Дональд Уэстлейк: Castle in the Air

“Ah,” said Charles, and at once he pasted a welcoming smile to his face and even waved a little wave.

Arriving, out of breath, Andrew cried, “Thank Heaven we found you! The Germans stole the goods!”

His face richly expressive of shock, Jean said, “No!”

“We’ve trailed them,” Sir Mortimer said, “down the canal as far as the river. They have all the blocks in a small boat.”

Andrew said, “Have you seen them?”

Innocent, Jean said, “The Germans?” Then he turned to translate into French for the benefit of Charles and Renee. “They want to know if we’ve seen the Germans, in a small boat.”

Wide-eyed, curious and concerned, both Charles and Renee solemnly shook their heads, while Andrew and Sir Mortimer watched. Then Jean, still in French, said, “I am now explaining to you that the Germans found the loot and betrayed us all. You are now becoming shocked.”

Charles and Renee became shocked. “Terrible! Terrible!” cried Charles. “I am faint!” cried Renee.

Switching to English, Jean said, “This is terrible news, gentlemen. Whatever shall we do about it?”

Waving in the direction of Ile St. Louis, Sir Mortimer said, “Eustace and Bruddy and that Lida woman are searching off in that direction.”

Trying to hide his sudden worry, Jean said, “You think the Germans might have gone that way?”

Pointing back to where they had just come, Andrew said, “They certainly didn’t go over there.”

“Well,” Jean said, “if I were the Germans, I think I’d go over to the Left Bank and transfer the loot to a truck.”

Excited, Andrew said, “You might be right!”

“Yes,” Jean said. “Why don’t you two look over there, and Renee and Charles and I will check down toward the He St. Louis, just to be on the safe side.”

“You come with us,” Sir Mortimer said.

“Oh, I should stay with my own group,” Jean said, “don’t you think?”

“No,” Andrew said, “that’s a very good idea. You can translate for us.”

“Then we’ll all go together,” Jean said.

“No,” Sir Mortimer said. “Charles and Renee can check that island, and we three will do the other side of the river.”

Unable to think of an argument against this plan, and afraid to hesitate too long, Jean said, unhappily, “Very well. That’s what we’ll do then.”

“Good,” said Sir Mortimer. “Off we go.”

Turning to Charles and Renee, and switching to French, Jean said, “I have to go with them. You are supposedly checking the Ile St. Louis, while we check the Left Bank.”

With a little smile, Charles said, “The Ile St. Louis? We’ll be happy to check it.”

“I’m sure,” Jean said meaningfully, “I can trust you both.”

Renee, with her most girlish smile, replied, “But, of course, Jean.”

“Come along, come along,” Sir Mortimer said. “We’re wasting time.”

“Yes, certainly,” said Jean.

Sir Mortimer and Jean and Andrew moved off toward the cab, Sir Mortimer saying, “Jean, you drive.”

“Certainly,” said Jean.

Charles and Renee smiled at one another.

Rosa was just completing the job of refilling the boat with blocks when Angelo, out of breath but dangerous looking, came down the steep narrow steps and loomed over her. She didn’t see him until he said, with deceptive pleasantness, “How good of you to do all that work and not even ask for help.”

Rosa jumped with fright, nearly falling out of the boat. “Oh! Angelo! You startled me.”

“No doubt,” said Angelo.

Quickly recovering, Rosa said, “I changed my mind about the truck.”

“So I see.”

“I thought I might as well go ahead and load all this while waiting for you to come back.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Rosa, rather nervous, looked past Angelo up the steps: “Where’s Vito?”

Angelo smiled. “Would you like to wait for him?”

Rosa hesitated, considering the options. Angelo continued to smile down at her, until at last she returned his smile, saying, “Vito can catch up with us later.”

“Of course,” said Angelo, as he stepped down into the boat.

Vito, at the head of the narrow steps on the lie St. Louis, gazed forlornly down at where the boat and the wall of loot had so recently been. Words, even in Italian, failed him, and at last he turned away, just as Charles and Renee came smiling and hurrying around the corner.

Bump . Stare. Mutual understanding.

Charles pushed past Vito, staring down at the water at the foot of the steps. Behind him, Renee’s agonized voice said, “Charles? Is it—?”

Instead of answering, Charles turned and grabbed Vito in both hands, shaking him and yelling in his face, “Where is it? What have you done with it?”

Maintaining as much dignity as possible while being shaken like a maraca, Vito declaimed, “Unhand me, you big crook.”

“Don’t speak Italian at me, you miserable worm!”

“Charles!” wailed Renee, from the top of the steps. “Charles, they’ve taken it all!”

Still clutching Vito, Charles said to Renee, “He’ll tell me, or by Heaven—”

Struggling in Charles’ iron grip, Vito yelled, “Release me, you baboon!”

“ He doesn’t have it,” Renee said. “He wouldn’t be here if he did.”

Charles frowned, thinking about that.

“Let me go,” Vito announced, “or I shall be forced to strike you!”

“But if this old turd doesn’t have the goods,” Charles said, “who does?”

“The other Italians,” suggested Renee. “Rosa and Angelo.”

Recognizing the names out of the gabble of French, Vito jumped up and down excitedly in Charles’ hands, yelling, “Yes! Yes! Rosa and Angelo! They robbed us all!”

Nodding, releasing Vito, turning away from him as though he’d ceased to exist, Charles said to Renee, “Yes, you’re right. They must have followed us, the way we followed the Germans.”

“And doublecrossed Vito along with the rest of us,” said Renee.

Vito now clutched at Charles, trying to attract his attention again, saying, “Rosa. Rosa and Angelo, we have to find them.”

Distractedly pushing Vito off, Charles said, “We have to find them.”

“Yes, Charles,” Renee said. “Think. Think.”

The three of them moved slowly away from the steps, Charles thoughtful, Renee watching Charles, Vito darting around them like a frantic puppy.

Andrew, Sir Mortimer and Jean walked back to the taxicab, now parked on the Quai Saint Bernard on the Left Bank. Andrew and Sir Mortimer were both gloomy again, and Jean was also trying to simulate gloom. Jean it was who said, as they reached the taxi, “Well, we seem to have lost them for good.”

“Most unsporting,” Andrew said. “Most unfortunate.”

“I did not come all this way,” Sir Mortimer said, “to be made a fool of by Germans.”

“I know how you feel, Sir Mortimer,” Jean said, “but what are we to do?”

“Keep searching!”

“I’m afraid,” Jean said, with a Gallic shrug, “I don’t have your English sinew. I am prepared at this point to abandon all hope.”

Suddenly suspicious, Sir Mortimer frowned at the Frenchman: “You’re giving it up, are you?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Jean. “It has been a pleasure working with all of you, gentlemen, and only unfortunate that our high hopes have been dashed, but now that the inevitable hour of parting has come upon us—” And he extended his hand for a round of farewell shakes.

“Just one moment, there,” Sir Mortimer said.

Affable, innocent, Jean said, “Beg pardon?”

Andrew was also now frowning at Jean. To Sir Mortimer he said, “There’s something amiss about this Slyboots.”