The American Broker

by Andrew Hill

"I see I'm back!" he said to Maria, as he scribbled on the sheet. Maria didn't get the point of the remark and just smiled that sort of smile that gives the appearance of understanding when that is simpler to cope with than protracted further conversation. It was probably of little concern to her now, anyway. She had other things on her mind.

  Maria bent down to pick up her luggage. Chris stepped towards her and placed his own hand on her case handle before she made contact. She glared at him, a curious look which became aggressive as he spoke to her. "Just a precaution," he said, "for both of us. You take mine, and I'll take yours - and this." He pulled the handbag strap down her arm and it hung loosely round the case handle where he maintained a firm grip.

  "What . . ." started Maria, then, as if debating between giving in and creating a scene, she closed her eyes for a couple of seconds then relented and stood erect again.

  Chris placed her bag and cases in the blue car and his own in the white one, handing her the key. "As you were saying, young lady," he said, "we need to talk about arrangements."

  Maria nodded respectfully and agreed to follow him. In case one lost the other they agreed to rendezvous at the outskirts of Kranj. "I will not lose you!" cried Maria, as she got in. "But you may need these!" She tossed a set of keys across to land at Chris' feet. He turned to look in the open door of his car. The ignition keys were not in the lock. He picked up the set lying on the road and looked back at the white car. Maria revved the engine and pulled off. Chris started his car and followed. Drawing level at the exit as they waited for a break in the traffic. He took the first gap available but then let other cars pass him until he saw the white Kadett catching up with him. He then accelerated and the white car responded. As if joined by elastic, the two cars then sped past the slower traffic and out of the built-up area into the greener countryside.

  Chapter LV Farewell Maria

  A pretty, white-painted hotel came into view as Chris came out of a sharp corner just outside Kranj. It appeared to be on a side road running down from the busy main through road and he checked his mirror. The white Kadett sat on his tail still. He indicated right and the other car responded. A small roadway led down to the hotel and they parked at the front entrance. A coach of German origin had just arrived and a melee of tourists spilled out of it, stretching and yawning as if at the end of a long journey. One nudged another and pointed at Chris, carrying Maria's handbag. They laughed but Chris didn't notice.

  "I guess you'll need that." he said, passing it to her. "Dinner's on you, I presume."

  "Thank you," said Maria, not as annoyed as Chris might have expected. They entered in front of the crowd and chose a corner table, set with shining cutlery and flowers on the window ledge overlooking a bumpy field to the rear of the building.

  Initially quiet, the room rapidly filled with the sound and presence of the coach travellers, who seemed to be engaged in twenty or more simultaneous conversations. The distinct accent pervaded the general noise of voices and the chink of cups, saucers and plates. Chris felt noticeably obvious as he ordered in English, and was relieved to find the young waitress able to understand.

  Tearing a roll apart and reaching for a small packet of butter he began to enquire of Maria a little more about what she had meant earlier. " A few kilometres up the road we part company. What then?" he started.

  "The American will reach either Lobl pass or Wurzenpasse late tonight at the earliest." Maria spoke and Chris nodded as she outlined the theory of the plan that had, so far, become practice. From now, it had to remain theory but she tried to allow for all eventualities. "But it is more likely that the people he is with will not journey all night. We do not know where they stopped last night but it would be very difficult to get there before ten or eleven and, I think, impossible to arrive before we do. Wurzenpasse is no more than an hour and a half away for me. Lobl is nearer. If they stop somewhere on the road tonight then it would be at anytime tomorrow. I hope it is not longer than that but it doesn't matter. A problem for Mr Lindon will be if the people want to go through Italy. It is quite possible - they may want to go that way."

  "We said that Bob wouldn't go that way," said Chris.

  "Yes, we can be sure of that. He will know which way they are going and will just change to another car if that happens. Maybe already he has changed - who knows? But, in this country there is not the same freedom for tourists as in my country. It is not possible to walk along the road and hitchhike, as you call it. Well, it is possible, but the police would stop you. Also, most of the traffic is commercial -trucks and vans - not many of them will stop and he'll have to be very lucky to find someone who, one, is going a better way for him, two, has room and three, agrees to take a strange person anyway. No, I think he has to come through one of these two places tomorrow."

