‘Good morning, Peppercorn,’ Gant said, his eyes not leaving Steadman’s. ‘And this is Mr Steadman?’ He raised a hand towards the investigator and once again, Steadman noticed the amusement flicker in them.
Reluctantly, Steadman grasped the proffered hand and returned the hardness of Gant’s grip. The investigator loosened his hold, but the arms dealer held it firm and he was forced to resume his own pressure. There were no secrets between them as they stood that way for several seconds. Gant seemed to see into him and mocked what he saw; Steadman returned the unspoken challenge and even allowed his own glint of amusement to show. He noticed there were many tiny scars around the arms dealer’s cheeks and mouth, only visible at such close range, and he briefly wondered what kind of accident would cause such a proliferation.
His hand was abruptly released and the investigator was uncertain if he hadn’t imagined the whole exchange.
‘This is Major Brannigan,’ Gant said, inclining his body towards the soldier who had followed him. The major leaned forward and gave a swift handshake to Steadman and Peppercorn. He was a few inches shorter than Gant, and Steadman judged him to be in his early forties. Whereas he had detected the mockery in the arms dealer’s eyes, Brannigan’s showed an unrelenting hardness.
‘And this is Miss Holly Miles who is taking advantage of her distant relationship to my late wife,’ Gant said, stepping aside to allow a view of the girl who had followed both men and had been hidden by their tall figures.
‘Louise Gant and my mother were cousins – of sorts,’ she smiled apologetically and Steadman was surprised to hear her American accent, but then he remembered Gant’s wife had come from the United States. He nodded at her and she acknowledged with a broader smile, flicking her long yellow hair to one side and behind an ear with delicate fingers. He noticed the Pentax draped around her neck.
‘Pictures? Here?’ he said quizzically.
‘I’m a freelance writer,’ she explained with a grin. ‘I’m doing a feature on arms dealers for one of the Sunday magazines.’
‘She used her flimsy connections with my family to persuade the magazine to give her the commission,’ Gant interrupted, but his mocking tones now had more amusement in them than malice. Nevertheless there was a disquieting quality to his voice, a rasping sibilance that was slight, but seemed to create unease in the people around him. ‘Major Brannigan is keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn’t photograph the wrong things.’
Brannigan did not seem in the least amused.
‘Now, Mr Steadman,’ Gant said, his voice suddenly becoming brusque. ‘Peppercorn tells me you have a client who is in the market for certain types of weapons which I have a reputation for producing rather well.’
‘That’s right,’ Steadman answered, his attention now diverted back to the arms dealer.
‘May we establish from the start who your client is?’
‘I’m afraid that will have to wait until I’m satisfied you can meet all our requirements,’ Steadman countered.
‘Very well, that’s not unusual. Can you tell me specifically what you are looking for?’
‘There’s quite a list. I have our broad order for you here.’ Steadman produced an envelope containing a detailed list, compiled by himself and Goldblatt, of armaments and defensive equipment that Israel would logically need but were, at the moment, obtained from other sources. It had a bias towards the type of weapons produced in Gant’s factories. He handed it to the arms dealer. ‘I believe you manufacture most of these items.’
Gant scrutinized the list, nodding occasionally. ‘Yes, most of these are in our range,’ he said, and Steadman suddenly found it difficult to believe it was all a charade. The arms dealer appeared to be perfectly sincere. ‘I have a few other items, in fact, that you might also be interested in. Our new laser sniper rifle, for example, accurate up to a distance of half a mile. Our submachine-gun, similar to the Ingram but far more accurate, made with many plastic components and very cheaply mass-produced.’ The mockery seemed to return to Gant’s eyes then, and he said, ‘I also have certain kinds of missiles, small and convenient to launch, but with enough power to bring down a Jumbo jet.’
There seemed to be some special significance to the words, for Gant said them slowly and deliberately, his gaze fixed steadily on Steadman and throwing out some kind of challenge.
‘Sounds interesting,’ he said, and was suddenly aware that the exchange had not gone unnoticed among the other members of the small group. There was a tenseness in their silence. Even the girl had a puzzled expression on her face.
‘You think your client could have a use for such a weapon?’ Gant asked, raising his eyebrows.
‘Possibly. It would depend on the price,’ Steadman answered.
‘Of course. Would you like to see it?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Difficult to demonstrate, of course.’ Gant gave a small laugh and Steadman smiled back agreeably. ‘But I think we can show you its range and power. Why don’t you ring me at my office tomorrow and we’ll fix something. Peppercorn has the number.’
‘That would be fine.’
‘In the meantime, I’ll go through your list and work out some figures for you. I take it your client isn’t too frightened of figures, is he?’ Again the mocking tones.
‘It takes more than that,’ said Steadman, still smiling.
‘Yes, I’m sure. You must excuse me now. I’m afraid our visitors from Latin America are rather demanding today,’ he gestured towards the gathering he had just left, ‘and I think they’re in a buying mood. And you, too, Miss Miles, will have to forgive my rudeness. I’m afraid business transactions of this nature might embarrass your magazine. If not, perhaps our government, if they saw it in print. Why not take the time to tell Mr Steadman the nature of your article on armament sales and show him some of the nasty weapons you’ve discovered here today. He may have a view on the subject.’
