1967 - Have This One on Me Read online

  Girland sipped his drink.

  ‘Is that all?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s the story ... that’s the problem. The money’s still there. I want someone like you to go to Prague, pick it up and bring it back here. We split the take. Fifteen thousand to you ... fifteen thousand to me.’

  ‘How do you know it’s still there?’ Girland asked.

  ‘It’s there. That’s the one thing I’m certain about. We hid it where no one would think of looking for it. It’s all in one hundred dollar bills ... three hundred of them. It doesn’t take up too much space.’

  ‘What gives you the idea I can get it if you can’t?’

  ‘They’re watching for me ... they aren’t watching for you. Maybe you don’t know it but Prague is the softest touch of the Iron Curtain. The Czechs are in a financial mess. They must have foreign currency so they love tourists. You go in as a tourist, stay two or three days, pick up the money and then come out. It’s that simple. They don’t even check the bags of tourists. I tell you ... they love them.’

  Girland stubbed out his cigarette while he thought, then he asked, ‘Suppose I do find the money, what makes you think you’ll ever see any of it?’

  Moss grinned.

  ‘It’s a gamble. I haven’t a hope of getting the money myself. So how am I worse off? It wouldn’t be that safe for you to gyp me. Sooner or later, I would catch up with you, and then you would be in trouble.’

  Girland leaned back in his chair, his smile widened.

  ‘Or you would be, Harry,’ he said. ‘I’m tricky when little boys like you try to make trouble.’

  Moss grinned amiably.

  ‘Oh sure. I’ve asked around. You’re tough, but I would have a try. Anyway, it’s a gamble. What do you say?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. Where’s the money hidden?’

  ‘I’ll tell you that when we meet at the airport and when you show me your air ticket.’

  ‘Who’s paying for the trip? I’ll need at least two thousand francs.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve thought of that. I can dig up two thousand francs.’

  ‘Well, I might do it,’ Girland said. ‘Suppose you call me tomorrow morning around ten o’clock?’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m not sold on the Iron Curtain. I don’t like it.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ Moss said. ‘You talk around. Anyone will tell you, for a tourist, it is dead easy.’

  ‘I’ll do just that. So long for now,’ and Girland left the room.

  Moss finished his drink. Then he went down to the Clubroom. Pushing his way to a telephone booth, he shut himself in He dialled a number. After a delay a curt voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘This is A for Apple,’ Moss said. ‘Your party is deciding by tomorrow morning. It’s my bet, he will go.’

  ‘I thought he would,’ Dorey said and hung up.

  * * *

  Girland was also telephoning. Opposite La Croix d’Or was a cafe. He had gone there immediately, and was talking to Bill Lampson of the New York Herald Tribune whose encyclopedic knowledge had often been useful to Girland.

  ‘Hi, Bill, I’m back,’ Girland said. ‘How’s life?’

  ‘Is that Girland?’ Lampson said. ‘Well, for Pete’s sake! I thought you were lost for good ... and I repeat ... for good.’

  ‘Don’t take it so hard Paris is big enough for both of us ... so what’s biting you?’

  ‘Nothing yet. How was Hong Kong?’

  ‘Fabulous!’

  ‘How were the girls?’

  ‘Fabulous!’

  ‘Is it true what they say about Chinese girls?’

  ‘If you mean what I think you mean the answer is no but they are definitely to be recommended,’ Girland thought of Tan-Toy. ‘I’ll say that again.’

  ‘Are you calling me to make me envious or is there something else?’ Lampson asked.

  ‘A little information. Bill. Can you confirm that there was an Army payroll robbery in West Berlin around three or four weeks ago?’

  There was a pause, then Lampson said, ‘Do you know something?’

  ‘I’m asking you. Bill. Don’t play hard to get.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. Two conscripted men got away with fifty thousand bucks.’

  ‘Know who they are?’

  ‘Harry Moss and Ferdy Newman. The cops are still looking for them. There’s a rumour they got behind the Iron Curtain. What’s all this about? You know something? Listen. Girland, this could be big news.’

  Girland gently replaced the receiver. So it looked as if Moss was telling the truth. Thirty thousand dollars! He walked thoughtfully to his car. What had he to lose? Moss said he would pay his expenses. Even if the money wasn’t there, a trip to Prague would be interesting. He decided he would go.

