The American Broker

by Andrew Hill

  "Christ!" exclaimed Paul.

  Evelyn was shaken by the news of Keith. That brought it close to home for him, too.

  "June Franklin and Harry's wife, too, and two more got killed by those bloody maniacs on the Newlands estate. The police want to know, obviously, why we were away, particularly as no one knew where the hell we were. Sally seems to have said something about the call I got so they want to see you and me, Eve."

  "Was this before or after our session with Bob?" asked Paul.

  "Before," grunted Tyler.

  "So it's not him getting his own back," concluded Paul.

  "God no - I don't think any of us credit him with that sort of stuff anyway and, for God's sake, what the bloody hell have these people got to do with him or any of his business? Jesus! If I'd had any idea that Sally was on the list, I'd have never started this bloody project. And what has it achieved?" Tyler thumped the table with a clenched fist then stood up. "Come on, you two, let's go and see what other damage they've caused."

  "Who knew we'd be away - apart from Chris, Brian and Michaelis?" asked Paul.

  "No-one. That girl of Chris's knew something was going on and, you know women, she probably guessed that we were with Chris, but she doesn't know..."

  "We'd better find out what she does and doesn't know," suggested Paul, menacingly. "How did she get mixed up with Chris, anyway?"

  "I don't know," said Tyler, curtly. "Brian. If that bastard Hawkins has got anything to do with this, it will give me great pleasure to remove various parts of his anatomy in....."

  "Not Brian," asserted Evelyn. "I know you don't like him, John. I don't care for him much either but, well, it just doesn't figure...."

  "Figures a bloody sight better than anything else I can think of," said Tyler.

  Evelyn made a call home and was relieved to hear that his wife was alright. A little panicky, but that was not unusual. She had heard that Keith had been hurt but thought he had just fallen somewhere and did not seem aware of anything more sinister. Evelyn decided not to say any more.

  Paul had no close friends, male or female. He merely wanted to see justice done and events were making him impatient.

  "Where the hell are you, Michaelis?" he shouted at the queue of cars lining up across the road outside the building. He had not actually spoken to Michaelis but he had arranged with Mrs Ziparis that her husband come to meet them and also to bring Brian Hawkins down for a meeting. At that time he had not known about Sally, Keith and the others. Michaelis' wife had given no hint of being aware either.

  A dark blue Mercedes 450SE drove in and flashed its lights.

  "Good. Now let's get out of this place," he muttered to himself.

  Michaelis was normally a very steady, careful driver. His large, automatic car seldom exceeded 70mph, even on motorways. Evelyn was glad, in a way, sitting, as he was, in the 'suicide seat' of the left-hand drive car. Such a feeling, though, was short-lived. A white Rover 3500 police car came up behind them, its siren screaming and blue lights flashing. Michaelis' demeanour instantly changed from quiet gentleness to steely determination as he pushed the accelerator hard to the floor and released the power of the smooth engine to the rear wheels. Paul and John Tyler looked behind briefly as the car surged forward, increasing the distance between the two vehicles. As if on elastic, the Rover began to close again. The exit tunnel from the airport which ran under the M4 lay just a few hundred yards in front of them but before that was a junction where exit routes from the three other terminal areas converged. The traffic lights were at red. The Rover switched lanes and started to pull up on the left-hand side. Michaelis swerved to the right lane, inches in front of a green and white-striped coach. A shout from the police car was drowned by the barrage of insults from the coach driver as the Mercedes slowed at the red light. The Rover was now hidden from their view by a massive truck in the centre lane. The police car veered out - jumping the lights - and swung across the front of the truck to try and cut off Michaelis but he had spotted a gap in the cross traffic and went for it. Diving into the stream of traffic side by side with Rover he chanced a glance at the grim-faced police driver waving him down. He put two fingers to the window and swept down into the orange glow of the tunnel. The police car was caught up behind a slow Marina that could not get out of the way and Michaelis gained ground, snaking his way forward, lights ablaze, benefiting from the siren behind him being mistaken by vehicles ahead as coming from his car. At the end of the tunnel he took as straight a path a possible from the inside lane of the roundabout to the carriageway ahead, catching the verge as he went. Some distance had now spread out between the two cars and the speedo needle climbed to 110 in the next mile stretch of motorway, rotating wildly anti-clockwise as the Mercedes braked hard to take the first exit at the roundabout to follow the M4 heading west. By now he figured that the police would have notified motorway patrols so he had to move quickly and reach the next junction before a patrol did. The Rover's light could be seen emerging onto the motorway some two hundred yards behind. It would not be enough so escape would depend on sheer speed in a straight line over the next six miles.

