This is For Real (20 page)

“He knows about Fantaz, but you have guessed that, haven’t you?” She half sat up to stub out her cigarette. “He knows about Kerman too.” She looked at him. “You are working for Radnitz, aren’t you?”

Girland stared at the glowing end of his cigarette, frowning.

“Malik knows that too,” Janine said.

“He’s quite a bright boy, isn’t he?” Girland said, an edge of anger in his voice. “Well, he’s right. Yes, I am working for Radnitz. I didn’t have much choice. Not that I’m excusing myself. I’m sick of working for a mean little miser like Dorey. Radnitz has offered me fifty thousand dollars to find Carey. Carey has a microfilm that Radnitz wants. Why should I care? He’s willing to pay for it. Dorey would never offer money like that.”

“Money means a lot to you?”

He nodded.

“I have wasted ten years of my life fooling with people like Dorey. I have about five hundred dollars in the bank to show for those years. Yes, money means a lot to me.”

“I have money, Mark. You and I could go away and get lost. You wouldn’t have to take Radnitz’s money. You might even learn to love me.”

“Stop it,” Girland said, gently. “You know that wouldn’t work out.”

She lifted her slim hands and studied them. Her lips were trembling.

“I suppose you’re right. I really don’t know what I’m going to do … now.”

Girland stared at her, suddenly realising her position.

“Do you think Kerman will report to Dorey his suspicions that you are a double agent?”

“I suppose so. He is shrewd. He can tell Dorey enough for Dorey to check on me, but I’m not really worried about Dorey.”

“But Malik doesn’t know you’re telling me all this. Do you have to worry about him?”

“I’m supposed to take you to his place tonight. It’s an order. I am to tell you my friend Hilda is throwing a party and she wants to meet you. Now Malik knows Fantaz is Carey’s contact, he plans to get rid of you.”

“Some time tonight or tomorrow morning, Fantaz will contact me,” Girland said. “Tonight, I am tied up with a business meeting. I will be happy to come to Hilda’s place tomorrow night. By then I should be on my way to find Carey. Tell Malik that.”

“He wants you there tonight. It’s an order.”

“Tell him I will come tomorrow night,” Girland repeated. “He’ll wait. It won’t be your fault I am tied up. He’ll see you can’t press me without raising my suspicions.”

“Yes. All right.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I want to get away from all this, Mark, but I don’t see how I can do it.” She gave a resigned shrug. “Well, I’m not going to bother you with my troubles.”

Girland got up and sat on the bed by her side.

“Why in the world did you hook up with the Russians?” he asked, taking her hand.

“You’ve never been bored, have you? They say the devil finds work for idle hands. I turned to the Russians because I was so bored with Dorey. I wanted adventure and danger … well, I have them now.” She smiled at him. “I don’t like them as much as I thought I would.”

“Why don’t you take tomorrow’s plane back to Paris? Just chuck it. Tell Dorey you’re not working for him any more. If Malik contacts you, tell him the same.” He knew he was talking nonsense. Once an agent always an agent until those you worked for had no further use for you, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say to her.

“I might.” She slid her arms around his neck. “Love me a little, Mark. It won’t be for much longer. Don’t talk any more … just love me.”

The hidden microphone that had transmitted every word they had said to the revolving spools of a tape recorder in the room next door now recorded her soft moans of pleasure as Girland joined his body with hers.

A little after four o’clock, the Paris plane touched down and taxied to the arrival centre. A few minutes later, passengers began passing through the Police Control.

Two men … one tall, dark and hatchet-faced, the other short and fat … moved along with the crowd, each carrying a light hold-all, their cheap tropical suits ill-fitting and obviously bought in a hurry.

The fat man as he moved towards the Police Control was staring around him with rounded eyes. He particularly gaped at the massively built African women who were waiting beyond the barrier to welcome their friends coming off the plane. Their brilliant clothes, their gold ornaments and their ceaseless chatter seemed to intrigue him. His companion, his cold dark face expressionless, didn’t even look at them. This was the first time Borg had been to Africa. Everything he saw delighted him.

Once through the Police Control and the Customs, the two men walked side by side out of the airport building and into the violent afternoon sunshine.