  "I agree." Chris had come to a similar conclusion. Despite the American's remarkable abilities, he rather cut down his options when he selected his transport from Thessaloniki. That was his last opportunity to choose until he reaches Austria. "So, we're looking for a red Peugeot, still."

  "Hmm. But it will be necessary to look at every other vehicle too!"

  "Christ! That'll take some doing." exclaimed Chris.

  "Sure, but again, we have to be reasonable. We cannot go on thinking that he is in the trunk or under the back seat. Remember, Chris, he cannot know we will be waiting. If I had not been with you, he would be completely free by now. You would have no idea of where he had gone, and wouldn't have been able to get here before him even if you had. No. He will not be worrying about you or me at the moment. He thinks he has some free days. It should not be difficult to watch each car go by. There are not so many and, anyway, the frontier guards are so slow. They stop all cars. The road is narrow and no one goes quickly. You just have to find a place to wait. It is better in the car - use the hired car and park the English car somewhere else. When are you meeting the girl?"

  "About ten tonight - at the Loibl border, this side." Chris replied.

  "She will be tired."

  "Yes. Fantastic journey for her but she won't have had time to admire the scenery. Pity."

  "There is no hotel nearby. She will have to sleep in the car. It will be cold at night and you cannot afford to risk falling asleep yourself. Do you have an alarm?"

  "Yes."

  "Set it for an hour, every hour. That will reduce the chance of your missing anything until she has rested. Then he can take over and you can get some sleep until you are both feeling fresher." Maria issued commands like a machine. Chris did not cross her. She was in charge at the moment. It was an important plan and she was right in what she said.

  "And don't make love," she added, hesitating for the first time.

  The thought had not, until then, dwelt in his mind for more than a fleeting moment. He didn't know what to say. He found himself recalling the increasing fondness he felt for Collette and yet restrained by thoughts of Gill. "I don't think that's something you have to worry about," he said, avoiding her gaze. "She and Gill seem to have got pretty close . . ."

  "Gill?" Maria had not heard the name before.

  "Never mind." said Chris, firmly, now glaring at her. "It's a long story. And I can behave myself - "

  Maria looked at him, her eyes darting from his to the table and back.

  "- you should know that." he added

  "No," she argued, "but, as you say, it's a long story . ." She drew a sharp breath and leaned back as two large oval plates arrived, bearing thick slices of rump steak. Side trays with chips and salad were placed at the end of the table. Maria ordered a bottle of wine and Chris nodded approvingly, putting his glass of water to one side and making room for the fresh glass and bottle. Maria took the opportunity to resume her planning.

  "How you proceed when you do see him is not so easy," she continued.

  "I've got some ideas."

  "You'll need more than ideas." Maria outlined the methods but accepted that much would depend on circumstances.

  "Tell m
e:" said Chris, after she had dealt with what he might encounter, "what happens if he goes your way?"

  "The same," said Maria. "In one way it will not be so easy - he may not be at all pleased to see Michaelis, but in another way it will be more certain, more organised - we are professionals."

  "With a cause," added Chris. "And more information such as where do we meet afterwards - how am I to know that you won't disappear with the man and leave me and Collette with nothing but a long drive home and a bootful of memories."

  "You don't. But we both take the same chance. He could go your way or ours. A 50-50 chance for each of us. Michaelis plans to fly from Saltzburg. You can make your own plans. Here is a number - call if you have him. We will do the same. It is a person whose job is only to pass messages so do not give too much information. Michaelis will contact you anyway in a few days - whatever happens."

  "What about you?" asked Chris.

  "Me? I return to Athini. Sometimes we have to work, you know"

  "Will we meet again?"

  "Probably not. Well, maybe I can come to England to celebrate Michaelis' new film success."

  "Or maybe I come to Greece for the Coronation." said Chris.

  They finished their food without any further reference to events past or future.

