Peter O'Donnell - Cobra Trap

Willie pressed the intercom button, said, " 'ang on, Mavis," and glanced at Modesty with a lifted eyebrow.

She said, "Have him come here for a few minutes, Willie. He loves browsing around your collection, and I want to put a bit of makeup on."

Willie spoke briefly into the intercom, then moved to the end of the combat room to unlock the door. Fraser arrived, growled a surly greeting, and mooched around the various weapon displays for a while, responding with little more than a grunt to any comment from Willie. At last he said abruptly, "Modesty's here, isn't she? I thought that was the arrangement."

Willie stared. "Yes, she's 'ere. Look, are you all right, Jack? You're looking a bit pasty."

Before Fraser could answer, Modesty appeared from the dressingroom section at the far end and came towards them, smiling. "Hallo, Jack, it's good to see you."

Shoulders hunched, mouth turned down, he watched as she approached and stood before him. "Christ, you look great, girl," he said dourly. "Since the day you went legitimate I've got twelve years older. You've just stood still. If you ever feel like taking care of a miserable old sod with no money in his declining years, just call me. I wouldn't mind marrying you."

The midnight blue eyes held mingled laughter and puzzlement as she studied him. "You certainly know how to touch a girl's heart, Jack. But that was a bit heavy, even for you. Is anything wrong?"

He hesitated, then exhaled and said, "Sorry. Can we talk here for a few minutes before we go to lunch?"

"Of course." She gestured to a corner where there was a bench locker and two chairs. Fraser had left his bowler hat and umbrella there with a large envelope. As they sat down she said, "Are you speaking for Tarrant? And is it about the Hallenberg snatch?"

Fraser said grimly, "I'm certainly not speaking for Tarrant, but there's a connection with the Hallenberg snatch."

She waited, sensing his indecision and puzzled by it, for it was out of character. Tor Hallenberg, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, had come to London on a lecture tour and been kidnapped seven days ago. The government was working with the Norwegian Embassy and releasing nothing to the press about ransom demands or police activity in the hunt for the missing celebrity. It would not have surprised her to be asked if her knowledge of the underworld, and Willie's, could offer any pointers to whoever might be behind the kidnapping.

Fraser said, "The Royal Lithuania Movement snatched Hallenberg. They've sent proof of holding him."

Willie said incredulously, "Royal Lithuania?"

"That's right," said Fraser. They want the Grand Duchy of Lithuania restored."

Modesty said, "I didn't know there'd ever been a Grand Duchy of Lithuania."

"Before your time, little girl. About six hundred years before. It stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea."

"Are you serious, Jack?"

"Never more so, lady. What's not serious but ludicrous are the ransom demands. Recognition of the Duchy in Exile. Promise of arms for subversion. A ban on trade with Russia and Poland, their old enemies. And half a million in gold."

Willie said, "They're barmy."

"They would be if in fact the Royal Lithuania Movement had anything to do with the snatch, but in fact the movement is only about twenty strong, and the youngest is a man of seventythree."

Modesty said quietly, "You're stalling, Jack. You don't want to get to the point. Come on, what's this all about?"

Fraser scowled, took off his glasses and began to polish them. "You're right, and I'm sorry. Well, what it's about is a big scam. The Basque Liberation Group had nothing to do with the snatch in Spain two months ago. The Amboines had nothing to do with the snatch in Holland before that. We now know that five out of the last six snatches haven't been made by these fringe political groups at all. A professional mob's running the scam."

Modesty nodded. "That begins to make sense. How does it work in detail?"

Fraser put on his glasses. "They pick a suitable candidate and grab him. Their demands, as Willie just said, are barmy and they know it. Then comes negotiation. It's done by phone and always from another country, so it can't be traced in time. Eventually the kidnappers yield on all points except the money."

There was a little silence. Fraser saw Modesty and Willie looking at each other absently, and suspected that in some strange way their thoughts were merging. At last Willie said, "So they've picked up a few mill in the last eighteen months."

"Quite a few. The only failure was Brazil. They wouldn't pay for De Souta, and he was found in pieces. It'll be the same for Hallenberg now, and in less than fortyeight hours. The Norwegians won't pay on principle, neither will we."

Another silence, and again Fraser sensed that nebulous measure of communication. At the same moment that Willie shook his head Modesty said, "Starting from cold there's no time to do anything useful. But surely you're not starting from cold, Jack. Tarrant must have been trying to get a man inside this mob for months."

Fraser nodded. "We put a man on the job, and he got in. You know Johnny Nash?"

Modesty smiled. "Yes, I know Johnny well. Nothing heavy. We're good occasional friends."

Willie said, "If Johnny's inside, you ought to wrap it up pretty quick now. He's as good as anyone you've got."

Fraser drew in a long breath and picked up the envelope that lay by his hat. "He was very good. But he must have got blown somehow." He took two photographs from the envelope and handed them to Modesty. "Before they killed him they gave him a manicure. With boltcutters, we think."

She sat holding the photographs, one in each hand, looking at them, her face wiped clean of all expression. After a few moments she passed them to Willie and stood up, holding her elbows as she paced away before turning to come slowly back. Willie laid the photographs facedown on the locker beside Fraser. His face held no more expression than hers as he said, "Where did you find 'im?"

Fraser said, "In our private carpark, in a sack. As from the Royal Lithuania Movement."

Modesty came to a halt, looking down at Fraser, understanding the strangeness in him that had puzzled her earlier. "You're certainly not speaking for Tarrant," she said quietly. "He'll kill you for showing me those photographs, Jack."

Fraser shrugged, looking up at her with an attempt at a smile. "He'll certainly fire me. But…" he touched the photographs with his fingertips and the effortful smile became a savage, selfmocking grin. "You know how it is, lady. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Christ, girl, I'd go back on the job myself if I thought I had a cat in hell's chance, but I'm long past it now." He shook his head wearily. "And anyway I wouldn't know where to start."

Modesty stood gazing absently into space. Willie sat watching her quietly, waiting. He knew several things now beyond all doubt. She would seek whoever had performed that obscene killing of Johnny Nash. She would hope to find them, and hope for a confrontation that would provide an opportunity to destroy them in hot blood. She would not take Willie's support for granted, even though she knew he would declare it. And she would be aware that as soon as they began their search Tarrant would know that Fraser had shown her the photographs.

It was Fraser who broke the silence, sounding happier now that he had committed himself. "I'll tell the old man when I get back to town. No point in hanging about."

Modesty nodded, and her remote gaze faded as she looked at him. "Yes, phone him today. He knows Johnny was a friend, so tell him that if I'd found out about this later I'd never have forgiven him for keeping it from me."

Fraser said bleakly, "That just might save my bacon, except that I just might be getting you killed, in which case I wouldn't want my bacon saved." He picked up the photographs, put them in the envelope and glared at her sullenly. "For Christ's sake don't get killed, girl. I've still got a few years left maybe, and I don't want to be carrying that with me."