Windfall

Hardin did not jump at it. 'Are you in the same business as Gunnarsson?'

'Not exactly. We try to stop the bastards.'

Hardin held out his hand. 'I'm your man. Thanks, Mr Stafford.'

Stafford smiled. 'I'm Max, you are Ben, and the Sergeant is the Sergeant.'

Hardin had given up his hotel room so Stafford told him he could use the spare bedroom until he got fixed up. 'You can pay your rent by briefing Sergeant Curtis on this thing.'

'What's this with Kenya?'

Stafford said, 'That's where I think the action will be.' He was thinking that an awful lot of money was going to the Ol Njorowa Foundation, a hell of a lot more than the six million dollars going to the fake Hendrix. The Foundation would be awash with cash – something like seventy million American dollars – and he was sure that Gunnarsson had got the heady scent of it in his nostrils.

Chapter 8

Stafford discussed the Gunnarsson affair with Jack Ellis who was the next biggest shareholder in Stafford Security after himself. He felt he could not run up costs on the firm without informing Ellis. He outlined the situation and Ellis said thoughtfully, 'Gunnarsson. He's the Peacemore mob, isn't he?'

'That's right.'

'We've been having trouble with that crowd. Remember Electronomics ?'

'All too clearly,' said Stafford. 'Jack, our next logical expansion is into the States. We're going to come up slap hard against Gunnarsson sooner or later. I'd rather it was sooner, before we set up operations over there. I want to go after him now when he's not on his home ground."

Ellis nodded. 'That should make it easier. Who knows about all this? I mean that Gunnarsson has run in a substitute for Hendrix.'

'Just four; you, me, Hardin and the Sergeant.' 'Not Alix Hendriks?'

Stafford shook his head. 'Nor Dirk. I want to keep this right.'

'And why Kenya?'

Stafford said, 'There was once an American bank robber called Willie Sutton. Someone asked him why he robbed banks. He looked a bit disgusted, and said, 'That's where the money is." There's a hell of a lot of money going into Kenya. Gunnarsson will go where the money is.' 'What do we know about this Foundation in Kenya?' 'Not a damned thing; but that can be cured.' 'And you want to handle this personally?'

'With help." Stafford shrugged. 'I've been working damned hard in Europe, and I haven't had a holiday for three years. Let's call this paid leave of absence.'

Ellis smiled wryly. 'I have an odd feeling of deja vu as though we've had this conversation before.'

Stafford said, 'Make no mistake, Jack; this isn't a favour for Alix Hendriks. This is for the future benefit of Stafford Security.'

Ellis agreed.

Stafford sent Hardin to Kenya as a one man advance party. He did not want Hardin to meet either Gunnarsson or Hendrix by accident and, although there are eight million people in London, he was taking no chances. The West End covers a comparatively small area and it would be plain bad luck if they met face to face in, say, Jermyn Street. In Kenya Hardin was to arrange hotel accommodation and hire cars. He was also to do a preliminary check into the Ol Njorowa Foundation.

Gunnarsson and the fake Hendrix were kept under discreet observation. Stafford arranged to get a look at them so that he would know them again when he saw them. Gunnarsson did nothing much; he frequented the offices of Peacemore, Willis and Franks, which was natural since he owned the place, and he gambled in casinos, winning often. His luck was uncanny. Hendrix, after looking around London, hired a car and went on a tour of the West Country.

It was then that Stafford invited Alix and Dirk Hendriks to dinner; they were his spies behind the enemy lines. Over the aperitifs he said, 'How did you get on in Jersey?'

Dirk laughed. 'I signed a lot of papers and got writer's cramp. The old man had a fantastic head for business. His investments are widespread.'

'Did you know your grandfather?'

Dirk shook his head, and Alix said, 'You've never mentioned him, Dirk.'

'I thought he was killed in the Red Revolt of 1922,' said Dirk. 'There was a revolution on the Rand, a real civil war which Smuts put down with artillery and bombers. That's when he disappeared, or so I was told. It's a bit spooky to know that he really died only a few months ago.'

'And your grandmother – did you know her?' asked Stafford.

'I have vague recollections,' said Dirk, frowning. 'She used to tell me stories. It must have been she who told me about my grandfather. She died when I was a kid. They all did.'

'All?' said Alix questioningly.

'Both my parents, my sister and my grandmother were killed in a car crash. The only reason I wasn't in the car was because I was in hospital. Scarlet fever, I believe. I was six years old.' He put on a mock lugubrious expression. 'I'm a lone orphan.'

Alix put her hand over his. 'My poor darling. I didn't know.'

Stafford thought it odd that Dirk had not told Alix this before but made no comment. Instead he said, 'What's this Foundation in Kenya?'

'Ol Njorowa?' Dirk shook his head. 'I don't know much about it other than what I've already told you. We're going out next Wednesday to inspect it. Since I have to spend a month a year there I'd better learn about it. The Director is a man called Brice. Mandeville thinks a lot of him.'

'How does Mandeville come into it? He's a Q.C., isn't he? I thought Farrar was the executor.' Stafford held up a finger to a passing waiter.

'He did a lot of legal work for my grandfather. Apparently they were on terms of friendship because he said he used to stay at my grandfather's house whenever he went to Jersey.'

'Is he going to Kenya with you?'

Dirk laughed. 'Lord, no I He's a bigwig; he doesn't go to people – they go to him. But Farrar is coming along; he has business to discuss with Brice.'

Stafford turned to Alix. 'Are you going, too?'

She smiled ruefully. 'I'd like to, but I couldn't take young Max. Perhaps we'll go next time.'

'And Henry Hendrix is going, of course. Where is he, by the way? I thought you'd be together.'

'He's sightseeing in the country,' said Dirk, and added tartly, 'We're not going to live in each other's pockets. It's only now that I appreciate the saying, "You can choose your friends but not your relatives".'

'Don't you like him?'

'He's not my type,' said Dirk briefly. 'I think we'll choose different months to stay at Ol Njorowa. But, yes; he will be going with Farrar and me.'

'I might bump into you in Nairobi," said Stafford casually. 'I'm taking a holiday out there. My flight is on Tuesday.'

'Oh?' Dirk looked at him intently. 'When did you decide that?'

'I booked the trip a couple of weeks ago – at least, my secretary did.'

The waiter came up, and Alix said, 'I won't have another drink, Max.'

'Then we'll go in to dine,' he said, and rose, satisfied with his probing.

***

Next day he learned that Gunnarsson had visited a travel agent and a discreet enquiry elicited his destination – Nairobi Stafford had Curtis book two seats on the Tuesday flight and cabled Hardin, advising him to he low. Curtis said, 'Am I going, sir?'

'Yes; I might want someone to hang my trousers. What kind of natty gent's clothing would be suitable for Kenya?'

'The Colonel doesn't want to trouble his head about that. Any of the Indian stores will make him up a suit within twenty-four hours. Cheap too, and good for the climate.'

'You're a mine of information, Sergeant. Where did you pick up that bit?'