  Chapter LVI Welcome Collette

  The Loiblpasse border station was dramatic in its bleakness. A small concrete building had been erected in the middle of a narrow road at the entrance to a long ill-lit tunnel. On one side, grey rock towered up and away, rusting wire fences bulging with fallen stones. On the other side was a rough stone car park area in front of an exchange bureau bearing a hand-painted blue and white sign nailed to the wooden frontage. Beyond the small level area, the tips of trees indicated an immediate and steep fall and some inestimable distance across the valley Chris could make out the shape of a twisting road amongst the dark greens of pine. Behind him the road came directly up from a hairpin bend about three hundred yards away from which a wonderful view extended down the valley. The early evening sun gave one side a reddish hue and brought an early autumn hue to spring deciduous greens far below. It also left the other side of the valley in deep shade. He could just make out the movement of minute vehicles in the darkness and realised that he had himself travelled along that very route, hugging the contours of the memorable mountains as they rose ever higher.

  He watched the cars pass by slowly. No heavy lorries would normally attempt this route. It was steep - 1 in 3 at one point further back - and wide enough only for two cars at several places. A local bus plodded its weary way to join the queue that developed. A gust of black smoke came from its exhaust as the driver slipped the clutch and revved hard to prevent further movement backwards. The car behind sounded its horn in protest. He looked at his watch. Seven thirty. Looking round again, he returned to the blue Kadett containing his own luggage and moved it across the road to the place he identified as being the easiest from which to spot passengers. Bright search lights running the whole length of the road for about fifty yards from the frontier post would make night observation reasonably simple but it was not a red Peugeot estate he awaited at this time. It was an English registration coming through the tunnel. From where he was parked, he would see the car before Collette saw him standing beside his. He preferred it that way.

  Noticing a couple returning from the car park to their car next to his with a plastic beaker of coffee, Chris locked his car and strode over to see where it had come from. A small timber building at the side of the Customs office bore a sign indicating a variety of refreshments. Chris fumbled in his pocket for some dinar and found a few crumpled notes. He bought a slab of chocolate and a beaker of Coca-Cola then turned to walk back to the car. As he did so a brief sound of a car horn made him look up. The lights flashed on a grey Opel Monza, its long, raked bonnet and large front spoiler streaked with fine lines from a long, all-weather journey.

  A bright-eyed young girl called "Hi!" from the open window. The door opened and she ran towards him, her reddish tinted hair swirling back. Chris tried to say something but no words came. He just stood, a beaker in one hand and chocolate in the other, as Collette threw her arms round him and hugged him with delight. "Told you I'd make it." she murmured in his ear, as she rested her head on his shoulder. Chris threw away the drink and let the chocolate drop, putting his arms around her. She moved her head and looked at him. He started to say something but found her lips on his in the next instant. He responded and tightened his hold on her. No rehearsed phrases. No clichés. Just an exchange of quiet affection. Eventually they parted and Chris noticed her bare feet. He giggled and looked around. Several passers-by had stopped to gaze at the pair. The car door still lay open and a cassette was playing inside. Collette let go of Chris's hands and they went over to the car.

  "Any problems?" he asked.

  "No. It was a wonderful journey!" enthused Collette. "Here, take hold of these . . ." She passed a couple of bags to Chris from the back of the car.

  "Great!" said Chris. "Food and . . what's this?" He held up a bottle of unidentified liquid.

  "Home made wine." answered Collette. "Dandelion. Had a hell of a time at the Italian border. The label came off and they said they'd have to sample some! I don't know whether they were having me on or not but, well, there's quite a bit left."

  "Right. Leave the car here. I've got that little Kadett on the other side of the road. We can keep watch while we're talking."

  "Coming. You've got a lot of explaining to do. I can't get answers from anyone. Funny, though; I feel safer here, despite everything that's going on, than I do at home."

  They both sat in the small hire car and Chris brought Collette up to date on Bob Lindon's escape, leaving out selected chunks for convenience, and his own conscience, sake, but detailing their current task. Collette was suspicious of Maria. "Could I have been followed?" she asked, without the nervousness Chris might have expected.

