‘Ullo, ‘ullo, signore. Are you there plees?’ The voice sounded impatient — harsher and more grating.
‘Yes?‘I said.
‘I ask you do you see Signor Tucek when you are in Pilsen?’
‘Yes.’
‘You are a friend of his per’aps — from the war?’
‘Yes,‘I said.‘Why?’
‘And he know you are coming to Milano?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Then per’aps all is not lost.’
‘Look,’ I said. ‘Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’
‘Very well. I tell you. I am a business friend of Signer Tucek. Things are very bad for him in Czechoslovakia. He intend to leave the country and we are going into business together with a new factory’ ere in Milano. I am expecting him ‘ere for three days now. But he do not arrive. I am very worried, Signer Farrell.’
‘What’s this got to do with me?’ I asked him.
‘I tell you. We are to start a new business together. He is bringing with him specifications of some new types of machines we are to produce. On Friday I receive a letter from him to say that he will not bring them himself. It is too dangerous. He give them to an Englishman who fly to Milano the next day. I have checked with the airport, Signer Farrell. You are the only Englishman who arrives from Czechoslovakia since I receive his letter.’
‘And you think I’ve a package for you from Tucek?’ I asked.
‘No, no. I think per’aps you have a package as you say to deliver to Tucek here. But Tucek is not ‘ere. He do not arrive. It is terrible. I do not know what is happened. But business is business, Signor Farrell, and I have special workers ready waiting to begin the building of the tools to make these new machines. If I could plees have the specifications—’
‘But I haven’t got any package for you,’ I told him.
‘No?’ The voice had risen a shade. It was hard and metallic. ‘But Signor Farrell, in his letter he say—’
‘ I don’t care what he said to you in his letter,’ I interrupted him.’ I can only repeat, I have not got a package for you. I saw him once in Pilsen that’s all. It was in his office and an official interpreter was with us all the time.’
He started to say something and then his voice vanished suddenly as though he had cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. There was a pause and then he said, ‘Are you sure you only see him once, signore?’
‘Quite certain,’ I answered.
‘He does not come to see you at your hotel?’
Was it my imagination or was there a sudden emphasis on his words? ‘No,’ I answered.
‘But he tell me—’
‘Once and for all,’ I said angrily, ‘will you please understand that I have no package either for you or Tucek.’
There was another pause and I thought perhaps he’d rung off. I was sweating and I wiped my face with my handkerchief. ‘Per’aps, Signor Farrell, we do not understand each other, no?’ The voice was softer, almost silky. ‘You see, if I have the specifications and can proceed with the organisation of the new factory, then I need several of the sort of machine tools fabricated by your company. Per’aps I require them in a hurry and pay a bonus to you for arranging the quick delivery, eh? Now you have another look through your baggage, signore. It is possible you cannot remember what is in it until I remind you, eh?’
It was a straight bribe and I wanted to tell him what I thought of him. But after all he was a potential customer, so all I said was, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Sismondi. I just haven’t got what you want. I will call on you later at your office if I may and talk about equipment for the Ferrometalli di Milano.’
‘But, Signor Farrell—’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘I cannot help you. Goodbye.’ And I put the receiver back on its rest.
For a while I stood there, staring out of the window at the colossal bulk of the Stazione Centrale. The grey stone stood out almost white against the dark underbelly of the cumulus that was piling up across the sky. Sismondi knew that Tucek had visited me at the Hotel Continental. That was the thing that stood in the forefront of my mind. I told myself I was imagining it. Sismondi couldn’t possibly know. But the thought stayed there and I felt as though the fingers of that imaginary arm stretched out across the Czech frontier were closing round me. The sunshine streaming in through the open window faded. The Piazzale Duca d’Aosta looked suddenly grey and deserted. I shivered and closed the window.
I started towards the door and then stopped. Suppose Tucek had put a package amongst my things that night. I hadn’t searched through my suitcases. It could have lain there without my noticing it. My hands were trembling as I got out my keys and unlocked the two cases. But though I searched even the pockets of my suits and felt the linings there was nothing there. I searched the clothes I was wearing and my overcoat and went through the papers in my briefcase. I found nothing and with a feeling of relief went down to the bar.
It was lunch-time and the place was half empty. I sat down at the bar and got a drink. I felt less alone with a glass in my hand and the cognac was comforting. There was a paper on the bar counter and I concentrated on that, trying to forget Sismondi and that damned telephone conversation. But even the paper contained something to remind me of Tucek. On an inside page I found a paragraph headed: CZECH TABLE TENNIS STAR TO STAY IN ITALY. The story began — When the Czech table tennis team, which has been touring Italy, left Milano yesterday, Sgna Hilda Tucek was still in her hotel. She refused to return to Czechoslovakia. She intends to remain in Italy for the present. Hilda Tucek is the daughter of…
I stared at the paragraph, remembering how Jan Tucek had said — Fortunately my daughter play table tennis well. So that was what he had meant. Father and daughter had planned to be together and now. … I pushed the paper away. Poor kid! She must be wondering what had happened.
A hand touched my arm and I spun round with a start.
It was Alec Reece. ‘Can I have a word with you?’ he said.
‘What about?‘I asked.
I didn’t want to talk to him. I’d had enough for one day. I suddenly felt very tired.
‘Come over here.’ He took me to a secluded corner of the bar. We sat down. ‘What are you having?’
‘Cognac,’ I answered.
‘Due cognac,’ he told the waiter. Then he leaned forward. ‘I’ve been checking up on Tucek,’ he said.
His face looked pale and there were lines of strain round his mouth. ‘The Anson arrived at the airport here shortly after four on Friday morning.’
‘Then he’s in Milan?’ I felt relieved. It was nothing to do with me. But I was glad he was safe.
‘No,’ Reece said. ‘He’s not in Milan. And the devil of it is I don’t know where he is — or what’s happened to him. The plane was met by two Italians. I gather that neither Tucek nor Lemlin ever got out of it. The aircraft was refuelled and took off again immediately. I’ve checked up on every airport in Italy, also in Switzerland, France and Austria. I’ve tried Greece and Jugoslavia as well. The plane and its occupants have completely disappeared.’
He was looking at me hard as though I were responsible.
‘Why come to me?’ I asked.
‘I thought you might know something,’ he said.
‘Look,’ I answered wearily. ‘I know nothing about this business.’
‘You saw Maxwell in Pilsen.’
‘Yes. And he gave me a message to deliver to you.’
‘Was that before or after your interview with the police?’
‘After.’ Then I saw what he was driving at and I could have hit him. He thought I might have got out of the clutches of the Czech security police by giving information to them. I got to my feet. ‘I see no point in continuing this discussion,’ I said. ‘I’m glad to know Jan Tucek didn’t crash. As to where he is now, I can’t help you.’