“Would a counter get a reading from the Bentley’s gas tank?” Shayne asked.
“No, no. The material’s enclosed in a lead sheath.”
Anne burst out, “All right, that’s the situation. Now what are we going to do about it?”
“Just a minute,” Shayne said. “Who paid the insurance premium?”
“I did. It wasn’t that much. We thought forty thousand pounds would be a reasonable figure. More might seem suspicious. The policy contains a clause obliging the assurance company to pay double for accidental death. Will being shot by Customs agents qualify as an accident? The lawyers will have to argue about that.”
“Quentin, it’s not going to happen!” Anne said.
Little repeated his one-shoulder shrug.
Shayne said, “Dessau has turned in his tip by this time. The Customs people will give your car a close inspection and find the bomb. Then what?”
“I will be a bit nervy, understandably. When they start unscrewing the cap of the petrol tank I will snatch out my gun and attempt to bolt. And they will shoot me. Dessau will be standing by, to administer the coup de grace, if need be. The punishment for the crime I will ostensibly be committing is, I suppose, death. I intend to avoid a long-drawn-out-show trial at any cost. A quick burst of gunfire — a much less banal way to die than running a hose from an exhaust pipe.”
“Quent—” Anne said helplessly.
“As I’ve been telling you, you worked your miracle too late. Granted that Mike Shayne is as resourceful as you say. What can he do?” He spread his hands. “There is no hope of emerging from this unscathed, and as soon as Shayne understands the dimensions of the problem, I know he will agree.”
“I don’t understand it yet,” Shayne said. “What else do you know about Dessau?”
“Very little. A difficult man to take seriously. More of a talker than anything, it would seem, but let me drop in an anecdote. At one point I wavered. It all struck me as much too elaborate for such a simple end. Pierre didn’t try to debate, he simply punched up my daughter Cecily. She lost a front tooth and spent some days in hospital. It was effective. I agreed to continue.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s tall, some inches taller than you. Six feet four, I’d say. Pale skin — definitely a nighttime look. Modish clothes.”
“He’s definitely not aboard?”
“He’s flying. Why?”
“Anne’s been seen with you. When people have just had sex, there are sometimes little things that give it away. She pulled me out of a poker game tonight and kicked me on the ankle. All very much in public. OK. Two guys tried to club me on my way to bed, obviously to keep me from hearing this.”
Little had listened in amazement. “There can’t be a connection. Pierre kept repeating that the really beautiful thing about his plan was that we two could do it alone, with no fellow conspirators to weaken and give it away. Only the two of us.”
Anne said urgently, “There’s only one thing to do. Take the tank out and throw it in the ocean.”
“Leaving aside the question of how we do that,” Little said, “without a forklift, without access to a machine shop, what happens then? The Customs inspector will look for a place where seventeen pounds of sheathed plutonium can be hidden. Aha, no petrol tank. ‘How do you explain this, Dr. Little?’ Inquiries will be made at Camberwell, the theft will be discovered. I have recently become a member of some notoriously Left-wing committees. Obviously I stole the plutonium to give to my country’s enemies. I see myself coming out of prison twenty years later. No.”
Shayne’s mind was running. The story was fantastic, and at the same time, in a real-life context, too plausible. Pierre Dessau had needed precisely the collaborator Little had turned out to be — an atomic physicist who could steal the raw materials for an atom bomb, who had a chessplayer’s temperament, a wife he hated, a financial problem, a pair of heckling children, a disposition toward suicide. It was far too pat. All con games fall into a few basic categories, but most of them can be modified to fit the mark’s requirements. The first thing to establish was where to place Little — was he the swindler, or the swindler’s victim?
“Is there any chance the gas tank you put in the car isn’t the one that’s in it now?”
“I delivered the car to the dock myself.”
Shayne flicked his dead cigarette into a wastebasket. “What would be your idea of a happy ending?”
“I find happy endings depressing,” Little said. “And under these circumstances, is a happy ending possible? Of course if you could persuade the captain to turn around and go back to England, so I can return the plutonium before anyone realizes it’s missing—”
“Could you do that?” Anne said quickly.
“I still have my security clearance. A way could be found. But what will Dessau be doing in the meantime? How about the Customs inspection?”
“Look,” Anne said excitedly, “let’s say Mike can take care of that. Don’t ask me how — for the sake of argument. You could report for work, complain about the office they give you and break your contract. Can you get the old job back?”
“Easily. There’s a shortage of Englishmen with my qualifications.”
“Mike, I know you’d have to be some kind of magician to work it, but can you think of any possible way—”
“Not if the story he’s told me is true. On the other hand, I think there’s a chance that not all of it is.” He studied Little. “How much cash do you have with you?”
“For a retainer, you mean? In your terms of reference, not enough, probably. I could give you a note.”
“I don’t do this kind of favor for people I don’t know unless I’m paid in advance. That insurance policy seems to be your only negotiable asset. Cut me in for a third and I’ll see what I can do.”
Little was startled. “Which would mean,” he said slowly, “that you collect only if I die.”
“On the facts you’ve given me, you’re a long shot to get through twenty-four hours. If you live, pay me five thousand dollars over the next two years.”
“Very well, I accept,” Little said after a moment.
The necessary paperwork took several more minutes. He entered Shayne’s name on the back of the policy, in the space provided for beneficiary changes, and Anne witnessed his signature. Then, on ship’s stationery, he prepared two copies of a letter to the London company, and gave one of these to Shayne. The preparations had the surprising effect of making him more cheerful.
“We have ourselves a bet. If you win, Shayne, never mind shipping my body back. I want to be burned. I want my ashes to be disposed of through the Miami municipal sewerage system.”
“You’re such ghouls!” Anne exclaimed.
“No, there’s something to be said for professionalism,” Little declared. “If Shayne can do anything about it, he will, and I intend to put the whole thing out of my mind. Will you stay with me, dear? I would like to receive what under the circumstances may be my last rites.”
“Yes,” she said uncertainly. “Mike, can I talk to you alone for a minute? I don’t mean anything elaborate, but I hope you don’t think I can put it out of my mind. I have to know what you think is possible.”
“Will you promise to come back?” Little said quietly as she stood up.
She came over and kissed him. “In one minute or less.” She followed Shayne to the corridor. To his surprise, he saw that she had started crying.