  He drove back to his apartment. There would be a visa to take care of, he reminded himself, but that shouldn’t take long.

  With any luck, he could get off in three or four days.

  He spent ten minutes circling before he found space to park his Fiat 500, then he started the long climb to his apartment.

  Finally, he reached the seventh floor. Here, he paused.

  The girl in the red stretched pants was sitting on the floor, her back against his front door. She was hugging her knees, and she looked up at him with a cheerful, jeering smile.

  ‘Hello, boyfriend ... remember me? You’ve had a burglar.’

  Girland contained his irritation with an effort.

  ‘I told you to go,’ he said. ‘I’m busy right now. One of these days, when you have grown up, we could have fun, but not right now ... run away.’

  ‘Are your ears clogged with wax?’ the girl asked. ‘You have had a burglar.’

  ‘Okay, so I’ve had a burglar. Thanks. Up on your skates, kitten and disperse like a wisp of smoke.’

  ‘A big, heavily built man with a red, fat face,’ the girl went on, continuing to hug her knees. ‘He’s lost the lobe of his right ear. He was a pro. You should have seen the way he coped with your door lock. I was sitting on the stairs up there.’ She pointed a finger. ‘He didn’t see me. It was like a movie.’

  Girland became alert. A big, heavily built man with a missing right ear lobe had to be Oscar Bruckman, one of O’Halloran’s toughs. There couldn’t be two men with missing right ear lobes interested enough to break into his apartment.

  ‘I see at last you are showing interest,’ the girl said and levered herself to her feet. ‘My name’s Rima. Let’s go in and start afresh.’

  Ignoring her, Girland unlocked his front door and walked into his apartment. He looked around, then asked, ‘How long was he in here?’

  ‘Twenty minutes ... I timed him.’ The girl joined him and stared around the room. ‘I wouldn’t have thought there was anything worth stealing in this dump.’

  ‘Nor would I.’ Girland began to prowl around the room while the girl went over to the bed and sat on it.

  After a careful check, Girland decided nothing was missing.

  Bruckman’s visit puzzled him. Maybe, he wondered, Dorey had sent Bruckman in the hope of recovering some of the money Girland had lifted off him, but this seemed unlikely. Dorey couldn’t be that stupid as to imagine Girland would leave money in his apartment. Puzzled, irritated, Girland shrugged. It must be the answer, he told himself, Dorey’s thinking was always mean. He now became aware that Rima was in his bed, her clothes strewn on the floor. He looked at her exasperated and she smiled pertly at him.

  ‘Be big-minded.’ she said, ‘You can’t win all the time.’

  Women! Girland thought. She was right, of course, men never could win all the time ... not even most of the time, but just for the hell of it, he walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He ran down the stairs and into the street.

  When you are that young, that eager, that stupid, then a little frustration was good for the soul, he thought.

  He spent a dreary night in a fifth-rate hotel. Halfway through the night, as he tossed and turned, trying to sleep,
he remembered her as she posed half-naked before him.

  I need my head examined he thought, and angrily thumped the floppy pillow. Around five o’clock, he was still sleepless. He suddenly decided he was allowing his conscience to rule his life.

  He hurriedly threw on his clothes and went down to his car. Ten minutes later, he was climbing the seven flights to his apartment. No wonder, he thought, as he moved from stair to stair, I have no weight problem. He opened the door of his apartment and moved into the big room now dimly lit by the coming dawn.

  The bed was empty; the apartment was empty.

  Girland grimaced, then shrugged.

  He went to the bed, stripped off the sheets and bundled them in a heap on the floor, then he undressed, took a shower and lying on the bare bed, he went to sleep.

  Oscar Bruckman stood before Corey’s desk, his thick fingers holding his hat behind his back.

  O’Halloran, Bruckman’s immediate boss, stood looking out of the window, chewing a dead cigar Dorey, seated at his desk, fiddled with a paper knife.

  There was an uneasy tension in the room.

  Dorey said, ‘I don’t know why it is but when I plan an operation - somewhere along the line there is a mistake.’ His voice was low and angry. ‘I have had a report from O’Brien. He has failed. Worthington is still alive.’

  O’Halloran turned from the window.

