The Money Stones

by Ian St. James

  And Alberto joined us in due course, two hundred pounds of smooth Italian charm, flashing white teeth and ready compliments. He made a great fuss over Jean and would have spent the rest of the evening improving on it, but for my scowl and Jack's amused reminder about my questions.

  'Ah yes - you wish to talk business, Mr Townsend? Then may I suggest we adjourn to my suite. More comfortable and more private.'

  It was: a discreet sitting room full of soft lights and large brandies.

  'But of course I know Mr Hallsworth,' he said in answer to my question. 'And his charming wife. Such a nice couple -yes?'

  'His wife?'

  'But of course.' He saw my look of astonishment. 'You do not know her perhaps?'

  'But I thought,' I began. 'I mean, I'm not sure -'

  'Forgive me, but then you cannot. With her, no one is not sure.' He shook his head emphatically. 'She is someone you either know or you don't know. You never forget. Like him too-yes?'

  'Can you describe her?'

  'Can I describe a beautiful woman?' He used both hands and most of his body in a shrug, and then closed his eyes to picture her. 'What do you see first? Her size, no? Small. Very small, but the figure of a Venus. Skin the colour of a peach ripened slowly in the sun. Dark eyes that dance and laugh and share secrets - and make impossible promises without a word being spoken.' He blinked and beamed about him in triumph.

  'Is that your girl?'asked Jack.

  'It's like someone he knows,' Jean corrected with her deep frozen voice. 'Though it's not the way I would have described her.'

  I looked at her. It was Sue and we both knew it.

  'And she's his wife ?' I persisted.

  'But of course.' Tonelli sighed. 'A man must be blessed by the Gods to have a wife so beautiful. Waking every morning to - to a face like a Botticelli angel on the next pillow. Oh, can you imagine?'

  'Try him,' Jean nodded at me. His imagination's lousy but his memory's perfect.'

  I scowled, uncomfortably aware of Jack's eyes narrowing as he watched me.

  'And they stayed here, last summer?' I pressed Tonelli.

  'Last summer - the one before - the one before that.' He shrugged and was about to add something when he stopped, his look flicking from my face to Jack's with sudden nervousness. 'Please - Mr Hallsworth, he's not in any kind of trouble?'

  Jack was positive. 'Nothing to worry about, Alberto. You can trust Mike. And you'll be doing me a big favour.'

  It seemed that Tonelli was in the business of doing Jack big favours so that settled it. 'They stay here perhaps once every six months,' he said. 'Most times for just one night at a time.'

  'Since when?'

  'Since years. Two, three, four maybe.'

  I shook my head in bewilderment but Tonelli mistook the gesture for one of disbelief. 'Oh, but I am certain,' he protested. 'I will show you the records.'

  And he did, leading me first to his office, explaining the hotel's record-keeping system on the way. Guests registered on four by six index cards, supplying their name, nationality, home address - the usual kind of thing. Hotel booking clerks compiled a daily record from the cards, listing all guests on a pre-printed form. At the month's end all daily forms were photographed side by side and put onto microfiche, so an entire month's traffic appeared on a single piece of film. The film was viewed through enlargers like television receivers and twelve screenings gave the bookings for an entire year.

  'So to go back three years will not take long.' Tonelli was pleased to demonstrate his efficiency. 'Half an hour is all.'

  He was wrong. We did it in twenty minutes. Mr and Mrs Hallsworth had stayed once earlier in the year, three times in seventy-six, and twice in seventy-five. I cursed the pair of them, hating them for their deception, and feeling more frightened than ever.

  But it was while I was making a written note of the dates - my eyes on the screen as my head throbbed with questions - that I saw the other name. Whatever the shocks earlier, nothing could-have prepared me for that. I felt disorientated before. Confused as a consequence of people important to my life being where they had no business to be. But now the feeling of unreality exploded to the edge of hallucination.

  Tonelli saw the look on my face. 'Something is wrong, Mr Townsend?'

  I swallowed hard to clear my throat. 'Aristotle Pepalasis. You know him too?'

  Aristotle Pepalasis had stayed on the tenth of January seventy-five. The very same date as the Hallsworths. I searched for the other date in that year. September fifteenth. It was the same. Two dates, eight months apart. Still dazed, I turned the controls to the next year. January the eighth August the tenth - December the second. Hallsworth, Sue and Pepalasis. The very same date every time!