  The needle's climb slowed at 120...125...130, a little more but the engine would not take it to the 140 mark. It seemed to be enough, however, as the Rover was not closing the gap and the outside lane was clear. The police would not have their normal advantage of their quarry having to slow because of traffic ahead. A junction sign appeared and flashed by. The next mile would take only about thirty seconds and Michaelis decided to gamble on it not being already covered by another police car. If he went any further down the motorway then he would almost certainly allow time for the police to arrange support to head them off.

  The two inner lanes were busier here as the traffic turning off slowed in the last hundred yards. Michaelis could not risk reducing his speed until the very last possible moment.

  A Volvo truck occupied the centre lane, pounding along at over 70mph. Michaelis calculated that he could just make the turn in front of it and catch the junction with the Rover having no chance at all because of the vehicles behind the truck. He had allowed the gap to close slightly, too, which would make it even more difficult for the police car. The siren was now loud behind them but louder still was the squeal of protest from the fat tyres as the Mercedes lurched to the left, sending the three rear passengers flying to the right. The truck, as Michaelis had hoped, braked hard and the Rover driver, realising that he could not get around the front of the truck, tried to turn to go behind it. The sudden deceleration of the truck, though, prevented that move but it was too late. The wedge shaped nose dived and smashed into the back of the truck. As glass splintered and the bonnet crumpled at the front, the rear of the car spun round and another car that had been some way behind before plunged straight into the side of the Rover. A series of cars and trucks then piled into each other across all three lanes..

  Michaelis eased back in his seat and calmly swung round the roundabout, taking the last turn off and then immediately left into a lane. A few turns later, he pulled off the road and parked under some trees. He looked round at his passengers, grinning widely.

  "Well done, Mike!" said Tyler, not meaning to be particularly complimentary. "Now what?"

  "Well folks," he replied, "they obviously want us for something. I guess they think you guys have got something to do with some of your friends' problems."

  "You know bloody well we haven't!" Evelyn was flustered. He wiped his forehead, then his neck, with a handkerchief. "Now we really do have a problem. I don't know why the hell you didn't stop..."

  "OK, OK. Look. We can't just sit here. Before the police start asking me questions," interrupted Tyler, "I've got some of my own. I want to see Brian Hawkins. He's the only one who knows where we were."

  "This car's marked now, boys," said Paul. "Drop us off at John's place, Michaelis, and we'll take his car. Put the Merc in your friend's garage - no one'll find it for a while."

  "I've had enough excitement fo
r one day," said Evelyn. "Leave me out of it. Drop me at the station - I'll give you a ring, John, when things have settled down a bit. Someone's got to be at home anyway, in case we get some news from Bob or Chris."

  "OK," agreed Michaelis. "You and Paul check out Brian," he said to Tyler. "Use your heads a little, though. If they'd wanted to get you three, the police would have been waiting for you inside. They can't have been after me - they must have followed my car and could have stopped me before quite easily. So there are only two possibilities: one, they do want one or more of you but missed you inside; two, there was no plan, just some sort of check - I don't know, maybe they just thought we looked suspicious or something."

  "Come on - we spent ages inside. There was plenty of time for them to stop us before we came out!" responded Paul.

