James Chase: The Whiff of Money

“Yes... we have a deal,” he said finally.

Girland eyed him.

“Ten thousand tomorrow morning, and ten thousand when I have fixed this job?”

Dorey drew in an exasperated breath.

“Yes.”

Girland swung his legs off the settee and sat up. His face was alert now and his eyes bright.

“Come on... tell me. Just what is this job?”

Dorey picked up the movie projector....

“Do you understand how to work this? I don’t. I want you to see a film.”

“Oh, sure.” Girland got to his feet, set up the projector, wound on the film and then pulled the long, gold-coloured curtains over the big studio window.

“Nice, aren’t they?” he said, fingering the material. “Again, thanks.”

“Get on with it!” Dorey snapped. I can take just so much from you, Girland, but I warn you...”

“Dorey! That’s temper!”

“Look at this film and stop behaving like a delinquent!”

Girland laughed. He switched on the projector, throwing the picture on his white wall. He flopped back on the settee and watched what went on on the film.

When he realised the kind of film he was looking at, he muttered, “Dorey! You surprise me!” Then he said nothing further, but sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching the girl and the hooded man in their shameless act.

Finally the film ran off the spool. Girland got up, turned off the projector and pulled back the curtains.

He returned to the settee and lay on it.

“Go ahead and talk. I don’t imagine you brought this thing along for me to see for fun. What’s it all about?”

“There are three other films like this,” Dorey said. “I must find them. I also, want to find the girl in the film. That’s the job, Girland. Do you think you can trace these films and find the girl? Try to be honest with me. The films were taken in Paris so I presume the girl is here too. How about it?”

Girland rubbed his hands on his knees as he studied Dorey.

“What’s the rest of it?”

“That’s as much as you need know,” Dorey snapped. “You will be paid.”

“Oh, cut it out! If I handle this, I want the whole photo. Why are you mixed up in this?”

“That’s not your business, Girland. I want you to trace these other three films and find the girl... that’s what you’re being paid for.”

Girland got up, took a cigarette from a pack on the table and lit it.

“How’s our future President keeping these days, Dorey? Is he free from trouble and worries... is he happy?”

Dorey started as if he had been stung.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “What has...?”

“Come off your ladder!” Girland said impatiently. He returned to the settee and sat down, facing Dorey, his eyes probing and hard. “You forget I get around in this city. You forget I was once one of your dreary agents. You forget I meet and see lots of people you have never heard of. That girl on the film is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States... God help them! No wonder you’ve come here offering me all this money. Well, Dorey, for perhaps the first time in your life, you have done the right thing, coming to me. This job is right up my cul-de-sac. Now don’t look like a turkey with colic. She’s Sherman’s daughter, isn’t she?”

Dorey drew in a long, slow breath.

“Do you know her?”

“I’ve seen her... I don’t know her. I ran into her at a pot party. She was stoned. Some little wasp whispered in my ear that she was Sherman’s daughter. This would be three months ago... probably more.”

“Do you know where to find her?”

“That’s not answering my question. She is Sherman’s daughter, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Dorey hesitated, then plunged on, “Sherman is being blackmailed. He’s been warned to stop running for the Presidency or three more films will be mailed to the Opposition Party. They will not only wash him up as President, but they will utterly ruin him. He came to me for unofficial help. I come to you.”

Girland thought for a long moment, his face expressionless.

“It takes some time to dig the facts out of you, doesn’t it?” he said finally. “So for twenty thousand dollars, Sherman hopes to become President of the United States with me doing his dirty work.”

“Isn’t it enough?” Dorey asked, looking anxious.

“Oh yes, but I’m wondering if I want to help him. I don’t like him. I may be out of your racket now but I listen and hear things. I know he tried to get rid of his daughter. I don’t dig for that. He is a creep who yearns for power and anyone who gets in his way, goes down the hole. I don’t like his politics. I wouldn’t vote for him. I wouldn’t tell him the time if he asked me.”

Dorey said quietly, “Would you put the projector in its case for me? I see I am wasting my time with you, Girland.”

As he got to his feet, Girland said, “Don’t be so touchy. You know I’ll do the job. You know if the money is big enough, I’ll do any job. You get off. Leave the film with me. I’ll let you know something in a day or so.”

Dorey regarded him.

“It’s a deal then?”

“Oh, sure.” Girland sounded bored. “I’m always a sucker for money.” He suddenly grinned. “I want ten thousand dollars in traveller’s cheques right here tomorrow morning. I’ll trust you to pay the balance when the job is done.”

“I’ll arrange it.” Dorey put on his overcoat. “I don’t have to remind you to be careful... if there is the slightest leak...”

“On your way.” Girland waved to the door. “This is my pigeon now. You don’t have to remind me about anything.”

Max Lintz was tall and bony. He had recently come from East Berlin to work for the Soviet Security in Paris. Nearing fifty years of age, balding with deep-set eyes and a thin, sour mouth, he was known to be an expert tracker of men and an expert pistol shot.

Drina liked him. They were of the same age and they got along well together. Whereas Paul Labrey, because of his youth and his manner, often made Drina boil with fury, Lintz had a soothing effect on him.

They were sitting at a café near Girland’s apartment, waiting.

“Would you prefer to follow Dorey?” Lintz asked suddenly. I will take care of Girland... if you wish.”

Drina shifted, frowning. This remark implied that he wasn’t capable of following Girland and he looked sharply at Lintz.

“We obey orders, comrade. I am to watch Girland. Comrade Kovski said so.”

Lintz shrugged.

“As you will, but be careful. Girland is a professional.”

Again Drina shifted in his chair.

“So am I.” He stared suspiciously at Lintz. “Don’t you think so?”

Although Lintz liked Drina, he secretly thought he was well past his prime. He thought Kovski had made a mistake using Drina to watch a man like Girland, but that was Kovski’s business.

“Of course,” he said.

There was a long pause. Drina sipped his cooling coffee and stared at the entrance to Girland’s apartment block.

“I hear Malik is in Paris,” Lintz said, “and in disgrace.”

“Yes.” Drina’s little eyes surveyed the café’s terrace. There was no one within hearing distance. “A wonderful man... the best.”

“Yes. It can happen to any of us.”

“Girland tricked him.”

“So I heard. How long do you think Malik will remain out of the field?”

Drina hesitated. Again he assured himself no one was listening.

“Kovski hates him.”

“Of the two men,” Lintz said softly, I prefer Malik.”

This was too dangerous, Drina thought. He merely shrugged his fat shoulders. He loathed Kovski and was terrified of him.

Kovski, to his thinking, was the jackal to Malik’s lion.