  'Pepalasis,' Tonelli was repeating the name, frowning as if it meant nothing to him. 'Ah, but of course.' His face cleared. 'The Greek gentleman. Another who stays with us whenever he's in Malta.'

  'But they know each other? They're friends. Hallsworth and Pepalasis?'

  He seemed surprised at that. 'No. I think not.' He thought about it a moment longer and then made up his mind. 'No, this time you are wrong, Mr Townsend.'

  We rejoined the others in the sitting room, Tonelli describing Pepalasis on the way. There can't be too many men in the world named Aristotle Pepalasis. Especially ones who twirl worry beads from morning to night.

  Not long after that we left, and went back to the white house on the cliff.

  'Did it help?' Jack wanted to know.

  'Help? That was the last thing it did. But it proved something. Though God knows what so don't ask me.' I shook my head, still in a state of shock I think. 'Anyway, Jack, I'm grateful - good of you to use your influence.'

  We went to bed. My room was at the end of the corridor, a guest suite separate from the rest of the house, and I was already in bed when the door opened and Jean slipped in.

  'It's all right.' She kissed me and slid under the bedclothes. 'Mother approves.'

  'Mother doesn't worry me. But any second Captain Blood will the kick the door in and come after me with a cutlass.'

  She giggled. 'He's not that fierce.'

  'No, I like him. Let's keep it that way.'

  'Well, even, he can't object, can he?' She was making snuffling noises as she unbuttoned my pyjamas. 'After all we're practically engaged.'

  'Oh? You heard about that?'

  'We're a close family. Anyway, they like you. Except for your habit of taking married ladies to bed.'

  'Yes.' I raised myself on one elbow. 'What the hell d'you make of that?'

  'Oh, we approve. We're going to give you one of your own.'

  Five

  The telephone interrupted breakfast the following morning. Tonelli for me.

  'Mr Townsend, last night I forgot, but I have a meeting in Gozo today. But the other information you wanted Ricardo will have it by the time you get here.'

  I thanked him for his help, promised to convey his warmest best wishes to Jean, and was on the point of hanging up when he remembered something else, 'Oh, by the way,' he said quickly, 'Mr Hallsworth, he has friends in Malta yes?'

  'What makes you think so?'

  'Because of his meetings.'

  'Meetings?'

  'Whenever he stays, he holds a meeting in his sitting room.'

  'With whom?'

  'Ah, that I don't know. My staff tell me two people.'

  'Pepalasis being one of them?'

  'No, no - not Mr Pepalasis.'

  'Who then?'

  'I've no idea. Mr Hallsworth says always he is not to be disturbed.'

  'But you know it's two people?'

  'Only from the dining room. They send a luncheon trolley for four people and Mrs Hallsworth takes it at the door.'

  I pressed him for details until realising that he had none to give, said goodbye for the second time, and returned to my breakfast. After which we had a holiday. Jack's big motor cruiser took us off to the deserted north coast of the island. We moored well clear of the rock
s and enjoyed a morning's swimming and fishing and lazing in the sunshine. Correction, they enjoyed it while I pretended to have stopped worrying for a few hours. But however hard I tried it was impossible. During less than forty-eight hours the whole structure of my life had been changed. Relationships I had believed in proved to be not what I thought they were: people, events, memories, everything had to be re-evaluated. And all the while I was cursed by a premonition that time was running out, something wrong was happening, someone, somewhere, was about to bring life crashing down around my ears.

  In the afternoon Jean's parents drove us to the airport, stopping briefly at the Dragon's Lair. They took Jean off for a coffee while I kept my appointment with Ricardo.

  'Hallsworth did not stay with us before seventy-five,' Ricardo was positive. 'Neither did Mr Pepalasis.'

  'Oh, but Mr Tonelli thought -'

  'He was mistaken. I myself checked the records this morning.'

  'I see. Well, thanks for the help and -'

  'You are a friend of Mr Hallsworth?'

  Something in the way he asked made my hackles rise. 'Yes, that's right, we're in the same line of business. Mr Pepalasis too. We're all old friends.'