  "So you've just caused a major disaster on the M4 because you don't want to talk to a bobby about your tax disc being out of date or three men can't get into a left-hand drive Merc without being arrested! That's bloody stupid, Mike!" added Evelyn. "Maybe you should have used your head before doing your Stirling Moss impression...."

  "There is a third possibility," suggested Tyler. "They were looking for Chris and Bob, didn't see them and only decided to stop us when we set off with Michaelis."

  "We'll find out soon enough," commented Paul. "Are we going to stay here all day? Let's get the hell out of here, alright?"

  Chapter XXVII Tina

  "He's a nice old man," said Tina. "No problem."

  "Sorry to leave him with you all day like that," apologised Chris. "How's Jack?"

  "Ha! He sleeps all day and I hope all night, too!"

  "You'd like some more dancing lessons this evening?" suggested Chris.

  "It's my turn to teach you something," replied Tina, mischievously.

  The two were sitting at a table overlooking the harbour in one of the less tourist-swamped, more traditional, bars. Hungry, Chris had finished a reasonable veal steak and pushed the plate to one side. Jack and Bob had gone for a stroll along the shore to where a beach party had looked inviting. Despite his age, Bob would join in the fun and Jack had willingly accompanied him whilst Tina had waited at a previously agreed meeting place for Chris.

  "He was very anxious to make a telephone call, though. I gave him some money because he said that you had all his Greek money," said Tina.

  "Damn! Here, what was it - a thousand?" Chris tossed a brown note on the table, annoyed that Bob's old habits were still prevalent.

  "Who did he call?"

  "I don't know. He did not speak a name - just asked the operator to get a number - 'call collect' he wanted - but it was to someone he knew well. Oh, yes, he asked the person to tell Vi he was OK, with you, and that he would send her a note for CJ."

  "Well done, anyway - thanks," said Chris, pensively.

  He played with her fingers across the table but his mind was miles away. His dilemma was whether to confront Bob with the questions he had - there had been no reference to any of the events in Switzerland, let alone anything else, since arriving on Kos. They were both capable of 'shutting off' those thoughts that they didn't want to come to the fore and the warm sun and the general magic of the atmosphere there tended to help keep the mind away from trying issues. From time to time, however, Chris found it impossible to keep up the act and had to give in to the pressure of a million thoughts bursting to get from the subconscious to conscious and then to the active department of the day's items to be dealt with. It was happening now and the questions were screaming silently within him loud enough to drown the merry sounds of Kardamena by night.

  He had begun to assume, like the others, that Bob could do nothing more for them and never would do anything. He was one of those drifters in the world who ran from place to place, carting old Violet in tow, from one dreamer's life to another, in search of the someone who would take them in, look after them, until either that person realised the emptiness of Bob's wonderful promises and guarantees or the elusive individual with a few spare millions worth of collateral came along, or until he died.

  Bob had to go sometime. He was not young any more and the pile of worries lurking under the fragile wrapping he had placed around each victim's sorrow before locking them in a deep recess of his memory, hopefully never to emerge, but always, perhaps wondering if they might emerge, could not do him any good. With Bob would die any chance of his ever seeing again any of the funds he had lost. For Chris, and how many others. Chris just could not, though, shake off a feeling that Bob was not the terrible con man that everyone accused him of being. Sure he had lied to him. Yes, he had taken large sums of money and, worse still, introduced others who took even more in those golden days when untold wealth seemed just around the corner.

  Chris had convinced High court judges that Bob was an outright villain who used tactics second to none to achieve his objectives. He was free now but still unsure. Bob had never been even questioned by the authorities. Bob certainly knew an incredible number of people in all walks of life, in senior positions in industry and highly influential politicians. The others had recognised that. Despite their change of plan in Switzerland, all the previous discussions had centred on the fact that he did know so many genuine people. He had, either directly or indirectly, 'moved' a vast amount of money, albeit in apparently failed attempts to make even one of those 'deals' work. Evelyn had put together, with Brian's assistance and his own efforts, a scheme which should work. Surely they should have, at least, waited until Bob made some contact before dropping the curtain on the camera. If they hadn't believed in the scheme then why bother to obtain genuine collateral themselves by persuading associates and a wealthy Lord to support them? They could have got as far as they did with false papers. Now here he was, wandering around some Greek island with a weird old American uncertain of just about everything. He had to find answers. He had to know what was in Evelyn's mind. And John's, for God's sake. Michaelis. Where did he fit in? Who was getting killed in the Newlands estate? Who was beating up all his friends? Who could he rely on?