“Did you see those women?” Borg asked excitedly. “Man, oh, man! All that black meat! Imagine …”

“Shut up!” Schwartz said without looking at him. He set down his bag and looked from right to left. An African, wearing a red uniform approached.

“The N’Gor Hotel, sir?” he asked.

Borg nodded.

“The bus is waiting,” and the African pointed. “Leaving in five minutes.”

The two men walked to the bus, bought tickets and climbed in. There were several other people in the bus, mostly American and French business men.

Borg settled himself beside Schwartz and stared out of the window.

Late the previous evening Radnitz had received a cable from Girland. Its contents had been so vague and unsatisfactory, he had called Borg to the George V Hotel.

“You are to go with Schwartz to Dakar on the morning plane,” he said. “Find out what Girland is doing. He’s wasted enough time. Report back to me by cable when you have talked to him.”

Borg now wished he had a better travelling companion. He was prepared to enjoy himself, but how could anyone hope to enjoy himself with this kiss of death, in his hair?

During the short drive to the hotel, he gaped at the hawks floating just above the sea, at the herds of goats moving slowly along the beach, at the flat fishing boats and at the women. Every now and then, he whistled softly and punched his fist into the open palm of his hand.

But it was no good attempting to share his excitement with Schwartz who stared stonily ahead of him, not looking at the view, his mind preoccupied with his own mysterious thoughts.

At the hotel, Borg checked in. Radnitz’s secretary had already telephoned for two reservations and there was no difficulty.

As Borg completed the police cards for them both, he asked, “Have you got Mr. Gilchrist staying with you?”

“Yes, sir.” The clerk turned to look at the keyboard. “He should be in.”

“Call him, will you?”

The clerk picked up the telephone receiver and rang Girland’s room.

It was at this moment that Girland, in Janine’s room, had taken her in his arms. He didn’t hear the telephone bell ringing in his room. If he had, he would have let it ring.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk said, hanging up. “There’s no answer. It is possible, Mr. Girland is on the beach or has gone out, taking his key with him.”

“Okay,” Borg said. “I’ll be up in my room. When he comes in, call me, will you?”

“Certainly, sir.”

A girl wearing a bikini, an open beach wrap over her shoulders came up to the desk and asked for her key. Borg stared at her, then pursed his lips with a soundless whistle.

As he followed the porter to the lift, Schwartz moving behind him, Borg decided he was going to enjoy himself here.

Lieutenant Ambler led Kerman into a small room, equipped with a desk, two chairs and a green telephone.

“That’s the scrambler,” he said. “Shut yourself in. You won’t be interrupted. Anything else you want?”

“Not right now, Lieutenant, maybe later,” Kerman said as he sat down.

“Just say the word.” Ambler nodded and left the room.

Kerman put a call through to Dorey’s office. Then taking out a notebook and putting a pencil on the desk, he waited impatiently for the connection.

Three minutes later, he heard Dorey’s voice, coming clearly to him from Paris.

“Kerman. I’m calling from the Embassy, Dakar. Let’s scramble, Mr. Dorey.” He pressed the scrambler button.

“I’m scrambled,” Dorey said. “What’s been happening?”

“Plenty.” Kerman lit a cigarette. “I’ll try to give this to you as it happened. Stop me if you want to ask questions.” Carefully and with detail, he told Dorey of his meeting with Janine at the airport and then all the subsequent happenings.

He could hear Dorey’s light breathing and now and then a rustle of paper as if Dorey were taking notes.

“Give me a description of this so-called Dane,” Dorey broke in suddenly.

“He’s quite a boy. About six foot four, big with it, silver blond hair, green eyes, good looking, and if he’s a Dane, then I’m General de Gaulle.”

There was a long pause.

“That’s Malik,” Dorey said finally. “One of the top Russian agents. I’ve seen him. It’s Malik all right.”

“Well, there you are,” Kerman said. He knew Malik by reputation as most American agents did. “So … what do you think?”

“Janine was actually with him?”

Kerman moved impatiently.

“I saw them in the car together. We’ve got to face facts, Mr. Dorey. Looks like Janine is a double agent, and you can bet your last dollar which side she’ll come down on when the red light goes up. What do you want me to do?”

Dorey, sitting at his desk, his files spread out before him, had a sick cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Janine! A double agent! He couldn’t believe it. He had trusted her utterly during the past year. He and she had discussed Top Secret problems. He had shown her files meant only for his eyes. His fingers gripped the telephone receiver until they began to ache.