  He smiled and shook his head. 'Excuse me, but that cannot be. Mr Hallsworth and Mr Pepalasis have stayed together - no, no - not together, at the same time, yes? They have passed each other - without speaking - I have seen this happen, in the lobby, in the bar. I am sure they do not know each other.' He gave me a sly look

  'Perhaps another Mr Pepalasis?'

  It was difficult to be sure about Ricardo. He was either intent on being accurate or as good as calling me a liar to my face. Whichever, there was damn all I could do about it, but whereas Tonelli had been anxious to help I got the strong impression that Ricardo resented giving me the time of day. I shrugged, said goodbye, and went in search of the others - thinking Jack wasn't the only one with a friend in the hotel.

  I told him as much on the way to the airport.

  'Why didn't you tell me back there? I could have done something about it.'

  'Like what? Cause a fuss? You live here, remember. You've done plenty already.' I screwed up my eyes against the glare of the sun reflected from the white dust of the road. 'But if you ever get the chance to look at the records for yourself perhaps you'll let me know.'

  We said our goodbyes and Jean and I boarded the plane for the flight home.

  'You're worried sick, aren't you?'

  'That's an understatement,' I snapped, nerves making me irritable. 'Sue Ballantyne equals Mrs Hallsworth. Pepalasis equals old friend. And -'

  'They didn't say that. About Pepalasis I mean. They said he never knew them.'

  'And you believe that?' I sneered. 'Come on, Jean. The same dates every time. Business trips. Private meetings. Of course they know each other!'

  'But they-'

  'All pretend otherwise. I know, I know. What the hell's going on?'

  'Mike, if only I knew I'd -'

  But I wasn't really listening. Too many pictures were in my mind for me to concentrate on anything else. Sue, at the old flat at Belsize Park. At the house at Maida Vale. The flat at Hill Street. Sue in restaurants. Sue at the theatre. Sue in bed. Barmouth! Sue in bed like never before. When only hours earlier she had telephoned the Dorchester. And spoken to Pepalasis? I could see him sitting there taking the call, Hallsworth in the chair opposite, all of them laughing. I could even hear the laughter. I could sense their triumph. But triumph about what for God's sake?

  'Mike, you are all right aren't you?' Jean was saying. 'You look so, so bleak.'

  'It's got to have something to do with this bloody island.'

  'Malta? But why?'

  'Christ, not Malta. The Greek's island.'

  'Sorry.'

  I knew I had offended her, that she was getting the brunt of my frustration, and knew that later I would apologise.

  But right then there wasn't time.

  'Suppose it happened this way.' I had taken her hand, turned her in her seat to face me, anxious to get every ounce of concentration from her. 'Hallsworth and Pepalasis know each other from way back. They make some private arrangement to sell the island. But then McNeil discovers not diamonds - but nickel. The biggest strike since Poseidon. If you were Hallsworth - what would you do?'

  She frowned. 'Oh, Mike -you're the businessman. I don't know-'

  'Think about it, Jean. Think, think, think! You'd do one of two things.'

  'One of two things?' She repeated, staring at me. I sensed I was frightening her and relaxed my grip on her hands as she said, 'Mike, I can't think.'

  'Yes you can. Come on now, Jean - you would have a choice of action.'

  'A choice? You mean sell or it or mine it?'

  'Right. Now which one would you do?'

  'Oh God knows. Darling, it's a commercial decision. Find out which was the most profitable I suppose and -'

  'Genius! And then what?'

  'Are you making fun of me? All I said was find out which was the most profitable - why the excitement?'

  'Because you're still Hallsworth, remember - now you're going to tell me how you would sell it - most profitably.'

  She gave a blank look so I prompted her by saying: 'To whom would you sell it most profitably?'

  'To whom?' Suddenly she was smiling. 'Of course. To U.S. Steel.'

  'Exactly.'

  'Well, that's just what you're doing.'

  'That's what we're doing. The consortium. But you're Hallsworth. You and U.S. Steel have been buddy buddy since God. They want nickel and you've as good as got some. So what would you do?'

  'Darling, I've said it already. Sell them the island.'

  'You would sell them the island. You, you and Pepalasis. Direct! You don't need the consortium! -So why involve them? Why throw away an extra profit so fat that you'd live like a sheik for the rest of your life?'

