Charlie Muffin U.S.A. cm-4 Page 16

  ‘Our lawyers would never endorse it,’ persisted Willoughby.

  ‘They might if something did happen to the exhibition,’ argued Charlie. ‘And I’m not concerned if we have to back down in two or three days. The effect I’m hoping for will have been achieved by then, or it never will.’

  ‘Are you sure this is necessary to protect the cover?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have bothered calling you if I hadn’t been.’

  ‘It could expose the company to a certain amount of ridicule,’ said Willoughby reluctantly.

  ‘What’s more important, minor ridicule or?3,000,000?’

  ‘I’ll do it if it’s the only way.’

  ‘It is. Don’t forget the press release to the American news agencies. That’s most important.’

  Charlie eased himself down into the bed. He still had time to sleep before any response. And all that bloody walking had made him very tired.

  General Valery Kalenin was such a self-contained man that there had been very few occasions in his life when he had ever been dumbfounded. But had he been asked, which he never was, he would have readily admitted to open-mouthed surprise as he had sat in his bare office, working his way through the photographs that Williamson had provided and had discovered within minutes a picture of a man he knew so well.

  Kalenin had never been completely satisfied that Charlie Muffin had perished in the mysterious mid-air explosion of the American Air Force plane. That plane, it had taken him six months to discover, had been returning at least fifty C.I.A. men to Washington after the London vengeance hunt in which Charlie’s wife had died. The charred passport and items of personal belongings discovered in the wreckage had invited belief, of course. But for someone who knew Charlie as well as Kalenin did, it also invited the idea that the material had been planted aboard a plane destroyed in retribution for what had happened to the woman.

  Charlie Muffin had been a rare man, remembered the K.G.B. chief. He did not think he had ever encountered anyone so professional, nor so vindictive in the face of personal challenge. Kalenin had often thought back with surprise at how short-sighted had been those people who took over the British department in which Charlie had been such a success and judged him dispensable. Not only had the decision been a waste of an agent whom Kalenin had often wished he could have had within his own department. It had also guaranteed the inevitable reaction from Charlie.

  Abruptly Kalenin remembered his dinner guest of the previous evening. Because of Charlie it had been possible to bring back Berenkov to Russia within three years of his sentence. The man knew it, because Charlie had initially been so involved in Berenkov’s capture and his later interrogation that an odd respect had developed between them.

  In the early months of his return to the Soviet Union, Berenkov had frequently asked for news of Charlie, guessing at the hunted existence the man had created for himself and wanting to know of his success in surviving. It would be pleasant, being able to give Berenkov the information for which he had so often been anxious.

  The thought of Charlie’s personal safety reminded Kalenin of the operation he had initiated. He lounged back in his chair, contemplating the effect of his knowledge. He wanted to know a great deal more, he decided. A very great deal more. And certainly the last thing he now desired was to have Charlie Muffin assassinated. Deciding that the urgency demanded telephone rather than cable communication, he reached out towards the instrument which would connect him, via repeater stations that would disguise the true origin of the call, to the American capital, hoping as he did so that he was not too late to prevent Williamson carrying out the instruction to kill whoever it was who had his identity. He stopped, smiling, with his hand above the telephone. There was little risk of that, he reassured himself. Charlie was a survivor.

  20

  There was a dichotomy between Pendlebury’s appearance and habits and the way he regulated his work-life. As uncaring and casual as he was about himself and as distrustful as he was of restricting regulations, he nevertheless organised every assignment with painstaking care and efficiency, and so it was with this, the biggest operation in which he had ever been involved.

  Aware from the electronic eavesdropping of every detail of Chambine’s robbery, Pendlebury had devised a plan which covered and then nullified every stage of it and made the failure of Terrilli’s entrapment virtually impossible.

  Pendlebury thought of it as a ripple effect, in reverse, so arranged that as Chambine’s men passed through a series of checkpoints, the bands would draw together behind them, finally creating around the Breakers and Terrilli’s mansion a noose from which it would be impossible to escape.

