"Good chaps," he said. "Very good chaps. But they have the American weakness—and you used it."
"What do you mean, sir?" Benson asked.
"They tend to think that patriotism compensates for skill," said Loomis, "so they used the Loman girl. Once Craig knew who she was, she had no chance."
"How did you know Force Three was involved?"
"Those ads in the papers. 'Marcus is worried.' They must have been desperate to take a chance like that."
Craig said, "It's not that bad. They knew I'd see the papers—and it's me they want to talk to."
For a moment, Loomis looked up from his plate; his angry eyes burned into Craig's.
"That's right," said Craig.
"What about the Russians?" Joanna Benson asked. "Are you open to offers from them, too?"
"I'm open to offers from Martians—if they've got the money and guarantees," said Craig.
Loomis went on eating.
"There's something interests me," Craig said. "I wonder if I might ask about it."
"We'll see." Loomis's words were a growl.
Craig turned to Royce and smiled politely.
"What happened after I shot you?" he asked. There was a silence, then Joanna Benson giggled.
"What a bastard you are," said Loomis. "All right, Benson. You tell him."
She pushed away her plate and sat back. Royce continued to eat, his eyes looking downwards. It was impossible to look at Craig; to see the mockery in his eyes. At least, Loomis hadn't made him answer. He was grateful for that.
"You were really rather kind to us," Joanna Benson said. "I can't think why. Blowing up the Jag was a bit strong, though, wasn't it? Such a lovely car."
"Sorry about that," Craig said. "But I had to set you on foot."
"Poor Andrew was hardly even that," said the girl. "It was hands and knees most of the time. You got him in the leg, you know. Nothing serious, but he bled quite a bit. I had to use tourniquets and things." Royce went on eating. His tournedos Rossini absorbed him utterly. The girl went on: "It was all a bit of a problem. I couldn't carry Andrew and he needed a doctor. I walked back up the road and found a farm with a telephone and called the police. They produced an old boy who spoke a bit of German and I said we'd been attacked by bandits. You've never seen such excitement. Then I scurried back to Andrew and told him what to say, and the gendarmes arrived with an ambulance and took him off to hospital. After that it was all questions and statements and a big hunt for that mad shepherd. They patched Andrew up quite well, I think, and I said we had friends in Cyprus and we'd recuperate there, so they found us a boat and told us they'd let us know as soon as they'd found the mad shepherd. They thought he was running amok or something. His dog was dead, you see. They think he killed it."
"No. I did that," said Craig. He looked at Loomis. "Why Cyprus?"
"Benson's a sensible young person," said Loomis. It was as much praise as he ever offered a woman. "She was in a spot of bother and she handled it well, then she reported back to me. When she phoned I had a look in your file. Sending them here was my idea."
"What made you do it?" asked Craig.
"Where else in this part of the world have you got friends? But Angelos Kouprassi's your friend. He has to be. When you were a boy wonder in the SBS you saved his life."
Loomis's passion had always been for detail, mountains of it. But he had an unerring ability to pick out the one fact that was significant, and use it.
"So I sent the two of them here," he said, "and damn if you're not here too. How's Angelos?"
"Well," said Craig.
"Up in that little place of his in the mountains?" asked Loomis. He chuckled. "Nice people these Greek Cypriots, but the biggest bloody chatterboxes I ever came across. Still, it's useful. Benson here's a good listener. She's sensible, Craig. Wouldn't you say?"
"She is."
"Then how the hell did she come to let you get away once she'd tied you up?"
"I'm afraid that's my secret," Craig said.
Joanna Benson gave no sign of relief.
"But I did it the way Pascoe showed me," she said. "It's
impossible to- No, that's ridiculous, isn't it? You're
here, after all."
"You'll have to show Pascoe that one," said Loomis.
Craig shook his head. "That's over," he said.
Loomis turned to the other two. "Go and take your coffee on the roof garden," he said.
Royce left, still not looking at Craig, and limping heavily. The girl made no move to help him.
"He'd kill you for nothing," said Loomis. "You've beaten him twice. He hates you for it."
"He hates too much. And he enjoys hurting people too much."
"Yes. So I gather. And Benson?"
"She watched. I don't think she enjoyed it,"
"Tell me," said Loomis. "How d'you come to beat an upstanding young feller like Royce?"
"You made me angry. It was the best thing you could have done, Loomis. It gave me my skill back."
"How on earth did I make you angry?"
"You used me for bait. All that stuff about how I had one more chance to prove myself. I had no chance at all. From the minute I got to New York I was the decoy, wasn't I? Money but no gun, no proper contacts—just a twit from the FO—and Royce and Benson ahead of me all the time. When I was picked up in New York I didn't have a chance."
The fat man sat, impassive.
"Tell me about that," he said.
"What do you care?" asked Craig. "I got away and came back to London and you were too busy to see me. You weren't too busy to see Royce and Benson."
"Ah," said Loomis.
He struggled and wrestled with his own body to get a hand to an inside pocket. It came out holding a cigar. Loomis looked at it, sighed, and handed it to Craig, then wrestled himself again for another.
"Go on, son," he said.
"You saw them that day. You didn't see me. And I knew why. Craig was out. Finished. If the KGB didn't get me, you would. So I got out of the country-"
"Your friend Candlish is a very resourceful feller."
"—went back to the States and got hold of Miriam Loman."
"Royce and Benson should have got on to her," said Loomis. "Youth has its drawbacks."
"They're not mine. The Loman girl took me right to Kaplan and I've got him."
"In your friend's house in the mountains. Suppose we take him from you?"
"You can't," said Craig.
Loomis clipped his cigar, lit it as if he were cauterizing a wound.
"We're chums with the Cypriots now," he said. "We could tell them some yarn. They'd let us use force. There's a unit of the RAF Regiment not far from here."
"Kaplan's no good to you dead. Or have you started subcontracting to the KGB?"
"I see," said Loomis. "You'd go that far, would you? But suppose I'd sent some of the boys along now—to pick him up while you and I were chatting?"
"He'd still be dead," said Craig.
"Your friend Angelos? No. I don't think so. And not the Loman person. She's hardly appropriate for the role. Omar the terrible Turk, eh, Craig?"
"Never mind," said Craig. "Just believe what I told you. You only get Kaplan alive if you pay for him."
"A hundred thousand," said Loomis.
"And a written guarantee."
"Even I can't give you that without authority."
"Then get it. I have other offers, you know."
For the first time since Craig had known him, Loomis became angry in silence. No purple face, no outraged bull frog swellings of the chest, no pounded tables.
He said softly, "I think you'd be very unwise."
"The other offers have guarantees, too," said Craig.
"You'd still be unwise."
Craig got up then and looked down at Loomis. The fat man was as still as a statue, and just about as hard.
"You know what we businessmen say," said Craig. "Buy now and avoid disappointment. Let me know when you've got your guarantee."