‘If you’re referring to payment, George, I can assure you ‘Payment? I’m not referring to payment.’ George sounded pained. ‘I’m referring to standard business practices. Lieutenant, is there an overhead light? Thank you.’ George produced a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket and handed them to Agnelli. ‘Inventory of goods. You have to sign the receipt but not until I have checked the conditions of all the items — you will understand that I had no time to do so this morning — and see how they survived the transport. Standard business ethics. ‘No one seemed to find it peculiar that George should use the word ‘ethics’ in connection with stolen goods. ‘But some of that hospitality wouldn’t come amiss. Beer for me?’ ‘Of course,’ Agnelli said, then added delicately: ‘Would you be requiring any help?’
‘Not really. But it is customary for a purchaser or purchaser’s agent to be present. I would suggest Mr O’Brien. Electronics experts are accustomed to small fiddly things and detonators are small fiddly things. A carelessly dropped detonator, Mr Agnelli, and there wouldn’t be a great deal left of your windmill. There wouldn’t be a great deal left of the people inside it, either.’
Agnelli nodded his satisfaction and led the way to the porch that had been added to the windmill. A tall, shock-haired and unshaven youth whose most notable facial characteristic was the negligible clearance between eyebrows and hairline, moved to bar their entrance. A machine-pistol was held loosely in his right hand.
‘One side, Willi. ‘Agnelli’s voice was sharp. ‘It’s me.’ ‘I can see that,’ Willi scowled — it was the kind of face that wasn’t built for much else — and stared truculently at van Effen. ‘Who’s he?’ ‘Hospitality,’van Effen said. ‘Our genial host, no doubt. God help us. Is this the kind of hired help you have around here?’ Willi took a threatening step forward, lifting his gun as he did so, then subsided gently to the ground, clutching his midriff as he did so: the blow he had received there had been no friendly tap. Van Effen took his gun, removed the magazine and dropped the gun on top of the wheezing Willi. Van Effen stared at Agnelli, his expression a nice mix of consternation and disbelief
‘Frankly, I’m appalled. I don’t like this one little bit. Is this — I mean, is he typical — you have retarded morons like this on your team? People who are going to hold — no, people who are holding nations to ransom having — having — words fail me. Have you never heard of the weakest link in the chain?’
‘My own sentiments exactly,’Riordan said gravely. ‘You will remember, Romero, that I expressed my reservations about this fellow. Even as a guard, the only possible function he could serve, his limitations have been cruelly exposed.’
‘I agree, Mr Riordan, I agree.’ It would have been untrue to say that Agnelli was discomfited, but his ebullience was in temporary abeyance. ‘Willi is a disappointment. He shall have to go. I Willi had now slipped over on to his side. He was conscious enough, propped on one shaky elbow and grimacing with pain. Van Effen looked over his all but prone form to the opened doorway beyond. His sister was there, Annemarie by her side, Samuelson just behind them. The expression on both girls’ faces were markedly similar — slightly wide-eyed, slightly shocked, totally uncomprehending. Van Effen let his eyes rest on them for a brief moment then looked indifferently away.
‘Have to go, Mr Agnelli? Have to go? If he goes, I go. Can’t you see that you’re stuck with him, want it or not. Stuck with him either above ground or below. Let him go and the first thing he’ll do is talk his head off to the first policeman he meets. No drastic methods, preferably, but his silence must be assured. I hope the rest of your Praetorian guard is a cut above this character.’
‘The rest of the Praetorian guard, as you call them, are more than a cut above this unfortunate.’ Samuelson, rubicund, smiling and looking even more prosperous than the previous evening, had gently pushed the girls apart and stepped out on to the stoop. He smelt of some very expensive after-shave lotion. Rubbing his chin with an immaculately manicured hand, he peered down at Willi then looked up at van Effen. ‘You do have a direct way with you, my friend. At the same time one must admit that you come to some remarkably quick conclusions in a commendably short time. I must confess that I have occasionally felt tempted to do just what you have done, but, well, explosive violence of that kind is not my forte. Ah, yes, I saw it all. Very economical, very.’ He extended a hand. ‘Samuelson.’
‘Danilov.’ Judging from both his bearing and his speech, van Effen was in no doubt that he was in the presence of the man who mattered. His speech. Samuelson had said so few words the previous evening that his country of origin had remained uncertain. De Graaf had thought him Irish-American. De Graaf, van Effen thought, had been wrong. This man was English-American. Perhaps even an Englishman who had spent just long enough in the United States to pick up a slight American over-tone. Van Effen gestured to the fallen man. ‘Sorry about this, Mr Samuelson. One does not usually treat a host’s staff in — so summary a fashion. On the other hand you must admit that it’s not the average guest who finds himself confronted with a sub-machine gun.’
‘A well-taken point, Mr Danilov.’ Like Agnelli, Samuelson seemed much given to warm and friendly smiles. ‘A breach of hospitality. It will be the last — as you yourself have personally assured. All is well, Romero? ‘Perfect, Mr Samuelson. Everything there, everything in order. Exactly as Mr Danilov guaranteed.’
‘Splendid. Mr Danilov does have a certain aura of competence about him. Come in, come in. Wretched evening. Absolutely wretched.’ That, thought van Effen, made him English for sure. ‘And good evening to you, Captain. I understood you were a lieutenant.’
‘A very very recent captain,’ Vasco said hoarsely. ‘Sorry about this throat.’
‘Dear me, dear me.’ Samuelson sounded genuinely concerned. ‘A hot toddy, and at once.’ Samuelson did not seem to find it at all amiss that a regular army captain should be in their company: but a man with so smoothly unlined a face could take many things in his stride without registering reactions of any kind. ‘Let me introduce our two charming guests. Miss Meijer, Miss van Effen.’
Van Effen bowed briefly. ‘Those are the two who figured so prominently in the headlines this morning? Their photographs didn’t do them justice.’ Agnelli said: ‘Mr Danilov and his friends were rather concerned about their well-being, Mr Samuelson.’
‘Ah, yes. Compatriots, of course. No need, no need. As you can see, both in excellent health.’
There were five other people in the room, all men. Two were earnest looking, intellectual looking youths cast in the mould of Joachim and Joop. The other three were older, bigger and a great deal tougher looking, although that didn’t mean that they were in any way more dangerous: apart from the fact that they lacked sunglasses they looked uncommonly like the Secret Service men who guard an American president. There was nothing criminal in their appearances. Samuelson didn’t see fit to introduce them: as a result, indeed, of some signal that van Effen had not seen they all quietly left the room.