"No problem there." Chavasse gestured towards Carter. "He's about my size. Get him stripped. I'll manage just fine with his trousers and shirt and that pullover he's wearing under his uniform jacket."
They didn't argue and a few moments later, Youngblood tossed the clothes across, Chavasse withdrew to the end of the ward, placed the gun within easy reach and dressed quickly.
"It isn't that I don't trust you, Harry," he explained. "It's just that I know you'd cut my throat if you thought there was even a remote possibility that I might spoil your chances."
Youngblood chuckled and shook his head in frank admiration. "A pity we didn't meet up years ago, Drum. We could have taken them all on."
He sat in the wheelchair, arranging a blanket over his legs and Mackenzie took off his white coat and threw it at Chavasse. "You wear that and push the wheelchair-I'll swing the stethoscope in one hand."
"Aren't we gong to tie these two up?"
"Not worth it. The real Mackenzie could turn up at any time. Now let's get moving. We've got a tight schedule."
It was quiet in the corridor and when Mackenzie pressed the button, the lift rose to meet them at once. When the doors opened in the basement he walked out without hesitation and Chavasse followed him pushing the wheelchair.
The basement was deserted except for two ambulances parked by a loading bay and they kept on going through the staff door at the end and out into the night.
Rain drifted in a fine spray through the light over the porch. An old Commer van was parked at the bottom of the steps and Mackenzie peered out cautiously. Two nurses, uniform caps swinging from their shoulders against the rain, were walking down towards the main gates, but otherwise the drive was deserted.
Mackenzie went down the steps, opened the rear door of the van, turned and nodded. Chavasse and Youngblood went after him. The door slammed, a key turned and they were driven rapidly away.
A few moments after starting, an interior light came on and Youngblood discovered a pile of clothing in one corner. There was everything he needed from shoes to a raincoat, all obviously carefully chosen for size.
The van was not being driven at any particular speed and he had little difficulty in changing. He had barely finished when they braked to a halt. The engine was switched off, Mackenzie jumped out, came round to the rear and unlocked the door.
"Let's be having you."
They were in a large town-centre car park and buildings lifted into the night on either side. "Where are we?" Youngblood demanded. "Manningham?"
"A change of transport, that's all." Mackenzie handed Chavasse a Burberry trenchcoat and a silk scarf. "Much as I regret having to part with them you'd better have these. Do you think I could possibly have my gun back now?"
"A fair exchange." Chavasse handed him the automatic and pulled on the raincoat.
Mackenzie withdrew the magazine then snapped it back into place with an ominous click. "I'm awfully tempted, old man. I really am."
"I'm sure you are," Chavasse said. "On the other hand it would make a hell of a dent in your plans to have me lying around in a ditch somewhere. Now that really would have every copper in the country straining at the leash."
"Somehow that's what I thought you might say," Mackenzie said. "Another time perhaps. Shall we go?"
The car waited in the shadows of the far side of the park, a Vauxhall brake, and Mackenzie drove away at once, taking a road which had them out of Manningham and into the countryside within ten minutes.
He switched on the radio and as music drifted out, leaned back in the driving seat, his eyes on the road. "And now we can get down to business, Mr. Youngblood."
"I was wondering when you'd get round to it."
Mackenzie laughed gently. "Do you know something? That's exactly what Ben Hoffa said."
Youngblood turned to look at him. "You handled Ben's break?"
"But of course. The Baron always gives me the big ones."
"Where is he now?"
"Hoffa?" Mackenzie chuckled. "A long, long way away, Mr. Youngblood. I can assure you of that and they won't get him back. That's all part of our guaranteed service. But let's dispose of the sordid cash angle first. You know our terms-they were fully explained. We've kept our part of the bargain-we've got you out. You tell us where the cash is and that completes Phase One of the operation."
"There is no cash," Youngblood said calmly.
The car swerved and Mackenzie fought to regain control. "You're joking of course."
"Not at all. I did a deal with some Dutch money changers in Amsterdam and converted my share into diamonds-two hundred and fifty thousand pounds' worth."
"Not bad-not bad at all. Prices have risen a lot in five years. Where are they?"
"A safe deposit in Jermyn Street in London in the name of Alfred Bonner. One of those places where the manager keeps one key and the customer the other. You need both to open the box."
"And who has yours?"
"My sister. She lives at 15 Wheeler Court, Bethnal Green. She'll hand it over with no trouble. I put her in the picture when she last visited me three months ago."
"That all sounds perfectly straightforward," Mackenzie said. "I'll pass the information along to the right quarter."
"And what happens to us?"
"You'll be well taken care of. If everything goes according to plan, they'll start Phase Two when the Baron has his hands on those diamonds. I should point out, by the way, that Mr. Drummond here is very definitely going to come extra."
"And when do we get to see the Baron?" Chavasse said.
"When he's ready and not before. Under our system you're passed on from hand to hand as it were. We find that much safer for all concerned."
"With the Baron waiting at the end with my money, I hope?" Youngblood said.
"Plus a new identity, a new life, a passport to anywhere in the world. I should have thought that was quite a bargain, old man."
Ahead was an intersection and he turned left into a quiet secondary road and braked to a halt about a mile further on. It had stopped raining and a full moon had appeared from behind a bank of heavy cloud so that they could see quite clearly a five barred gate and a ruined farmhouse beyond.
"All out!" Mackenzie said. "This is where I leave you."
Youngblood and Chavasse stepped on to the grass verge and looked around them. "What is this?" Youngblood demanded.
Mackenzie slipped off his watch and gave it to him through the window. "It's now nine thirty-five. In approximately ten minutes someone will pick you up."
"What's he driving?" Chavasse asked.
"I've no idea. His opening words will be: Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to take you? You must answer: Babylon. He'll tell you Babylon's too far for him, but will offer to take you part of the way. Have you got that?"
Youngblood stared at him in amazement. "Are you crazy?"
"If I am, then you've made a damned bad bargain, old man," Mackenzie said and he released the handbrake and drove rapidly away.
They stood there, listening to the engine fade into the distance and when it had finally died Youngblood turned to Chavasse, face white in the moonlight.
"What do you think? Are they just stringing us along?"
"I shouldn't have thought so. They've too much to lose."
"I suppose you're right. Better have a cigarette and hope for the best."
It was Chavasse who heard the sound of the approaching vehicle first and he moved out into the road and looked down to the shadows at the bottom of the hill where headlights flared through the darkness.
"Could this be it?" Youngblood demanded.