  "Anything's possible. That much I've come to appreciate, but I really doubt it. Bob's the centre of attention. It's him everyone's after. He's the one that either has or hasn't got something and that's what we're going to find out."

  "What I don't like . . ." started Collette. "What I don't like is how everyone seems to know more than you do. I don't mean to be unfair but it's true. Maria. Michaelis. Evelyn. John . . "

  "John. How is he?"

  "Not very happy. I saw him last night when I went to collect the key from Gill's flat . . ."

  It was the first time Gill had been mentioned. Both of them realised that. Collette faltered and her voice softened. "She's . . . oh, Chris, I'm sorry. Really I am." She started to cry and Chris pulled her gently across towards him. She sobbed in his arms. Chris knew what he wanted to say but found the words awkward. He made a great effort.

  "I know it sounds stupid but, well, you seem to be . . ."

  Collette stopped crying and finished his sentence. " . . . I seem to be her. I know. I feel like her. Collette could never have done this on her own. I'm sad for her. And you. And yet not sad. She's here - " she brushed her hand across her face, resting it on her forehead, " - sort of inside my head. Sometimes on the way here I looked at my hands on the wheel and they didn't feel like they were part of me. Believe me, though, Chris. I don't mean any harm. It's . . . it's what she wants. If you can only understand . . ."

  "I do." said Chris firmly, "I do."

  Collette sat up again. Wiping the tears from her face, she continued to describe her meeting with Tyler. Chris listened in silence. When she finished he looked worried. "I don't want anyone to know we're here," he said, "but as soon as we've got Bob - or Michaelis gets him - we must get in touch with John. I want to know what happened last night. Bob may not be running away from us to save his own skin. There's someone who means more to him than his own life. Someone to whom life is precious because its chance of continuing is so slim. Someone that I wasn't meant to know anything about. A father is trying to get to see his son, Coll
ette. His son. His real son. You know how you feel like Gill - well, I often feel like I'm Bob's child. But to make you feel that way, something terrible had to happen. Gill is in a coma. She can't enact her own self - and you feel stronger. The weaker she is, the stronger and more like her you are. It's the same for me. When I fight and assert myself on my own ground, I'm me and Bob becomes the old con man everyone else thinks he is. But when I'm down, I need him - at least, that's the way it used to be, but recently it's all changed. I've felt stronger towards him and stronger within myself for no good reason. I haven't exactly done much to be proud of recently. I haven't been down. I haven't been weak. But maybe someone else has and someone whose place I am slowly taking. Oh God! I think this is meant to be. I don't understand it but, you, Gill, Bob and I'm guessing, but I think his son is part of this, are all involved. Someone like Michaelis could possibly appreciate it. Could be that he's known all along somehow. You know he is so sensitive, and it's strange that he always - as you said - knows a little more than anyone else does. And who's arranged this so far? Not me. I've just followed a plan. Michaelis knows, I'm sure."

  "Chris, I think I know what you mean but it's weird. This whole place is weird. You and me - a tiny frontier post in the Alps. Are you going to call him?"

  "No. Bob's on his way. We'll wait. If he doesn't show by eleven, we'll call. Now, where's that wine?"

  Collette turned to reach into the back for her bag. As she did so, she leaned across slightly and brushed a kiss on Chris's cheek, whispering: "You're crazy . . . but we love you."

  Chapter LVII Familiar Words

  Whether it had been the wine, the journey or a combination of the two, Chris couldn't tell, but Collette was fast asleep in a short while. The sky had darkened and the bright lights above bathed the road in an unnatural whiteness.

  Few vehicles passed now and Chris was easily able to observe the occupants. None even faintly resembled Bob Lindon. A Peugeot estate of the type they sought arrived but was a pale orange colour and of Austrian origin. Nevertheless, Chris had walked over to it, peering in the side window and catching unawares an old lady munching an apple. The driver called something to him. Chris had walked away, holding a hand up in apology.