Алистер Маклин - Prime Target

‘I travel in Latin America.’ Philpott threw them a meaningful look. ‘One soon develops a taste for the culinary styles of such regions.’

They talked about food and drink and other superficial matters until the waiter came and took their order. Then Chadwick waded in with business.

‘We’ve had time to think about what you told us,’ he said, ‘time to get it into some kind of perspective. Now we need to know the level of nuisance we’re likely to be dealing with. This Jonah Tait, is he what you would call the persistent kind?’

‘In what sense?’

‘I mean, in your knowledge of him, does he frighten easily?’

‘I suspect he doesn’t frighten at all.’

‘But has he been tested?’

‘A man like him is constantly up against opposition in New York. He doesn’t back off.’

‘So we can’t just lean on him and hope to get results.’

‘I wouldn’t say so.’ Philpott sipped his wine. ‘It’s the kind of situation where a man like Harold Gibson would have known what to do.’

The risk in saying that had been calculated. Chadwick and Pearce could easily be offended and even alienated. It was more likely, Philpott believed, that they would agree with what he implied, that Gibson had been the action man in their outfit.

‘He always knew the remedy that would fit the case,’ Chadwick said. ‘I have to hand him that.’

‘Part of my reason for coming to Texas, as you know, was to shadow Mr Tait,’ Philpott said. ‘I was not sure what I would do to obstruct him, but I did know I had to be on hand to try something, should he get out of hand.’

‘So what’s he doing right now?’ Pearce said. ‘We know he’s staying out at the Comfort Inn on West Kingsley, but his movements are pretty low-key.’

‘He’s putting the finishing touches to his book. He’s got your pictures, he’s got the names of local institutions and individuals, he has details of times and dates he needed to fill out the text.’

Chadwick sat back, absently massaging his stomach. ‘This book, could it harm the reputation of anybody besides Harold Gibson?’

‘It could hurt all of Mr Gibson’s associates, and not just their reputations,’ Philpott said. ‘If I may be blunt…’ He paused, waiting for their assent.

‘Go ahead,’ Chadwick said.

‘I happen to know of Mr Gibson’s connection with the Jugend von Siegfried–’

Pearce slapped the table. ‘I told you.’ He looked at Chadwick. ‘People were bound to find out.’

‘Shut it, Emerett.’

‘Harold was the business,’ Pearce said, ‘but he wasn’t such a whizz when it came to keeping a lid on. Not a week before he got killed, I said the same thing I’m saying now.’

‘People don’t know,’ Philpott said. ‘I promise you that. I know because I am first of all a sympathizer, also because I have access to levels of, shall we say, power play, which are shut off from even the average diplomat.’

‘You were going to be blunt about something,’ Chadwick said.

Philpott leaned forward. ‘A record of payments made to the Siegfried people has fallen into Tait’s hands. He intends to use it. I am also reliably informed that he intends to name you both as accessories to the killing of Emily Selby, a White House employee who was shot recently in London by a–’

‘By a hired gun that Gibson should never have gone anywhere near,’ Pearce said. ‘Hell, I knew this would all blow back in our faces. The un-expected choice was Gibson’s idea of covering his tracks. Looks like it didn’t work.’

The food arrived. For ten minutes business was suspended and inconsequential talk was permitted to intervene. They chewed, enthused and reminisced. Chadwick had a long-standing love of down-home Mexican food such as fajitas, ceviche and carne asada; Pearce said he liked to eat at Mia’s, where he could get the best chiles rellenos in town. Philpott confessed to a weakness for French cuisine, particularly foie gras, shaved black truffles, veal with artichokes, and just occasionally, pepper-edged rack of lamb.

None of them finished his main course.

Chadwick was last to lay down his knife and fork. Abruptly, Jonah Tait was back on the agenda. Chadwick wanted to know, for his peace of mind, how Derek Beamish came to know so much about Tait’s movements.

‘Every politician knows,’ Philpott said, ‘that if a man’s life encroaches on other people’s lives, then that man’s life has no real secrets. Finding out the important things, the key facts, takes skill, but it really all boils down to keeping a wide range of contacts, and keeping them sweet.’ He held up a hand and counted off the fingers. ‘I know Tait’s bankers, his printers, the firm of lawyers representing his interests, and the landlord of the property he occupies in Greenwich Village. Collectively they let me know, without knowing they do it, about everything he does and most things he plans.’

Chadwick’s head was tilted to one side, as if he was trying to see something on Philpott’s face not visible at any other angle. ‘You haven’t said so, Mr Beamish, but would I be right in assuming this Tait fellow could hurt you as much as anybody?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re convinced he plans to hurt us, too?’

‘I told you. He could have you facing serious criminal charges.’

‘Well, maybe. We have decent lawyers hereabout, and the best of them represent me and mine whenever they’re needed.’

‘I took that for granted,’ Philpott said. ‘I still think Tait can do you harm. Try to see it coldly. First he destroys your reputation, then he goes on the legal tack, citing your financial support for organizations engaged in criminal activity – outfits like the Jugend von Siegfried, for one. He produces whatever evidence he has about the Emily Selby killing. And of course that starts the police digging, and you know what happens when they do that, they will always come up with more dirt, more long-buried skeletons. Something would be bound to stick, however good your lawyers may be.’

Pearce said, ‘When we talked to you before, you kind of hinted you would be prepared to take whatever steps were necessary to put a brake on this man. Were you serious about that?’

‘Of course.’

Chadwick said, ‘See, we don’t have your freedom to move. We’re businessmen. We occupy a marked spot on the map, we come under all kinds of scrutiny, most of it friendly, but it’s scrutiny all the same and if we change our patterns or make wrong moves, well, people notice. You, on the other hand, you’ve kept yourself close, you move around the globe, nobody has tracers on you.’

‘Tait has.’

‘Tait, he’s different, and what I’m saying is, you’re in a better position to do something about him than we are. You can take action without being watched while you do it.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What would it take to stop Jonah Tait?’ Pear ce said.

‘Well…’ Philpott pursed his lips. ‘Something extreme, I’m sure.’

‘Mother of God,’ Chadwick said. He was staring across the restaurant. ‘It’s him.’

Philpott nearly smiled at the timing. C.W. Whitlock was striding across the room, heading straight for their table. He wore a black leather jacket and a black crew-neck sweater. His expression was blank, but his eyes looked angry.

‘Hi there,’ he said, stopping at the table. He rested his fingertips on the stiff white cloth. ‘Pardon the interruption, I’ll only detain you gentlemen a moment.’

‘What do you want?’ Pearce snapped.

Whitlock smiled at him. ‘I’m leaving this fair city tomorrow and I thought I should stop by and thank you in person.’