  Because he knew the robbery was scheduled for Thursday, he sensibly had not bothered to utilise the vast force at his disposal, maintaining instead the necessary but reduced surveillance teams and resting the remainder until the moment they would be needed.

  He had assumed that the thieves would make the journey from Disneyworld to Palm Beach by road during Thursday, but just in case arranged to have a helicopter available at Orlando, should they charter a small aircraft. The watchers at the Contemporary Resort would trigger the whole operation with their notification to the communications unit that the six men were on their way. Between Disneyworld and Palm Beach, Pendlebury proposed to establish twelve radio-controlled cars from which he was confident he would be able to maintain absolute but undetected observation. The immediate surveillance vehicles were to be staffed by agents from the Lantana and Lake Worth contingents and as they started to move, so Pendlebury had arranged for the units in Miami, Boynton Beach and Fort Pierce to close in on Palm Beach, concentrating his force at the spot where it was needed. By the time Chambine’s men crossed the Flagler Memorial Bridge, Pendlebury intended to have 150 men within a five-mile radius, awaiting instructions, with two helicopters in the air, guaranteeing aerial observation. The cutters based at Jupiter were to be activated the moment the men left Orlando, giving them sufficient time to move around and position themselves within sight and radio contact of the Breakers and the mansion.

  He had reviewed the arrangements several times, asking Warburger and Bowler for constructive criticism and had decided, even before getting their unqualified approval, that he had evolved a perfect scheme.

  A believer that attention to detail was the keynote to success, he was yet again examining every section of the plan when Heppert, who ironically heard the news on the same local radio station that alerted Giuseppe Terrilli just a mile away, knocked anxiously at Pendlebury’s door. Immediately he was admitted, he blurted out that the English insurers were withdrawing cover because they were unsure of the security arrangements.

  ‘Shit!’ said Pendlebury, with a vehemence that startled the Pinkerton’s man.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Heppert, misunderstanding the other man’s outburst. ‘I think it’s most uncalled for, too.’

  Concerned that he would be affected by any apportionment of blame, Heppert said, ‘I only meant the figures I gave to be rough estimates. I never supposed they would be taken literally.’

  The bastard,’ said Pendlebury, driving his fist against his thigh in frustration. ‘The rotten, awkward bastard. It’s the first time I haven’t anticipated him.’

  Heppert frowned both at the remark and the extent of Pendlebury’s annoyance.

  ‘I presume you’ll call head office,’ said Heppert, unwilling to take the responsibility. ‘We’ll have to get guidance.’

  ‘Yes… yes, of course,’ said Pendlebury, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him.

  ‘The exhibition organisers have asked for a conference,’ reported Heppert. ‘They’ve asked the Englishman to attend as well.’

  ‘Give me an hour,’ demanded Pendlebury, looking at his watch. ‘Say two o’clock.’

  He was reaching for the telephone when it rang anyway and Warburger came immediately on the line.

  ‘What the hell’s happening?’ demanded the Director.

  Pendlebury cupped
his hand over the receiver, looking at Heppert. ‘Two o’clock,’ he repeated, dismissing the man.

  Pendlebury remained silent until Heppert had closed the door, then said into the mouthpiece, ‘IIe did something I hadn’t expected. Staged some damn-fool test last night, then claimed security was lax. I presume he complained to London.’

  ‘I’ve checked,’ confirmed Warburger. ‘The announcement came from there. Can they remove cover just like that?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Pendlebury. ‘That’s not what is immediately concerning me. The organising committee are demanding a conference, so they’re obviously frightened. God knows what Terrilli’s reaction will be.’

  ‘He might abandon it, you mean?’

  ‘He could,’ said Pendlebury, as a fresh wave of exasperation engulfed him. ‘Will Cosgrove be able to hold out against any premature closure?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Warburger. ‘He’s already called me direct. He wants a private briefing from you personally.’