  We asked ourselves that all the way to Heathrow. All the way through the plastic meal and the white wine warmed by the sun through the ports. All the way through the interruptions as stewards delivered drinks and cleared trays and offered us duty free goodies from a trolley. We asked but I'm damned if we answered it.

  Just before the descent over London the picture show started up in my mind again. Meeting Sue and then Hallsworth and then the Greek. All about a year apart. While all the time the three of them were meeting in Malta. No, not the three of them? What had Tonelli said? A luncheon trolley for four people. Four people. I could hear Tonelli saying it. 'Mr Hallsworth, he has friends in Malta, yes?'

  'Next time we go we must see more of the place, darling,' Jean was saying. I stared at her. 'Malta I mean,' she smiled. 'I've got lots of friends there.' She laughed. 'Or I used to have. -Trouble is, for the last couple of years I've only been able to get back there for the odd day or two. Every six months or so. You know how it is.'

  I closed my eyes and prayed that I did. It would make a nice change.

  Six

  'Mike, you look as if you've been in the south of France,' Amy said when I kissed her. It was true. I've got that kind of skin. The few hours on Jack's boat had given me a bronzed sheen which would last just about until morning.

  'I've been sunbathing.'

  Bob snorted. 'It's rained buckets all weekend.'

  'In Malta,' I said. Whether I wanted to or not I would have to tell them.

  'Malta for the weekend?' Bob sneered, and led the way to the sitting room. 'Business must be good. Mike - let me introduce a friend of mine - Claude Jenkins.'

  I was surprised, expecting Jean and me to be the only guests. Jenkins was a tall, spare-framed man, casually but expensively dressed in a lightweight suede. His name rang a bell but there was no time to work on it as Amy completed the introductions and Bob poured drinks, while we arranged ourselves in armchairs.

  'Bit sudden, wasn't it?' Bob cocked an eyebrow. 'Malta? You didn't say anything on Friday?'

  I glimpsed Jean's quick look and sensed that she wanted them to
know her news. Our news. And it was a relief to have a reason which had nothing to do with Hallsworth. 'We went to see Jean's parents,' I said gruffly. 'Jean and I are getting married.'

  The next five minutes were spent listening to congratulations and 'about time too' and all the other daft things people feel compelled to say on such occasions; but in the middle of it all I stole at glance at Jean and felt well pleased with myself. And not long afterwards the girls went off to the kitchen, leaving Bob and me to entertain Mr Claude Jenkins.

  'Sorry about Friday night,' Bob said, bleated almost, he sounded so sheepish. 'Had a drop too much. Got a right bawling out from Amy afterwards.'

  I said we'd both had one too many and wished that Jenkins would push off somewhere so that Bob could give me his news.

  'Still, I wasn't so plastered that I forgot this Hallsworth business.' Bob read my mind. 'Matter of fact that's why Claude's here.' He checked himself. 'Sorry Claude, I meant you know all about it and wanted to meet Mike anyway - so here we all are.'

  Jenkins gave me a cautious smile.

  'Claude's a journalist,' Bob added, by way of concluding the introduction, and the bell rang again as I placed him. He was a journalist all right, the sharpest pen in Fleet Street, looking for commercial Watergates, real or exaggerated.

  'Of course,' I said. 'Didn't you do a piece on the Crown Agents a few weeks ago?'

  His gesture of modesty was so blatantly false that I disliked him instinctively.

  'How do you two know each other?' I asked.

  'Much as you do, I imagine,' Jenkins answered. He spoke slowly, lazily, but I guessed he was probably a lot quicker asking questions than answering them. 'Bob and I met some years back,' he said, 'while I was doing a piece on defence costs, and we've kept in touch ever since, in a vague sort of way.' He gave me a vague sort of smile to prove it, while Bob grinned like an uncertain bridegroom introducing new sets of in-laws.

  'Anyway this Hallsworth thing,' Jenkins drawled. 'Bob wanted whatever I had on the file, which isn't much; the press here didn't give it coverage at the time. But it made headlines in Italy. They labelled it the Frascari scandal and a lot of people got very excited about it. I was based in Rome then, and a great pal of mine was Carlos Pinero and it's really his story.'