1969 - The Whiff of Money

by James Hadley Chase

  'I'll say good-bye now. I hope we don't meet again. In a couple of months I'll be back in the active field. We are all square now... you understand?'

  Girland laughed.

  'I can take a hint. I hope we don't meet again and thanks for your help. Yes ... we're all square.'

  He offered his hand and Malik gripped it, then as the plane touched down and began to taxi towards the arrival bay, both men unfastened their safety belts.

  * * *

  Girland was disappointed when he walked into Dorey's outer office to find Mavis Paul not at her desk.

  He flicked down the switch on the intercom connecting with Dorey's office.

  'Yes?' Dorey's voice asked.

  'This is your favourite ex-agent reporting,' Girland said. 'Did I wake you up?'

  'Oh... you. Come in.'

  Girland entered the big room, sauntered across to the visitor's chair and sank into it. He was wearing a lightweight grey tweed suit, a blood-red tie and dark-brown casuals. Dorey was surprised to see him so well turned out.

  'Nice to see me again?' Girland asked with a jeering little smile.

  Dorey regarded him over the tops of his spectacles.

  'Did you get those films?'

  Girland lifted his shoulders. He took his time before saying, 'Yes and no. I did have them, but the poor little girl sobbed so hard when I told her I was giving them to her old man that I gave them back to her.'

  Dorey stiffened.

  'Are you trying to waste my time?'

  'I wouldn't dream of doing that. If you don't believe me, call up the Soviet Embassy and ask Malik. Without him, I doubt if I would have got the films. He was an eyewitness to the touching scene when I decided, not without pain to myself, that I would rather let the girl have them than her creep of a father.'

  'In other words you haven't the films ...you have failed,' Dorey exclaimed, his face flushing with anger.

  'I didn't fail. I don't fail. I got them and you can assure your pal that he can go ahead and run for office. The films have been destroyed. Gillian has promised to behave herself in the future. You can't call that failure, can you?'

  'Do you expect me to believe any of this?' Dorey said furiously. 'Your assignment was to bring those films to me! Now stop this fooling! Have you got them or haven't you?'

  'I know you are getting old, but I didn't realise you are also getting deaf, Dorey,' Girland said, looking sad. 'The girl has destroyed them. She has promised to leave her father strictly alone in the future.'

  'How do I know she has destroyed them? A promise from a slut like that? What is that worth?' Dorey demanded, banging his fist on the desk.

  'Did you know Sherman gave the green light to Radnitz to have her murdered?' Girland asked quietly.

  Dorey stiffened and looked hard at Girland who had lost his bantering expression. There was a steely gleam in his eyes that told Dorey he was being deadly serious.

  'I think you should tell me just what has been happening,' he said.

  ‘I'll tell you... that's why I'm here. By the way how has your pal Sherman been getting along since I've been away?'

  'What do you expect? Because of his daughter, he has had to remain at home. He's lost ground. You can't fight an election at home.'

  Girland brightened.

  'Well, that's good news. Perhaps Gilly has struck a mortal blow after all.'

  'I'm not saying that, but he is now behind. Ten days are vital at this period of the election.'

  'So the creep might not become President after all?'

  'Never mind about him. What's been happening?'

  Girland took one of Dorey's cigarettes, lit it and settled himself comfortably. He then proceeded to give Dorey a lucid report of the past events.

  Dorey sat in his chair, his chin resting on his fingertips, his eyes hooded as he listened. When Girland described Rosnold's murder, Dorey's lips tightened, but he still didn't interrupt.

  'And so when the girl started to cry her eyes out,' Girland concluded, 'I thought the gentlemanly thing to do was to give her the films ... so I gave them to her. Perhaps you wouldn't have?'

  Dorey brooded for some moments.

  'You have no real proof that Sherman is implicated with this kidnapping and murder?' he asked finally.

  'I don't need proof. Sherman and Radnitz are buddy-buddies. Gilly made a nuisance of herself... Q.E.D. What's it matter anyway? She isn't charging the creep with attempted murder.'

  Dorey winced.

  'I find this difficult to believe,' he said slowly, but his shocked eyes told Girland he did believe.

  'You don't have to... it's over now...who cares?'

  'What has happened to the girl?'

  Girland shrugged.

  'You don't have to worry about her. She is capable of taking care of herself. She'll keep her promise... I'm sure of that.'

  Dorey began to relax.

  'You realise, Girland, that unless I give those three films to Sherman, he won't part with any more money?'

  'I knew that when I gave Gilly the films,' Girland said and smiled wryly. 'I earned the first ten thousand dollars so I keep them but I intend to spend them as fast as I can. I wouldn't take any more money from Sherman if he offered it to me ... some money smells, but his money stinks.'

  Dorey lifted his hands a little helplessly.

  'There are times when I don't understand you,' he said. 'I was under the impression any money smelt good to you.'

  'Well, we all live and learn.' Girland laughed. 'I have another choice item of news for you,' and he went on to tell Dorey that Kovski was heading for disgrace.

  Dorey considered this, then shook his head.

  'It isn't good news, Girland. I would rather have a blustering fool like Kovski in charge of Security than a devil like Malik back in the active field. You're not using your head.'

  Girland acknowledged the truth of this by nodding.

  'Yes ... I must admit that fact had escaped me. Not that I could have done anything about it. It's Malik's private vendetta, Anyway, it doesn't matter to me. I'm distinctly ex now. I don't suppose I'll ever run into Malik again. You had better warn your boys. They have been having it too soft recently.'

  Dorey rubbed his jaw as he regarded Girland.

  'I don't believe you really want to leave us, Girland. Now there is an interesting little job in Tangier that would exactly suit you.' He reached for a file and drew it lovingly towards him. 'Plenty of action... two women . . . pretty ones involved. Yes, it would exactly suit you and I know you could handle it.'

  Girland lifted his eyebrows. 'The old siren at work again. How about the money?'

  This is an official job so you would be paid official rates,' Dorey said, a sudden waspish note in his voice.

  Girland levered himself out of the chair.

  'No, thank you. I have ten thousand dollars to squander. I've given up working for peanuts.' He lifted his hand and flapped his fingers at Dorey. 'So long. If anything crops up in the ten thousand dollar bracket, I might consider it. Think big is my motto: should be yours too.'

  He wandered out, closing the door gently behind him. His face lit up with his charming smile as he saw Mavis Paul at her typewriter.

  She looked up, flushed and then continued to type.

  'Not a word of welcome?' Girland said, coming to the desk and smiling down at her. 'Not one glad little cry of pleasure?'

  Mavis hesitated and then stopped typing. She looked up at him.

  'Did anyone tell you you have eyes like stars and lips made for a kiss?' Girland asked. 'I got that off a bottle of perfume.'

  'The exit is behind you and to the right,' Mavis said without sounding very convincing.

  'How about a dinner with me at Lasserre: soft music, beautiful food, velvety wines? I have lots of money I want to get rid of. Shall we say nine o'clock?'

  Mavis regarded him. She thought he looked very handsome. An evening out with him couldn't fail to be exciting. She suddenly realised her life up to now had been
all work and no play.

  'Thank you... yes...'

  'My mother once told me that if I didn't at first succeed...’ Girland laughed happily. 'This is going to be the most maddeningly exciting evening of my life... and your life. Then nine o'clock at Lasserre.'

  She nodded and began typing again.

  Girland wandered to the door. As he was about to leave, she stopped typing. He turned and looked inquiringly at her.

  Her eyes were sparkling as she asked, 'Do you still own that Bukhara rug?'

  THE END

  Table of Contents

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight