‘Yes,’ said Pendlebury. ‘It’s fine.’
‘New York seemed to go well.’
‘Raised $5,000 for the kids’ charity,’ confirmed Pendlebury, as the drinks arrived. ‘They’re expecting to treble that here.’
‘You got any kids?’ said Charlie, seeing the natural opening.
‘Two,’ said Pendlebury. ‘Both at high school. You?’
‘No,’ said Charlie. Edith had always been saddened by her infertility. Considering what had happened, it was fortunate that all the gynaecological treatment had failed.
‘Still time,’ said Pendlebury.
‘My wife’s dead,’ said Charlie. ‘An accident, about four years ago.’
He reached into his jacket pocket for the photograph he had selected. He offered it across the table and the American took it.
‘Taken about five years ago,’ said Charlie. ‘We were on holiday in Switzerland.’
The strain hadn’t been showing too much on Edith’s face then. They had only been running and hiding for about two years, and he hadn’t made the stupid mistake which had got him recognised by the British service, so the hunt hadn’t started.
‘Good-looking woman,’ said Pendlebury politely.
‘You live in New York?’ enquired Charlie. He was looking out over the Atlantic, a man politely keeping a casual conversation flowing.
‘Long Island,’ said Pendlebury, searching around for the waitress. ‘Bastard commuting every day, but it’s better than bringing up a family in Manhattan.’
Charlie nodded, feeling again the sensation he had known seeing the word TERRILLI written on the hangar roof. If Pendlebury were attached to the New York office, why didn’t Heppert know him? Producing the photograph had had a relaxing effect upon the other man, decided Charlie.
Pendlebury ordered more drinks, turning back to the table.
‘Used to take me three hours, getting in and out of London,’ agreed Charlie.
‘About the same for me,’ said Pendlebury. ‘Sometimes I think I should get a small apartment in town and just commute at weekends.’
‘Get about much?’ asked Charlie.
‘Not a lot,’ said Pendlebury. ‘We’ve offices in most of the big towns. This sort of thing is unusual.’
‘Now I’m by myself, I welcome the chance to travel,’ said Charlie.
They both pulled back for the waitress to replace the glasses, and when she moved Charlie saw that Pendlebury was sorting through a billfold, selecting some photographs. Up in the suite he had wondered about the psychology of showing the other man a family picture, but he had never expected Pendlebury to respond so readily.
‘Here’s the kids,’ said the American, offering a slightly out-of-focus Polaroid of two teenagers grimacing selfconsciously into the camera, both trying to hide their teeth braces.
‘And Betty,’ said Pendlebury.
The American’s wife was a woman who would become fat within a year or two but at the moment was just keeping her figure with the aid of an all-in-one girdle and desperate diets every three months. Charlie smiled down at the portrait of the blonde, shiny-faced woman, saw his bonus and recorded it, handing the picture back before Pendlebury could become aware of any special attention and realise his error.
‘Nice family,’ said Charlie politely. He made a show of swivelling in his seat, seeking something.
‘What do you want?’
‘Washroom.’
‘By the entrance,’ said the other man.
Charlie excused himself, hurrying to the toilet. He went straight into a cubicle in case Pendlebury followed, snatching a pen and paper from his pocket. The picture of Pendlebury’s wife had shown her outside a typically American single-storeyed home with the garage forming one side. She had appeared to be making her way into the garage because the doors were open, and the camera had recorded perfectly the car registration. Charlie wrote it down, looking up reflectively. As well as the number, the registration plate had listed the State. How was it, wondered Charlie, that Pendlebury lived in New York State and drove a Chrysler Monte Carlo with a Texas registration?
He returned to the table, to see that Pendlebury had ordered again. The American was putting the pictures back into his wallet.
‘Your wife’s a pretty woman,’ said Charlie.
‘Worries about her weight,’ confessed Pendlebury. ‘She’s joined Weight Watchers.’
‘Changed since that picture, then?’
‘Not much,’ said the American. ‘She’s only been going to meetings for about two months. Crazy about candy, that’s the trouble.’
‘You eating?’ asked Charlie.
Pendlebury nodded with the eagerness of a man who had already chosen a meal for which he wasn’t paying. ‘But later,’ he said. ‘I’ve arranged to see Heppert and the rest of the security team at seven for a final run-through. Senator Cosgrove is going to be there. Want to come?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Better I don’t see it, otherwise I might come to rely on it.’
‘Probably a good idea,’ agreed Pendlebury.
After Pendlebury had left the room, Charlie decided against food, but for reasons different from Pendlebury. His telephone call to Houston took longer than he had anticipated. To the clerk in the State vehicle licensing department he explained that he had been involved in a traffic accident with a Chrysler Monte Carlo, knew the owner’s name was Pendlebury but had mislaid the address necessary for the insurance claim to be settled. It took a further ten minutes to locate the details from the registration number, and once he had obtained the address, Charlie went back to directory information and established that Pendlebury was currently listed in the Houston telephone book.
It was quite dark by the time he had finished, but Charlie didn’t bother with anything more than one side-table lamp. Pendlebury’s lie about where he lived was the first tangible thing Charlie had from all the supposition and guesswork. But it was enough to satisfy him that his instinct hadn’t failed. Not completely, anyway.
‘What happened?’ said Warburger.
‘We’d established the routine that if anybody called Pinkerton’s in Washington, where Jack was supposed to be going, they patched the call through to me. The Englishman came on about two this afternoon,’ said Bowler.
‘What for?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. I alerted Jack, who came back later to say the guy wanted to check about something concerning the opening of the damned display cases.’
‘What do you think?’
‘An unnecessary risk, like I’ve said all along. I think we should dispose of him rather than endanger everything.’
‘Might draw attention to the exhibition, which is just what we don’t want to do,’ warned the Director. ‘Get any sort of activity around there and Terrilli won’t come within a mile.’
‘It’s not an easy decision now it’s gone this far,’ admitted Bowler. ‘I don’t think we should have listened to Jack, in the first place. We could have settled this in New York.’
‘Warn him,’ said Warburger. ‘Tell Pendlebury we’re unhappy with it.’
‘One of the troubles with Jack,’ said the deputy, ‘is that he’s a cocky little bastard… thinks he can handle everything.’
10
Giuseppe Terrilli chose a downtown Miami Howard Johnson hotel for the meeting with Chambine, confident of the anonymity. He arrived early, but found Chambine waiting for him. Still club soda, the millionaire noted.
Chambine made to rise, but Terrilli gestured him down, not wanting any indication of deference that might be remembered by a curious waiter. They delayed until one came and completed the order before talking. Terrilli realised the younger man had selected a table apart from others in the bar so that they could not be overheard.
‘Well?’ demanded Terrilli.
‘Fairly standard security,’ reported Chambine. ‘Electronic surveillance and the cases are wired, I suspect. A rotating staff of twenty uniformed people and some plainclothes. I don’t think more than ten. Pinkerton chief is a man called Pendlebury. There is also an Englishman representing the insurers.’