish throat from ear to ear,” the colonel hinted.

“Tell him to shut up or I won't go on,” Tony said to Willy. “He's a liar and I can prove it. That bundle of money I took from him was brought to him from the plane by Jorge there, taken out of the suitcase before Angus spirited it away. I heard Ramon tell him it was for the fence. Go ahead—ask Jorge if that isn't true.”

“He doesn't speak English.”

“Then have the colonel ask him. I'll sort of listen to the colonel to make sure he asks the right question. Go on, colonel.”

Juarez-Sedoño hurled a poison-dripping glare at Tony but had no choice once the bicycle chains began to whistle ominously. Jorge had heard his name mentioned and was pallid with fear, only too willing to nod in agreement when the question was put to him. Tony nodded as well.

“Good. Now we know that the colonel was lying and I don't have the money. Am I permitted to ask what agreement you came to with him?”

“A simple one,” Willy said. “We both agreed that Angus was a little greedy in trying to take all the money for the Scots' cause, noble as that cause be. It was decided that we work together to recover the money, then take the fifty-fifty split originally agreed upon. Though I don't know now, the colonel is such a crafty one.”

“It was agreed, we shook hands,” the colonel said.

“We did and I'll abide by it because I'm a man of honor even when dealing with a snake. Continue, Hawkin.”

“Right. The only lead any of us had to the identity of the thief and killer was the fact that it was a fence. I heard you say that, Willy. That's why I went to see Uncle Tom. It was a dead end—in more ways than one. The only other clue we have is the license number of the car the killer escaped in.”

“Aye, we're still working on that. It's not easy.”

“It's easy enough for us,” Esther said, her clear voice cutting through the thick air and causing all the heads to swivel in her direction. “We have better contacts than you have. The police. We have friends. We didn't say why but we had them search the records. The answer came in a little while ago—after we parted, Tony,” she said in his direction, smiling. “It's simple. There is no such number registered in the British Isles.”

A miasma of gloom settled on the crowded room; the trail was growing murkier all the time. “We have another clue,” Tony said. “Didn't anyone see the murderer when he arrived?”

“We all did,” Willy muttered. “It was a man, I guess, for all we could tell. Dark trousers, dark boots, a Gannex mac, dark hat, scarf around his face, dark glasses, average height, average build, plenty of clothes on, couldn't tell a thing. Could have been the Queen herself for all we knew.”

“Let's eliminate suspects then.” Tony ticked them off on his fingers. “It wasn't Willy because I was in the room next door with him. The colonel had fainted by the dock and the rest of the Cubans were hightailing it out of town. The Israelis didn't know about Scotland yet.”

“What about
her?”
the colonel shouted, stabbing a finger in Jasmin's direction. “She could have done it.”

Jasmin quailed. “Nevair! I was in beauty parlor all that afternoon.”

“A weak alibi.” The colonel flared his nostrils and glared monoptically.

“But a true one,” Esther said sweetly. “We were trailing this Egyptian cow and, for all the good it did, that's where she was all right.”

Tony waited until the screamed insults subsided before he continued. “That takes care of everyone in this room other than Massoud.”

“I was cooking banquet! Ask the happy customers I served. It is not my way, I do not do this sort of thing, I receive, pay cash, sell, a businessman simply.”

“It could have been another fence,” Willy said.

“Never! We do not do that, and no one knew but Uncle Tom and I. No one else in this country would touch a thing like this, no one knew…”

“I tend to agree with Massoud,” Tony said. “He wasn't the one who did it. It was someone else. And I think I know who,” He had their attention now, oh yes he did. Then why was he sweating? He knew perfectly well why he was sweating. If this didn't work there would be the swish of bicycle chains, the bark of guns. Don't think about that! “I said I
think
I know who, but before I tell you I want a deal…”

“No deals,” Colonel Juarez-Sedoño shouted. “If he knows I can get it out of him. Someone hand me a gun, even a whip.”

Willy made a gesture with his hand and one of the Scots pushed the colonel back into his chair, where he frothed noisily. “What kind of a deal are you thinking of?”

“A cut, a small cut, that's all. That money was put up by the United States Government on the promise of a number of Arab governments to pay them back. They have paid, all except one holdout, so the U.S. is two hundred thousand dollars short. That's all I want out of the two million—you can split the rest. I'll return that to the States so our records will be clear and the rest of the money will be someone else's problem. I'm not sure that my superiors will approve of this arrangement so I don't plan to tell them. I don't think you will either. This is between us, you and I, Willy. You have my word that I'll tell you everything I know and will lead you to the money—if you promise me my share.”