With one last glance at Steadman, he turned and walked back to his group of impatient foreign buyers.
‘Er, yes, I’m afraid I have certain duties to perform, too,’ Major Brannigan suddenly said. ‘I’ll have to take your camera with me, though. I’m sure you’ve got enough shots for today, anyway.’ He held a hand out and, with a shrug, the girl lifted the Pentax from her neck and gave it to the major. ‘Thank you,’ Brannigan said. ‘I’ll send it down to the sergeant on the gate and you can collect it when you leave.’ With that, he strode briskly away.
‘Well, that was short and sweet,’ said Peppercorn turning to Steadman and the girl. ‘I think Gant will show you some things that’ll surprise you, Harry.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ the investigator said wryly.
‘Now then, Miss Miles,’ the solicitor said, turning on the charm. ‘It’s very rare to find such blue-denimed beauty at these functions. Makes a welcome change from khaki. Why don’t we all wander down to the big top and have a little drink?’
The girl glanced at Steadman and he said, ‘I could use one.’
‘Okay, so could I. Lead on.’
Once inside the large tent, Peppercorn threw himself in quest of drinks into the crowd that pressed itself to the bar, leaving Steadman and the American journalist alone.
‘Are you really a distant relative of Gant’s?’ Steadman asked her, finding her face an agreeable distraction from the tension before.
She laughed. ‘Well, let’s say my mother was a distant cousin to Mr Gant’s late wife. I’m surprised he still allowed me to interview him, though. These arms dealers are usually shy people.’
‘Yes, publicity is one thing they don’t need. I’m surprised he did.’
‘It took a long, long time, I can tell you. Then suddenly, last week, right out of the blue, he agreed.’
‘What changed his mind?’ Steadman asked, puzzled.
‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps his wife’s memory stirred his conscience; he had little enough to do with her relatives when she was alive.’
‘Do y
ou know what she died of?’
‘Yes. She was killed in a car crash.’
‘Have you found out much about him? He seems a very private man.’
‘He is. But I’ve spent some days with him and he’s let me photograph most of what I want. He suddenly seems to want to exploit his name – well maybe not quite his name, but the new weapons he’s producing, at least.’ She frowned and bit the nail on the small finger of her right hand. ‘I don’t know, it’s as if he’s suddenly emerging from his dark shell, and actively seeking publicity.’
The idea somehow worried Steadman. Why should a man like Edward Gant, whose business transactions had always been kept in the shadows, suddenly emerge into the public eye? It made little sense.
He decided to change the subject. ‘How long have you been in England?’ he asked.
‘Oh, about six months now. I used to roam the world before that, writing stories, taking pictures to go with them. I used to work for a syndicate, but now I prefer to find my own commissions. It makes me feel more free to come and go as I like.’
Peppercorn returned at that moment, carrying a Campari for the girl, vodka for Steadman and a gin drowned in tonic for himself, all precariously held in two hands.
‘Look, Harry,’ he said urgently. ‘I’ve just bumped into a couple of people I know. It could lead to a nice little bit of business for me so I’ve rather selfishly arranged to have a spot of lunch with them. I hope you don’t mind?’
Steadman shook his head, taking the Campari and vodka from his friend’s outstretched fingers. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I could meet you back here afterwards and take you back to town,’ the solicitor said anxiously.
‘It’s okay. I’ll catch a train.’
‘I could give you a lift,’ said the girl.
‘Ah, there you are, all settled.’ Peppercorn grinned with satisfaction.
‘Fine,’ said Steadman, taking a swallow of his drink. The vodka scorched his throat, but it felt good.
‘Right, must get back to them, Harry,’ said the solicitor. ‘I’ll get my secretary to give you Gant’s telephone number.’ He was already moving away. ‘Let me know how you get on and when you want me to do my bit. ’Bye for now, er, Miss Miles. Hope to see you again.’
The girl chuckled at the solicitor’s retreating figure as it backed into a black-skinned dignitary who looked at him with wide-eyed alarm.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ Steadman said as her attention returned to him.
‘I have to report back to the magazine, anyway. They’ll want to know my progress.’ She looked directly into Steadman’s eyes. ‘Tell me about yourself. Have you always been involved in the sale of weapons?’
‘No, not always. I’ve spent a good portion of my life in the Army.’
Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t look the military type,’ she said.
Steadman grinned, presuming the girl meant it as a compliment.
‘What made you leave?’ she asked, sipping at the Campari.
‘Oh, I decided I’d had enough of the British Army. There were other things to do.’
‘Like buying and selling arms?’
‘Among other things. I eventually joined an enquiry agency.’
‘An enquiry agency? You’re a gumshoe?’
Steadman laughed. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been called that.’
Holly laughed with him. ‘Sorry. You don’t look like Sam Spade either.’
‘Not many of us do. As a matter of fact, my partner . . .’ He suddenly broke off and Holly saw the pain in his eyes.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
Steadman took a large swallow of vodka, then answered, ‘I was going to say my partner is a woman. She’s dead now.’
