He turned from side to side, swinging like a trapped bear, and I took the recorder from him as he went to the railings and took hold of them, the knuckles of his big knotted hands going white as he shook the bars.
Brink agrees with me. He is to be allowed to go ashore once more, and then Toufexis will be given instructions.
Shaking the railings, not saying a word, returning to the primitive, a wounded animal. I was worried that he might turn and vent his rage on me; he was a big man, strong, and at the moment I could hardly stay on my feet, lost more blood than I'd thought, lost too much sleep, call it accumulated mission fatigue, it had been a hard five days since I'd flown out here from London.
Let the matter rest with me…
Von Brinkerhoff and I will take full responsibility, if any question arises afterwards…
When it was finished I put the recorder away.
'You'd better get control, Proctor. They're watching us.' I looked along the lamplit perspective of the street, and saw the man by the limousine turn and reach through the window. 'Listen, this is your last trip ashore and they can get those instructions any time now and that man down there is answering his phone. We're playing it too bloody close – get in the car.'
We stood at the corner of Bayshore and 22nd street, traffic going past, long hair blowing in open cars, the night still young under the bright Miami moon. There was a club just here, with music floating out across the sidewalk.
'We'll be going home,' I said, 'through the Bahamas, take it easy round the pool for a couple of days.'
He stood shivering, head down, buried in himself. God knew how long it was going to take them to straighten him out, but that'd be their problem, in London.
Then he said an extraordinary thing.
'I apologise.'
For making life so difficult for me, I suppose. Civil of him.
That's all right. Happens in the best of families. You know Monck, don't you, in Nassau?'
'Yes.'
'We'll be looking in on him while we're there.'
For major debriefing, the definitive debriefing on Barracuda. Then I'd drop those tapes on the table. I didn't think there'd be any trouble with Proctor, but one man's testimony wouldn't be enough to blow an organisation that size. They'd need first-hand evidence, recognisable voices, and that's what we'd got.
'Good club,' I said. 'Popular.'
Didn't answer, head on his chest, perhaps didn't hear.
Cabs pulling in, dropping people off at the marquee, some of them in fancy dress, some sort of gala. Then a car stopped by the kerb and Ferris got out and came across to us, people going by, a flurry of girls, giggling, covered in streamers, pretty dresses, silks and coloured plumes, a bit tiddly, I wouldn't wonder, one of them touching my arm as she trotted past – 'Oh boy, have you had a hard day last night!' A gust of laughter.
'Hello Proctor,' Ferris said, 'long time no see,' and we got into the car.
Elleston Trevor