  ‘We can’t blame O’Brien. Cain’s information came too late.’

  ‘That’s the usual excuse. Now Malik on the scene and O’Brien has been kicked out. He can’t go back. If Malik catches up with Worthington and I suppose he is sure to eventually, then I lose two valuable agents.’

  O’Halloran had nothing to say to this. He and Bruckman exchanged glances and waited.

  ‘Well, at least Girland seems to be going to Prague,’ Dorey went on. ‘This is something I handled myself.’ His angry eyes, slightly magnified by his bifocals, moved to Bruckman. ‘What have you to report?’

  Bruckman was pretty pleased with himself. He had done his job well.

  ‘I went to Girland’s apartment,’ he said. ‘I planted the envelope you gave me in his suitcase. Unless he takes the case to pieces, he won’t find it, but they will once they have picked him up.’

  ‘You’re sure no one saw you break into his apartment?’ Dorey asked sharply.

  Bruckman suppressed a superior smile, knowing Dorey wouldn’t stand smiles from him.

  ‘I am sure, sir.’

  Dorey brooded, then relaxed.

  ‘Maybe I’d better explain this operation,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘We want to get Latimer into Prague so we use Girland as a smoke screen. Malik’s there and he knows all about Girland. He will assume Girland is our replacement. My problem was how to get Girland to go to Prague.’ Dorey picked up his paper knife and examined it, then went on, ‘A month ago, two conscripted men stole an Army payroll in West Berlin. Their names are Harry Moss and Ferdy Newman. They got to Prague. Newman was killed by the Czech police and Moss is now in jail. I have a young nephew here who is attending Dramatic School. I satisfied myself he could impersonate Harry Moss. He contacted Girland and spun him a yarn I had prepared. Girland apparently has fallen for it. He is going to Prague to collect what he imagines is the stolen payroll. It is necessary that he should find the money in Prague. This is part of the operation.’ He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a package, wrapped in brown paper and sealed with Sellotape.

  ‘This contains thirty thousand dollars.’ He looked at Bruckman. ‘You are to go to Mala Reid’s apartment and plant this package somewhere where she won’t find it. Girland will then be told where to find it. As soon as Girland finds the money you will call the Security Police anonymously and tell them that Girland has this money to pay for information he hopes to get from Worthington’s contacts. They will of course, immediately go to his hotel, find the money and the envelope you have planted on him. The papers in the envelope will tell them that Girland is an agent. The police will turn him over to Malik who will assume Girland has replaced Worthington. While this is happening, Latimer will fly in. That is the operation.’ He passed a sheet of paper to Bruckman. ‘These are your instructions. The operation has to be carefully timed. Now get off. When I know Girland is leaving for Prague, I will alert you Do nothing until you get my green light.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Bruckman said and picking up the packet and his instructions, he left the room.

  Dorey replaced the paper knife on his desk, then he looked at O’Halloran.

  ‘I wish Worthington was dead, Tim. He could complicate this.’

  ‘Without being asked, I think the whole operation is dicey,’ O’Halloran said bluntly. ‘I’ve always thought you underestimate Girland. You could run into trouble with him. We don’t even know for certain he will go to Prague.’

  ‘That is one thing I am certain about,’ Dorey said. ‘He’ll go.’

  O’Halloran shrugged. It was his way of showing he wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Okay. Let us assume he does go. He could get away with your money. He’s a very bright boy.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s so bright?’ Dorey said impatiently. ‘He’s a small time crook and he isn’t so bright. I am prepared to lose the money ... the Czechs will get it. Girland most certainly won’t. After all, it is Government money. The trouble with you, Tim, is you have an inferiority complex about Girland. I tell you ... he isn’t all that bright.’

  O’Halloran thought of the times Girland had swindled Dorey out of considerable sums of money, but he realised this wasn’t the time to remind Dorey.

  ‘Well, we’ll see what we’ll see,’ he said.

  Pleased with his planning, Dorey frowned at him, then pulled a file towards him. This was his well-known gesture of dismissal.

  * * *

  Worthington wound off the film, then opening the back of the camera, he took out the film cartridge.

  ‘You mustn’t look so worried,’ he said. ‘I will be gone in two days. Surely, we can get along together for so short a time?’

