Brian Freemantle - Charlie Muffin U.S.A.

‘I’m grateful for the opportunity,’ Chambine said.

Terrilli had had drinks installed in the Waldorf Astoria suite, but Chambine had seen the older man take just club soda and so he asked for the same, determined to impress in every way possible.

‘It is to be a personal thing,’ said Terrilli. There was always the chance that Chambine would inform upon him to the organisation, to ingratiate himself.

‘I understand,’ said Chambine.

‘I would take it as an insult to myself if it were discussed.’

‘You can trust me,’ Chambine assured him.

‘I hope I can. How many people will you need?’

‘I’ve got to see the size of the exhibition, but I wouldn’t think more than six.’

‘Can you find them?’

‘Of course.’

‘Discreetly?’

‘You have my guarantee. What is the security like?’

‘Appears to be nothing more than normal.’

‘Sure you don’t want the collection taken here?’

Terrilli shook his head. ‘Too soon. Everyone will be alert now. By the time the second week comes in Florida, they will have become complacent and sloppy.’

‘As soon as I’ve seen the stamps, tomorrow, I shall go to Palm Beach. I’ve already made a reservation at the Breakers.’

Terrilli nodded his appreciation at the man’s initiative. Chambine was a thick-set, muscular man who had the habit of clenching and relaxing his hands when he was talking, as if squeezing a ball. He was unobtrusively dressed, which Terrilli liked, just as he liked the man’s attitude, properly respectful without any servility. He wanted Chambine to succeed and not just because he was determined to have the Romanov Collection. Terrilli was growing increasingly uneasy at Santano’s position: it would be good to have someone loyal alongside him.

‘Contact will always come from me,’ he said.

‘Of course.’

‘And I want everything brought to my house. Immediately.’

Chambine frowned and Terrilli smiled at the surprise.

‘No one would dream of suspecting me of any involvement,’ he explained. ‘I’m well regarded within the community.’

‘What am I to offer the others?’

‘Fifty thousand each,’ said Terrilli immediately. He waited for fresh surprise to show, but this time Chambine curbed it.

‘That’s a great deal of money,’ said Chambine.

‘For that, I want the best.’

‘You’ll get it.’

‘And you receive a hundred thousand,’ said Terrilli.

This time Chambine smiled. ‘You’re very generous.’

‘I want the stamps.’

‘Consider them yours.’

‘Without any trouble,’ Terrilli warned him. ‘I don’t want over-confidence.’

‘My word.’

‘I’d like us to work together.’

‘I’d like that too, Mr Terrilli.’

‘We’ll make it the Thursday of the second week. I’ll have to warn my own security people, otherwise you won’t be able to get into the grounds.’

‘That will give me more than sufficient time.’

Terrilli stood up and the other man rose with him. ‘I don’t like violence,’ said Terrilli.

‘I’ll see it’s avoided.’

‘I don’t mind if it’s the only way… I’d just prefer a clean job, without any killing.’

Terrilli walked to a desk against one wall, alongside which was his snakeskin briefcase. He took out several bundles of money, still in their bank wrappers.

‘Fifty thousand on account and for advance expenses for the people you’ll take with you,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to count it.’

Chambine did as he was told. Terrilli watched without speaking.

‘Fifty thousand,’ agreed Chambine finally. He looked up. ‘Please don’t think me presumptuous,’ he said. ‘But you shouldn’t carry such amounts around unless you have people with you.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Terrilli curiously.

‘Crime.’ said Chambine. ‘Despite what the police claim, there’s still an amazing amount of it on the streets. It’s not safe.’

‘People shouldn’t put up with it,’ said Terrilli seriously.

Charlie didn’t bother to undress, familiar with the rich-woman-amusing-herself routine and guessing she would come. There was a knock within an hour. Clarissa walked straight in when he opened the door, without greeting. When he turned, she was frowning at the room.

‘It’s not a suite,’ she said.

‘No.’

‘I was expecting a suite.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Just as I was expecting courtesy tonight.’

‘I was courteous,’ said Charlie.

‘You humiliated me, walking away like that.’

‘It’s not really important, but the humiliation was yours. I don’t do tricks to finger-snapping.’

‘You mean you’re not like my husband?’

‘Have it which ever way you want.’

‘I intend to,’ she said, turning the expression.

Charlie walked further into the room, looking down upon the woman. Clarissa had seated herself on the bed, shoes thrown off. Perhaps her feet hurt, too, he thought.

‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ he said sadly. Her eyes were fogged and he didn’t think it was from alcohol.

‘I want you.’

He sighed, irritated by her. ‘I don’t fuck to order, either.’

‘This time you do.’

Charlie sat down in a chair, some way from the bed.

‘Stop it, Clarissa,’ he said.

‘Because unless you do, I shan’t tell you.’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Who is making enquiries about you.’

‘Who?’ Charlie’s concern was immediate.

‘Nothing’s for nothing.’

‘Who?’

‘Later.’

‘Now!’

‘No. Earn it first.’

He was always on his knees to someone, thought Charlie. And fifteen minutes later he literally was.

‘That’s very nice,’ she said. ‘I knew it would be nice. Here.’

‘What is it?’

‘I brought you a toothpick from the restaurant.’

Charlie decided it would be a mistake to over-react to Jack Pendlebury’s investigation. He should continue to remain cautious, but not panic. The man was a security official, after all. And even without Clarissa’s over-loud praise at the exhibition, he would have done the same, had he been in Jack Pendlebury’s position. But then, his training had been different; different, that is, unless Pendlebury was not who he claimed to be.

Charlie sat in the darkened projection room in the Pinker-ton offices, delaying the start of the video film of the previous night’s reception.

‘What can Pendlebury discover?’ he asked himself, lapsing into the unconscious habit of talking to himself when confronted with a problem. Very little, he thought. His assumed identity could not be uncovered unless there was a deep examination of the birth certificate with which he had obtained the passport. Were an enquiry made in London, then Willoughby would fully support him, just as Clarissa had when Pendlebury had intercepted her as she had entered the hotel the previous night. Pendlebury had looked tired and travel-weary, Clarissa had said. Charlie closed his eyes, trying to recall what Pendlebury had said earlier in the evening. An appointment, Charlie remembered. But nothing about a journey. He smiled at a sudden thought. By Clarissa’s reckoning, it had been past two o’clock in the morning when Pendlebury had spoken to her. And the reception had ended promptly at six. If Pendlebury’s appointment had been in Manhattan, that meant eight hours for the man to drink. Perhaps that was it; perhaps Clarissa, with her cocaine-numbed brain, had mistaken tiredness for booze and perhaps Pendlebury’s sudden appearance at the hotel was nothing more than a drunken episode.

Still, better to remain properly cautious, decided Charlie again, pressing the start button for the video-film replay. Because Clarissa’s interception wasn’t the only curiosity, or even the greatest. After the previous day’s cocktail bar conversation with Pendlebury, Charlie had again checked the video mechanism, convinced that he had not made a mistake during his tour with Heppert. And that check confirmed that he hadn’t. The most likely malfunction of any electrical equipment had to be the power supply, which made connecting both systems to the same source ridiculous; unless the purpose wasn’t the one Pendlebury had so glibly offered. Now Charlie had reason to believe it wasn’t. When he had asked the projection room technician to show the film, he’d made the question casual, hardly more than an aside, and the technician had responded ingenuously, unaware of any significance in the request. Despite the duplicated system, there was only one film available. So where was the other one? wondered Charlie.