‘I’m sorry, Harry.’
He shrugged.
‘Was it recent?’ she asked, then was puzzled by the strange smile on his face and the hardness in his eyes.
‘Very,’ he replied. ‘Let’s drop it, eh? Tell me more about your article. Any startling discoveries about Gant?’ The question was put lightly, but Holly sensed its seriousness.
‘Oh, I haven’t got that close. Everything I’ve seen, everything he’s told me, all seems studied, as though he’s only revealing a top layer. I get the feeling there’s plenty more layers underneath. Usually, when you do this kind of in-depth study of a person, you find out certain things by accident – a slip of the tongue, or maybe they get carried away with their own reminiscences. But Edward Gant’s information has been guarded all along. I just can’t get under the surface.’
‘You’ve been to his home?’
‘The one near Guildford, yes. I spent two days there and he’s invited me back again. It’s a small mansion in about six or seven acres of grounds; very quiet, very private.’
‘Does he have another place?’
‘Well, it seems so. When I was there he seemed to have a constant steam of visitors – some were important people, too – and I did hear them making arrangements for some kind of get-together in his home on the West Coast. Gant was deliberately vague when I asked him about it though, but he did say it was a testing ground for some of his more powerful weapons.’
‘Do you know exactly where it is?’
‘No. I asked directly, but he told me that in the arms business and especially with innovatory weapons, testing sites were strictly private and their locations, as far as possible, kept secret. He clammed up after that.’
‘These visitors. You said some were important.’
‘You’re kind of curious, aren’t you? I guess that goes with the job, huh?’
‘I guess it does,’ Steadman said. ‘Really, it’s just that I want to know as much about Gant as possible so I can make sure I get a good deal for my clients. It might help to know his connections, that’s all.’
‘Okay. ’Nough said. A couple of them were politicians – minor ones, I may add. The others I recognized as industrialists and a few of your City guys. I can’t put names to their faces, though.’
‘Never mind. Would you like another?’ Steadman pointed to the girl’s empty glass.
‘Er, no. I think I’d like to get back to town now. Are you ready to leave?’
Steadman drained his glass, then nodded. As he took Holly’s arm and guided her through the crowded tent, the morning’s displays over, the preliminary discussions having taken place, he caught sight of Major Brannigan listening politely to a foreign visitor. The major caught his eye, but gave no acknowledgement.
Steadman and the girl left the tent and the major’s eyes followed them until they had disappeared from view.
Holly led the investigator towards her car, a bright yellow Mini. They climbed in and Holly snapped on her seat-belt. The car threaded its way through the other parked vehicles and turned into the gravelled roadway. It picked up speed and they left the display area with its business-like stands and array of sophisticated machinery of death.
‘Tell me, Harry,’ Holly said. ‘Do you ever get a conscience about the weapons you buy?’
‘Occasionally,’ he replied, ‘but greed generally manages to overcome it.’
She looked at him quickly, surprised at his rancour.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to sound high-minded.’
He studied her profile for a few moments, then said, ‘I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s really a question of who you’re buying for. There are certain countries and groups I would have nothing to do with, while there are others I have every sympathy for. Of course, dealers aren’t supposed to have sympathy for any particular cause, it should be strictly business, but there are laws governing just who they can sell to.’
‘And do you have a sympathy for the cause of the people you are negotiating for?’
‘I used to,’ was all he would say.
The road was winding through the wooded area now and the ground on either side was thick with fallen leaves. Steadman turned to the girl a
gain and could not help glancing down at her body, her long legs bent to accommodate the slightly cramped space of the Mini. Her wrists were slender, yet handled the wheel firmly, and there was a quiet strength about her that had not been apparent on first sight. She suddenly turned her head towards him, feeling his gaze on her, and for a brief moment, something passed between them. Her attention went back to the road and he wondered if he had only imagined the understanding in her look.
He, too, turned his head back towards the road, and it was at that moment that the tank roared from the trees on their left.
6
‘Brutality is respected. Brutality and physical strength. The plain man in the street respects nothing but brutal strength and ruthlessness – women, too, for that matter, women and children. The people need wholesome fear. They want to fear something. They want someone to frighten them and make them shudderingly submissive. Haven’t you seen everywhere that after boxing matches, the beaten ones are the first to join the party as new members? Why babble about brutality and be indignant about tortures? The masses want that. They need something that will give them a thrill of horror.’
Adolf Hitler
The girl saw the Chieftain emerging from the trees a fraction of a second later than Steadman. Instinctively, her foot jammed down on the accelerator and the little car surged forward in an effort to escape the fifty-two tons of crushing metal.
Steadman automatically pushed himself away from his side of the car, thankful that he wasn’t restricted by a seat-belt, and taking care not to crowd the girl. Their lives depended on her reaction. The tank looked larger in his window-framed vision until it filled the rectangular shape completely, and the investigator clenched his teeth against the anticipated impact. But the blackness left the window nearest to him and he knew there might just be a chance to squeeze by the cumbersome monster.
The Spear Page 7