  The mechanics of making love to Tina were simple enough but Chris was distant again almost immediately afterwards. The sea had been stirred slightly by a night breeze and waves lapped at the soft sand just a few metres from where they lay. Tin's yellow dress fluttered and brought his senses back. A warm brown arm clasped him across his chest and he felt her firm breasts press against his back. Fingers ran through his thick hair and down his back, circling round his waist to join the other hand that dropped between his legs. Deftly, they stimulated him once more and Chris lay back as the naked girl moved to sit astride him, carefully seeking the satisfaction he hardly needed to move further to provide. As her movements became more intense, and seemed to concentrate on holding a particular position that was so right, the whole world seemed to turn to a slow, insistent rhythm. The waves lapping, the breeze in the trees, the toot of a horn in town, the throbbing of a distant discotheque and the girl's short breaths. Hypnotised almost by the sense flooding through him, Chris closed his eyes and felt himself float away. Away and up. Above the shore to somewhere over there. Over wherever 'there' is. He dared himself to open his eyes and to look back down. There were two naked bodies gently swaying, so tiny, so far away. A misty circle grew around them until he could make out more and more of the surroundings. Looking up again, he saw the stars sparkling in the black sky. Closer they came and then in colours they came. He blinked and the stars' movement became a blur as if he were about to be enveloped by the sky itself. From above his head came a cry and the soft, warm shadow of skin touched his own, the thousand droplets of perspiration mingling with his own, each small world of a droplet sparkling briefly as it caught the moonlight, then dying as it ran into the darkness again.

  Chapter XXVIII Take Me Out

  Evelyn opened his eyes quickly as the bright morning sun streamed through the window. His wife moved away from the newly-drawn curtains and told him there was a call for him.

  "God, what tim
e is it?" he mumbled, shielding his face from the sun.

  "Ten," came the short reply, "and you've been doing a lot of talking in your sleep, too, my dear," she added. "It's a female - one of your young ladies, no doubt - sounded very nice, though, so it could be you've still got taste."

  Evelyn made his way downstairs and picked up the receiver.

  "Hullo...."

  "Evelyn. Hi. It's Gill. Remember? Chris...."

  "Gill! How are you, darling?"

  "Oh, not too bad, thank you. You sound a bit tired - have I got you out of bed?"

  "Yes, actually, you have," replied Evelyn, honestly, and a shade embarrassedly. He seldom slept late, normally being up and about at dawn. "Us older folk can't keep the hours you youngsters do," he went on in good humour. "How's that prodigal young boyfriend of yours?"

  Gill had prepared an answer for the inevitable question but hated lying so she changed it.

  "I don't know, Evelyn. I haven't seen him for some time now. I thought he might have been in touch with you...."

  "No. No. Er... he might do... Er, where is he?"

  "Pass," said Gill, laughing and getting away with it. "But look, that' not the reason I called, really. Collette suggested I rang you. You know we've all had a lot of strain recently and, well, she tells me it used to be such fun and some of the old crowd were really good together. Well, I know I'm new but if Chris can't take me out - he's probably off with one of his other girlfriends somewhere - you know what he's like - I wondered if you'd be my partner. Sort of escort."

  Evelyn could not resist female company, particularly the attractive, well-educated type that Gill represented. He had been very impressed on the one occasion he had met her before.

  "Of course! It would be a pleasure."

  Then he remembered that there were a few unresolved matters that he had to attend to and thought that perhaps it might not be wise to associate himself too closely with her.