Willy thought for a moment, then nodded his head. “That seems reasonable enough—if you do have the information. You have my word on it.”

“That's good enough by me. Now I ask the important question. Who haven't we considered? The missing person?” He looked around at their blank stares and raised a tutorial finger. “We have been too busy thinking about a fence being the culprit because we were deliberately
led
to think that. What made you think a fence was there that afternoon, Willy?”

“Why—Angus himself told me.”

“And Angus got you into this plot in the first place. He also involved the colonel and I'll bet he was the one who contacted Jasmin. Now, knowing Angus as well as you do, do you think he was the sort of man who could come up with a complex international scheme like this, then pull it off?”

“Well, he was a good Scots patriot.”

“I'm sure of it. But the police think of him as a small-time thug as well. Isn't it just possible that he was acting as the front man for
someone else?
The secret master behind this entire scheme. Garcia may have known who this was as well, which is why Angus killed him. Then Angus was killed in return to keep the secret a secret forever. Who is that person? It becomes sort of obvious when we remember that there was someone else in Scotland the day of the murder. Someone very closely involved with the entire skyjacking…”

“Me lleva a la tisnada!”
The colonel was beating his clenched fists on the table; Tony smiled upon him beneficently.

“See, the colonel remembers and he is excoriating himself for not having thought of it sooner…”

“The pilot of the aircraft!” the colonel moaned.

Tony looked around with appreciation at the open mouths of incomprehension that gaped about the room. “Let me explain. Early in the morning of the killing the colonel and I had breakfast with Captain Haycroft at the train station in Glasgow. He seemed put out to see me there and did not want to talk to the colonel. He ate quickly and hurried away. In plenty of time to obtain a car and some kind of false license plates, undoubtedly already arranged, to get to Carradale ahead of us. And do you know what he said he was doing in Scotland? Looking through the mug books to see if he could identify any of the skyjackers. He said the police had sent him there. But I had seen many more of the men who got the money from the car and Scotland Yard only asked
me
to look at the books they had in London. Which means Haycroft was lying.”

“It is possible, very possible,” Willy agreed. “The captain knew the route of the ship and could make all necessary arrangements. He might have checked the airfield to see if he could land his aircraft. Then he did find it and land it safely. He was in the position to arrange and supervise the whole thing from under cover, even have his own hostess employed where he could watch her.”

“He did it!” Jasmin shouted, jumping to her feet. “All the time so noble, the
cochon.
I was told to get the arms into the locked rest room, that was all, and I did so. Yet the captain was the one who found it inoperable and he locked it himself. We must take him, make him reveal the money, Al Fatah will have its share—we did our part, we were promised.”

“We will divide the money once we have it in our hands,” Willy judged, Solomon-like. “Where is the captain now?”

Jasmin pointed to the shrouded window. “There, with the airplane. He stays nearby and supervises the arrangements to remove the ship. I can show you the house—for our share.”

“That will be discussed in private, and the same goes for you, Massoud. I imagine you still want to fence the notes?”

“You are mad!” Massoud said, backing away and pushing back invisible money. “I will not touch it! Everyone knows, the FBI, the Israelis, it will be shouted from street corners soon, I am out of business forever and, P.S., a fine curry restaurant is for sale cheap since I return to Calcutta tonight…”

“All right, don't get excited,” Willy cozened. “Just keep your mouth shut about this business and we'll all do the same. We're getting out of here now and we're going down to Kent to pay a call on the captain. And I'm warning all of you not to play any of your Arabic-Jewish-Cuban-American tricks. My boys will be watching you closely for the cause of bonny Scotland.” Murmured
ochs
and
ayes
and rattled bicycle chains echoed his words. “Right then, all understood. We'll move out now, a few at a time, a couple of the lads will be close to each of you.”

Three by three they went slowly from the Taj Mahal, each shrinking foreigner shepherded by two steely-eyed and iron-thewed sons of Caledonia. The presence in central London of all these magnificently muscled Scots was explained when they emerged and found a great long bus at the curb outside, single-decked and sleek, high-wheeled and shining. Painted down the side in bold letters was the legend
LOCH LOMOND TOURS (SCOTLAND) LTD
. The driver gave Willy a toothless grin and a thumbs-up salute as they boarded. Willy looked grim nevertheless.