There was still a chance that Kerman had been mistaken. Perhaps Malik had known she was an American agent and was trying to get friendly with her. Maybe it was only that. To condemn her because she had been seen in a car with Malik … then he remembered what Kerman had said. She had been to this mysterious bungalow. So this was the second time she had seen Malik. Again he tried not to accept the evidence. Janine fell for handsome powerfully built men. She could have fallen into a trap set by Malik. It was possible she thought Malik was a tourist and was having fun with him.

“Mr. Dorey!” Kerman said impatiently. “What do you want me to do?”

“You haven’t real proof that she is working for Malik,” Dorey said desperately. “I know her better than you do. She’s unstable with men. She might have fallen for Malik not knowing who he is.”

“How come she isn’t watching the airport then? That’s her job out here. Why did she lose colour when she saw me after her drive with Malik?”

“There could be an explanation,” Dorey said. “I can’t believe she is working for them, Kerman. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m giving you the facts. It’s your business and your responsibility how you interpret them … not mine. What do you want me to do?”

“Go to the hotel right away, Kerman. See her. Tell her she is to come back here by tomorrow’s plane. Tell her I have another job for her to work on and I’m sending out a replacement. Don’t say anything to make her suspicious. Be friendly. Say you happened to be in the Embassy when I called and I told you to give her the message. Understand?”

“Suppose she won’t go back? Suppose Malik won’t let her?”

Dorey wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his hand.

“Then get Ambler to arrest her and have her flown back under escort.”

“Can do … will do,” Kerman said and hung up.

The telephone bell brought Janine awake. She sat up, her heart beginning to pound. She looked with frightened eyes at Girland.

He half raised himself on his arm, blinking a little, then nodded to the telephone.

“You’d better answer it.” He glanced at his watch. The time was twenty-five minutes to six.

Janine picked up the receiver.

“A Mr. Kerman asking for you, Madame,” the clerk told her. Janine hesitated, then said, “Ask him to wait in the bar. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”

Girland was already off the bed and dressing.

“Who is it?” he asked, slipping into his short-sleeved shirt.

“Kerman.”

“Think he’s been talking to Dorey?”

“I suppose so.” Janine got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Raising her voice above the sound of the shower, she said, “I’m not worrying about him. It’s Malik who worries me.”

Girland lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the bed. He waited until she came back, wearing bra and panties.

“Stall him for tonight,” he said. “Then do what I said: get the hell out of here. Go back to Paris.”

She looked at him, forcing a smile.

“You’re staying, Mark?”

“Yes. Now look, I’d better get off in case they’re watching the hotel. As soon as you get rid of Kerman, phone Malik. I’ll go into Dakar and I’ll be back sometime tonight. We’ll meet and see how it is working out. Okay?”

She went to him and put her arms around him.

“I love you Mark. You’re the first and you’ll be the last. You don’t know it but you’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care now what becomes of me.”

He looked at her, worried, then he kissed her. She clung to him for a brief moment, then pushed him away, smiling.

“Goodbye, Mark. Think of me sometimes.”

“Don’t get dramatic.” He frowned at her. “Nothing’s going to happen. By tomorrow I’ll be out of here with any luck and you’ll be on your way to Paris.”

“Yes.”

They looked at each other, then Girland went to the door, opened it cautiously, looked back at her, smiled and went quickly across the lobby to his room.

He strapped on the gun holster, put on his coat, checked to see if he had money and cigarettes, then left his room and took the lift to the reception lobby. As he handed in his key, the clerk said, “Excuse me, Mr. Gilchrist, two gentlemen were asking for you. Mr. Borg and Mr. Schwartz. Do you wish me to call their rooms?”

Girland kept the surprise from his face. So Radnitz was getting impatient, he thought. These two thugs could complicate things.

“Not right now,” he said. “I’m in a hurry. I’ll see them when I get back. I’m expecting a telephone call. If anyone asks for me will you tell him I shall be in the bar of La Croix du Sud Hotel?” He took a fifty franc note from his wallet and slid it to the clerk. “Don’t tell my friends upstairs where I’ll be. This is an important business date and I don’t want to be interrupted.”