  ‘What shall I tell him?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Pendlebury paused, surprised at the man’s reply. ‘Even the idea of getting Terrilli indicted for the Englishman’s death?’

  ‘He wants involvement. Let him have it.’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘It’s an order,’ snapped Warburger. ‘And give the rest of the organising committee any sort of assurance they need. Tell them we’ll put in more guards – anything. I’ll fix it with Pinkerton’s here.’

  Pendlebury replaced the telephone and sat back, trying to calm himself and to think the complication through. That’s all it was, he tried to reassure himself; merely a complication. They were still more than in control of the situation, whatever Terrilli instructed his people to do. As he poured himself the first drink of the day, Pendlebury realised that his hand was shaking, rattling the bottle top against the glass edge. It was the effect of this morning’s news rather than the alcohol of the previous night, he knew. The telephone rang again fifteen minutes later, while he was rinsing his mouth of any trace of alcohol before his meeting with the exhibition organisers. He recognised the voice of the communications chief.

  ‘Terrilli’s made a call,’ reported the man. ‘About ten minutes ago. To Chambine at the hotel.’

  ‘What did he say?’ demanded Pendlebury urgently.

  ‘It was to arrange a meeting.’

  ‘Do we have it covered?’

  The man paused, having anticipated the question. ‘It’s at the beach,’ he said unhappily. ‘There’s no way we could monitor it.’

  ‘Damn!’ said Pendlebury, the word hissing through his clenched teeth. ‘The son-of-a-bitch has fucked everything up.’

  ‘Terrilli?’ asked the communications man curiously.

  ‘No,’ said Pendlebury, irritated. ‘Forget it. Now listen. Get on to the Contemporary Resort. Tell those listening there I want to know every word that’s said in every room in which we’ve installed devices. We might stand a chance of picking up whatever they talked about there: Chambine is almost certain to make contact. Now get off the line; I’ve other calls to make.’

  Pendlebury summoned Roger Gilbert to his room, outlining within minutes what Charlie had done.

  ‘Is it serious?’ demanded the man.

  ‘It is if Terrilli cancels everything. And that’s what he might be meeting Chambine to discuss.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Six of you on the beach in five minutes,’ said Pendlebury. ‘Stripped and apparently enjoying yourselves. You obviously won’t be able to get near enough to hear what’s going on, particularly if Chambine goes to Terrilli’s private beach. But I’m betting that Terrilli will come to the hotel area, where there are more people and therefore protection. As soon as it’s over, I want you all back here, giving me as full an account as it’s possible to assemble. Understood?’

  ‘What about the Englishman?’

  ‘We’ve enough men to cover him,’ said Pendlebury. ‘He’ll be at a meeting with me most of the time.’

  ‘It’ll mean using yesterday’s people,’ warned Gilbert.

  ‘Then be careful,’ said Pendlebury. After Gilbert had left the room, Pendlebury remained half crouched in a sitting-room chair, reviewing what he had done. He had become complacent, he realised, critically. Everything had conformed so easily to his expectations that he had overlooked the unexpected and now he was having to move too fast. And speed unsettled Pendlebury. He liked to consider problems in a leisurely fashion, imagining a move and then his opponent’s counter to it, like playing chess. He looked towards the vodka bottle, decided against it and went down to the exhibition room.

  Cosgrove was just inside the door of the side chamber. Heppert and the chief of the uniformed guard stood slightly apart and the Englishman was alone, near the linking door into the main hall. Charlie Muffin smiled at Pendlebury’s approach, guessing from the look on the man’s face that the threat of withdrawal had had the disruptive effect he had hoped for.

  ‘This is monstrous,’ said Cosgrove in his politician’s voice.

  Pendlebury ignored the organising chairman, halting just in front of Charlie.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘You keep asking me that,’ complained Charlie. ‘I thought I’d made that clear last night. I’m trying to protect the exhibition. That’s what I came here for.’

  ‘You’ve put the fear of God up everyone.’

  ‘The time it took people to react to an alarm bell last night put the fear of God up me,’ said Charlie. ‘It should have had the same effect on you.’

