Роберт Фиш - The Wager

His bitter thoughts were interrupted by the telephone operator, informing him that his party was on the line. Jamison wet his lips and closed his eyes, imagining the conversation that was about to commence. He opened his eyes suddenly; it would probably be even worse in the dark.

“Hello, sir,” he said weakly.

“Jamison!” The ice-cold voice managed to emphasize the name without being raised one decibel above normal. Jamison could almost see the narrowed flintlike eyes, the jutting jaw, the thin bloodless lips, the Hoover collar, and the twiglike fingers restlessly twiddling a pencil.

“Sir?”

“What happened?” Jamison could also see the pencil being tossed aside and the hatchet face brought closer to the mouthpiece. “The morning newspapers report there was a burglary at the Ile Rocheux museum last night, and that a valuable carving was stolen. Is that the carving you’ve been raving about ever since this business began?”

“That was the one, yes, sir. It was a Chang Tzu T’sien—”

“I don’t care what it was! I thought according to your latest orders you were supposed to have Wilkinson there precisely to prevent the robbery! Were those or were they not your orders?”

“Yes, sir, they were, but—”

“Then where was Wilkinson?”

“He... he got sick in San Juan.”

“He what ?”

“Yes, sir. Lobster thermidor. So I took his place.”

“So where were you , then, during the robbery?”

“I—” Jamison swallowed. “I—”

“Well, man, speak up!”

“I was there, sir...”

There was a moment’s silence. Then a Gargantuan sigh came across two thousand miles of cable. “You are telling me that a museum was robbed under your very nose? With two guards there, as well? Is that what you are trying to tell me?”

“What happened, sir—”

“Just answer the question! Is it true that a museum was robbed while you were there, and a carving stolen you were supposed to protect? With two guards there as well? Yes or no!”

“Well, yes, sir, but—”

“And you want me to believe it was just an accident?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Jamison answered fervently. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a gang, sir—”

“A gang?”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison felt his confidence returning as he pictured the events of the previous evening and went on to explain them, sure he could convince his superior. “You see, sir, the lights suddenly went out; we later found the fuse box in the basement had been tampered with, knocking out the floor alarm system as well. And we found where we think the gang went out, too, sir. It was downstairs, in the rear. There must have been three or four of them, from all the yelling. No, sir!” Jamison said positively, now almost recovered. “It was this man Huuygens, sir, without a doubt.”

Disbelief marked every word of his superior. “I thought the poop sheet on Huuygens says he always works alone?”

“Well, sir, it’s true that’s what the sheet says, but he must have changed his modus operandi —”

“ Will you stop using those words! Ever since you were stationed in Port Everglades and caught that one single woman with heroin in her earrings, you consider yourself a detective! You also know the sheet says that Huuygens does not resort to burglary. Or to violence.”

“There’s always got to be that first burglary for every crook,” Jamison said stubbornly, and thought with bitterness that so far the only violence that had occurred had occurred to him, which wasn’t fair. “This has all the earmarks of Huuygens, sir. It—”

“What earmarks?”

“Well, sir, the whole gang spoke French. I think—”

“Eighty million Frenchmen speak French,” the cold voice pointed out and considered. “Probably a lot more, now. I was thinking of a few years back.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison plowed bravely on. “But in Port Everglades Huuygens didn’t come back to the ship, and the things in his cabin had been left intact. He didn’t take anything, not even his toothbrush, which you have to admit looks suspicious—”

His superior snorted. “He missed the ship, is all.”

“Yes, sir. I know he did. But he did it on purpose, I’m sure. And he didn’t catch it again in San Juan, like I did—”

The voice at the other end of the line was totally unbelieving. “ You missed the ship in Port Everglades, too?”

Jamison mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to admit that fact.

“What happened, sir, is I came back to the ship and looked all over for Huuygens, and I couldn’t find him. The man at the gangplank didn’t remember him coming back aboard and it started to get dark, so I went back down to the pier to see if maybe he was coming—”

“And the ship sailed out from under you!” The sigh came again, a bit despairingly. “You know, Jamison, I think you’d better come home. To face departmental charges, probably.”

“Charges, sir?”

“Exactly. Let me tell you what I think really happened.” There was a brief pause as the owner of the cold voice marshaled his facts. Jamison waited, miserable. Damn that Huuygens; this was all his fault! “All right, then, Jamison,” the cold voice said, “let me refresh your memory. One month ago our department received a tip from a man who needed some money, a man who worked for Victor Girard as a bodyguard. Correct?”

“Yes, sir. He went broke in a gin rummy game. We paid him fifty dollars—”

“Don’t interrupt! I know what he got paid; you signed the voucher. If anything untoward happens in this case, that amount comes off your next paycheck. Now, according to your report, that tip told you that this Kek Huuygens was planning on bringing a stolen carving through Customs. Correct?”

“The informant said he thought that was what was being arranged—”

“He thought ?” It was unbelievable! “What kind of informants do you have, anyway? Don’t they even listen to the information they’re trying to sell?”

“He said he was still thinking about the gin rummy game, sir—”

“What about the second time Girard met with Huuygens?”

Jamison swallowed. “My informant was reading a magazine, sir—”

“Good God! Well, in any event, you’ve told me repeatedly you believed Huuygens meant to smuggle the carving into the States, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jamison said firmly. “I still do. More than ever.”

“We’ll come to that later. And at the time you received this so-called tip, I believe you were in favor of the burglary being allowed to take place, so you could catch this Huuygens in the act of smuggling and be rid of him once and for all. Right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And I told you at that time that the Department does not operate that way. To begin with, it would have been entrapment, and in the second place—”

“But, sir,” Jamison said pleadingly, “it wouldn’t have been entrapment at all! We didn’t ask Huuygens to bring stolen merchandise into the country through Customs, Girard did—”

“I don’t want to warn you about interruptions again, Jamison! As I was saying, I told you at that time the Department does not condone burglary, just to be able to catch the thief trying to smuggle something in later. I explained to you that it would be immoral, and probably wouldn’t work in the first place. I then instructed you to use Wilkinson on the case with you. I told you, if you insisted, that you could follow Huuygens and keep an eye on him, but that Wilkinson was to go to Ile Rocheux and warn the authorities there of the plot — or of what you conceived to be the plot — and to make damn sure nobody stole the carving. Or anything else.” The voice, if possible grew even colder. “And now you tell me Wilkinson, quite by accident , happened to get sick on fish in San Juan and that you had to take his place!”