‘Yes,’ confirmed the superintendent. ‘All five hundred pounds of it’
Again the policeman waited, letting the sarcasm settle. So it was the smallness of the amount they couldn’t accept. Another mistake, like the artificial attitude.
‘So I’m lucky all the way around,’ said Charlie.
‘Sir?’ questioned the superintendent.
That it was only?500,’ expanded Charlie. ‘It’s enough, but not as much as the other people seem to have lost.’
‘No, sir,’ accepted Law. There was still doubt, Charlie gauged.
‘You say you travel a great deal, sir?’ pressed Law.
‘I have a home in Switzerland as well as here,’ said Charlie. ‘I move between the two very frequently.’
‘That must be nice,’ said Law.
He managed always to convey the impression that he expected more from any sentence, decided Charlie. It was an interesting technique.
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Very nice.’
‘How long do you plan to be here this time, sir?’ asked the superintendent.
Charlie delayed answering, guessing some point to the question.
‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘A week … maybe two … depends on business.’
‘What business?’
The query was abrupt again, cutting across Charlie’s generalisation.
Charlie grew cautious again, recognising the danger.
‘Investment,’ he said. ‘Finance … that sort of thing.’
Both detectives stared, waiting for more.
When he didn’t continue, Law prompted: ‘You’re a financier?’
‘My passport describes me as a clerk. But I suppose financier is a better description,’ smiled Charlie.
‘Any particular firm?’
‘Predominantly Willoughby, Price and Rowledge,’ responded Charlie easily. ‘I deal with Mr Willoughby.’
‘A financier,’ picked up the superintendent. ‘Yet you only kept?500 in a safe deposit box?’
‘Exactly,’ retorted Charlie. ‘Money that isn’t working for you is dead … useless. No one who’s interested in making money leaves it lying around in safe deposit boxes.’
‘And you are interested in making money, sir?’ asked Law, unperturbed.
‘Isn’t everyone?’ asked Charlie.
Law didn’t reply immediately, appearing to consider the question.
‘And where will you be going, after one or two weeks?’ he demanded, changing direction.
‘Back to Switzerland,’ said Charlie.
‘You could let us have an address, of course?’
‘Of course,’ agreed Charlie. ‘But why should you need it?’
The superintendent smiled apologetically.
‘Never know, sir. Things come up that you can’t anticipate. Always handy to be able to contact people.’
Charlie nodded.
‘And I’d like a formal statement,’ continued Law. ‘Could you come to the station tomorrow?’
Charlie hesitated, a busy man remembering other appointments.
‘I suppose so,’ he said, at last.
‘We’d appreciate that,’ said Law.
The approach had changed, realised Charlie.
‘Naturally I’ll come.’
‘You know,’ said Law, extending the apparent friendliness. ‘Of all the people we’ve interviewed, you’re probably the most fortunate.’
‘How’s that, superintendent?’
‘Apart from the money … and as you say, that’s not a great deal … you’ve lost practically nothing.’
‘Except my faith in the safety of British banks,’ suggested Charlie, trying to lighten the mood.
Law didn’t smile.
‘In every other box there was more money … jewellery … stuff like that Really you are very lucky,’ insisted the superintendent.
‘Very lucky,’ concurred Charlie.
Law looked hopeful, as if expecting Charlie to say more.
‘Is there anything else I can do to help?’ asked Charlie. He shouldn’t seem too eager to end the meeting, he knew. But equally it would be a mistake to abandon the attitude with which he’d begun the encounter, wrong though he now knew it to be. It was the sort of change Law would recognise.
The superintendent gazed directly at him. Then he shook his head.
‘Not at the moment, sir. Just make the statement, tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Of course not.’
‘And let us know if you’re thinking of going anywhere,’ the detective continued.
Charlie allowed just the right amount of time to elapse.
‘All right,’ he said.
‘And perhaps tomorrow you could let my sergeant have the Swiss address?’
Charlie nodded.
‘Tomorrow, then,’ said Law, standing. Immediately Hardiman followed.
‘Good night, sir,’ said Law.
‘Good night, superintendent. Don’t hesitate to contact me if I can do anything further to help.’
‘Oh we won’t, sir,’ Law assured him. ‘We won’t hesitate for a moment.’
Charlie stood at the doorway until he saw them enter their car and then returned to the lounge. He’d just got away with it, he judged, pouring himself a second whisky.
But only just. Not good enough, in fact. He’d lost his edge, in two years. So he’d better find it again, bloody quickly.
‘Otherwise, Charlie, your bollocks are going to be on the hook,’ he warned himself.
He looked curiously at the whisky, putting the glass down untouched.
‘And that’s how they got there last time,’ he added into the empty room.
For several minutes the policemen sat silently in the car. The lights of Palace Pier were appearing on the left before Law spoke.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Hardiman.
‘Cocky,’ replied the sergeant, immediately. He’d been waiting for the question.
‘But involved?’
Hardiman shook his head.
‘Would you rent a box to discover the layout practically next door to your own house? And having pulled off a million-pound robbery, risk coming back and being questioned, even if you had been that stupid in the first place?’
Law moved his head, in agreement.
‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘They’re big points in his favour.’
The car entered the town, pulling away from the sea-front.
‘There was something though, wasn’t there?’ said Hardiman.
Law smiled at the other man’s reservations.
‘Couldn’t lose the feeling that he was used to interrogation … didn’t have the uncertainty that most people have … the natural nervousness that causes them to make silly mistakes,’ he confirmed.
‘Yet he was nervous,’ expanded Hardiman.
‘Know something else that struck me as odd?’ continued Law.
‘What?’
‘For a financier, he was a scruffy bastard.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the sergeant. ‘Still, don’t they say that only the truly rich can afford to dress like tramps?’
‘And can you really believe,’ went on the superintendent, ignoring the sergeant’s remark, ‘that a financier with a house like he’s got here and who openly admits to another home in Switzerland would only have five hundred quid in a safe deposit box?’
‘No,’ agreed Hardiman, as the car entered the police station compound. ‘But he’s not the first one we’ve encountered on this job who’s lied about the amount. That’s just tax avoidance, surely?’
‘Probably,’ said Law. He started to get out of the car, then turned back into the vehicle, towards the other man.
‘Let’s just keep an eye on him,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to waste any men on full-time observation, but I want some sort of check kept.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Hardiman. ‘Who knows what we might come up with?’
‘Who knows?’ echoed the superintendent.
Despite a friendship that stretched back more than two decades, there had been few meetings with Berenkov since his repatriation to Moscow from British imprisonment, General Valery Kalenin accepted. Too few, in fact. He enjoyed the company of the burly, flamboyant Georgian. The K.G.B. chief smiled across the table, offering the bottle.
Berenkov took the wine, topping up his glass.
‘French is still best,’ he said, professionally. ‘More body.’