  Mala, by now, had become resigned to the fact that she was landed with him. She had got over the first initial shock, and she was prepared to help him if it meant that she would be rid of him quickly. She had taken twenty photographs of him. Looking through the reflex lens of the camera at his weak, scared face, she began to feel sorry for him.

  ‘I don’t know how we will manage,’ she said helplessly, ‘but I suppose we will.’

  He smiled at her. Regarding him, she decided he had been a lot more impressive with his moustache.

  ‘Of course we will ... two days ... I promise ... no more.’ He handed her the film cartridge and his British passport. ‘Would you take these to Karel Vlast? He has an apartment on Celetna ulice. He knows how urgent it is. He is old, but he is clever.’ Worthington stroked his upper lip experiencing a little start of surprise that there were no longer bristles to comfort him. ‘You know where it is? You take a tram.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mala hesitated, then she said ‘Would you go into the bathroom, please? I have to dress.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Worthington entered the bathroom and closed the door.

  He lowered the lid of the toilet and sat on it.

  Listening to her move around the room, he thought back to the time he had first met her. He had been alerted by Cain that there was a reliable woman agent in Prague who worked at the Alhambra night club. Cain said it would be safer for Worthington to pass his messages and information to her since Cain often went to the club and she would then pass the information to Cain. In this way. he and Cain need no longer meet.

  Worthington remembered his first visit to Mala’s apartment.

  He had with him what appeared to be a harmless shopping list, but that concealed, in invisible ink, information he wanted Cain to have. The moment he saw her, he had fallen in love with her. The comparison between her and Emilie was fantastic: one gross, stupid and disagreeable, the other, lovely, sl
im and gay. But he had never let Mala know his feelings. He kept reminding himself that he was so much older than she was and besides he was married.

  But during the two years they had worked together, he had become more and more infatuated by her. It hurt him that she was so indifferent to him, meeting him only as a means to make extra money.

  Since he had been in her apartment, he was finding their close association a great strain. He wanted her. His body ached for her, but he knew it would be fatal even to give her a hint of his love for her. Not once, during the time they had been together so intimately had she shown anything but a wish to see him gone.

  With a determined effort, he switched his mind to Vlast.

  He had first met him at a secret anti-communist meeting. Vlast had taken a liking to him. He said Englishmen were always reliable. They had talked After meeting several times, Vlast had confided to Worthington that at one time he had been a master engraver. He was now working a night shift as an elevator attendant at one of the better hotels. This work gave him his days free. Lowering his voice, he had said that if ever Worthington needed a passport, he should come to him. ‘You never know. There is no better man at the game than me.’

  At that time Worthington had been, very sure of himself, but he had filed this offer away in his mind. He knew there might come a time when he would have to leave Prague and with a false passport.

  Up to two weeks ago things had continued well for Worthington. He had an English Public School appearance and a pleasant manner. He was also an intelligent listener. Every now and then his pupils - professors, politicians. Civil servants - let slip information that he passed to Cain who, in his turn, passed to Dorey. Worthington had watched the dollars grow in his Swiss bank account. Then all of a sudden Malik, a giant with silver coloured hair, had appeared on the scene.

  Worthington knew this man was the most dangerous agent of the G.R.U., the Soviet Intelligence Service. Worthington had always been aware that he wasn’t made of hero material. When he heard that Malik had arrived in Prague, he began immediate preparations to leave. He contacted Vlast The old man agreed to fake a passport, but he wasn’t doing it for nothing. It took Worthington several anxious days to get together enough money by borrowing, dipping into his meagre savings and by persuading some of his more reliable pupils to let him have an advance. During those days, Worthington discovered he was being watched and he guessed Malik suspected him. He also realised another frightening fact. If he were arrested, he would be forced to betray Mala and Cain. The very thought of what Malik’s thugs would do to him to extract this betrayal from him sickened him. He knew he would be a babbling, screaming mine of information once in their hands. Dorey would know this. He hated Dorey. He had only met him once and he knew Dorey had distrusted him. Dorey valued Mala and Cain. So what would Dorey do? Sitting on the toilet seat, cigarette smoke staining his thin fingers, Worthington mentally shivered. Dorey would send someone to liquidate him. It was as simple as that. A dead mouth was a silent mouth. So now, he not only had Malik hunting for him, but also one of Dorey’s killers.