  ‘I said this is monstrous,’ repeated Cosgrove, forcing his way into the conversation. ‘Do we have proper cover here or don’t we?’

  ‘At the moment you don’t,’ said Charlie. It pleased him to deflate the pompous man, particularly as he knew from Clarissa of Cosgrove’s earlier annoyance.

  ‘My firm have asked me to say how sorry they are for any inconvenience,’ said Pendlebury.

  ‘There’s already been a committee meeting,’ reported Cosgrove. ‘They don’t see how they could possibly continue without the proper insurance protection. I argued against cancellation, but the feeling was that the risk is incalculable.’

  ‘We are willing to draft here immediately as many extra people as you consider necessary,’ Pendlebury assured him.

  The white-haired man looked at Charlie. ‘What is necessary for security doesn’t really seem to be my prerogative,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s mine. You were not here for the test I made last night, but had you been I’m sure you would have been appalled. It took eight minutes to open the exhibition doors, even to discover if anything had been touched. And a full twenty minutes for the local police to arrive.’

  ‘I was here within minutes,’ Pendlebury interposed defensively.

  ‘ Outside,’ qualified Charlie, ‘by yourself for a further five, and with no idea of what might have been going on behind those locked doors.’

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ suggested Cosgrove, indicating a semi-circle of chairs that had been arranged.

  Charlie had expected Pendlebury to be irritated, but not as annoyed as he obviously was.

  ‘How many extra men would you consider necessary for your firm to continue the insurance protection?’ Cosgrove asked Charlie, once they had settled at the table.

  ‘It’s not a question of numbers,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s a matter of efficiency.’

  ‘We could increase the number of patrols perhaps to one every fifteen minutes,’ offered Pendlebury.

  Charlie sat gazing at the man, aware of his desperation and curious at it.

  ‘Well?’ demanded the chairman of Charlie.

  ‘We would also like an improvement on the night-time checks,’ said Charlie. ‘At the moment the guards merely look through the windows. I want the doors opened and the cases examined.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Pendlebury tightly.


  ‘A number of display case keys were available in New York,’ Charlie reminded him. ‘I want them fully accounted for.’

  ‘They will be,’ conceded Pendlebury.

  Cosgrove shifted hopefully. ‘So we’re in agreement?’ he said, smiling.

  ‘No,’ replied Charlie. ‘The announcement about cover was made from London. Obviously I must consult them first to see if all their doubts are resolved.’

  ‘Where does that leave us?’ demanded the man, allowing his annoyance to show for the first time.

  ‘With limited cover and the understanding that we would dispute our liability were anything to happen to the exhibition until we have formally issued an addendum to the policy, guaranteeing the points agreed here.’

  ‘It would take days for a document to arrive here,’ protested Cosgrove. ‘I think I should warn you that we are taking legal advice about this. If our lawyers advise it, we will consider issuing a writ against your company, demanding the continued protection.’

  ‘I expected you to take the proper advice,’ said Charlie, unconcerned. ‘As far as the document is concerned, it was my intention to have it telexed from London, here to the hotel.’

  Cosgrove smiled briefly. That would be acceptable, certainly,’ he said.

  ‘How long will it take to get a reaction from London?’ asked Pendlebury.

  Charlie looked at his watch. ‘It’s seven-thirty at night there now,’ he said. ‘I can speak to my principal at home, but I doubt very much that we could manage it today… I don’t even know about tomorrow. There are members of a syndicate to consult.’

  ‘But this is preposterous!’ exclaimed Cosgrove. ‘We couldn’t continue, faced with this uncertainty.’

  ‘What would you do?’ demanded Pendlebury.

  Cosgrove shrugged. ‘At the meeting this morning there was talk of curtailing the exhibition.’

  Charlie had been watching Pendlebury as the other American spoke, so he saw the open concern on the F.B.I. man’s face.

  ‘We could have extra staff here by tomorrow,’ said Pendlebury.