Takamori leaned back in his chair, his black, glistening eves resting on Harry's face.
“You have a persuasive manner, Mr. Griffin. How do you suggest I should make a profit on the deal?”
“It's obvious, isn't it? The diamonds are insured. The brokers eventually will pay up in full. You will get three million bucks within a year. You will have the diamonds. You don't have to tell the brokers you have got them back. You will finance my company for a million and a half and the other million and a half goes into your pocket. Simple, isn't it?”
“It would appear so,” Takamori said. “What is this company you suggest I finance?”
“I want to start an air-taxi service. I have all the dope here.”
Harry took out a bulky envelope from his pocket and put it on the desk. “I'll leave this with you. You will want to study it. You can have a ten percent share in the business if it interests you. I'll make it pay. You don't have to worry about that. All I want is the capital, and that's what you've got. I don't expect an immediate decision, but for your own sake, don't take too long to make up your mind.” He got to his feet. “It may occur to you that, if you go ahead with this deal, you will be making yourself a first-rate target for blackmail. Maybe you are, but so am I. This is a partnership: if either member of the partnership tries to double cross the other, there is a blow back to the double crosser. It's not as if I'm going to disappear. If you finance me I'll have a business to look after, and you can always find me. To a certain extent we'll have to trust each other. I could go to jail for finding the diamonds; you could go to jail for twisting the insurance companies. Think it over. I'll be back at this time on Thursday. That'll give you forty-eight hours in which to decide. I'm taking a chance on you. For all I know the police will be waiting for me when I come back. I'm risking that. It they are here then you can kiss the diamonds good-bye.”
Leaving Takamori fiddling with the paper knife, Harry crossed the room, opened the door and let himself out.
When he reached the main lobby, the girl at the reception desk came to meet him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Griffin, Mr. Takamori just phoned through. You haven't left him your address.”
Harry hesitated. Was Takamori going to slick the cops on to him: have him arrested? If that was his intention he could do it when Harry called on him.
“I'm at the Ritz, room 257,” Harry said.
“Thank you, Mr. Griffin. I'll tell Mr. Takamori.”
III
Borg moved ponderously across the room and settled his vast bulk in the armchair facing Ben Delaney's desk. He pushed his black slouch hat to the back of his head, and taking out a dirty handkerchief, he wiped his forehead while he breathed asthmatically, his great chest heaving as he struggled to get more air into his lungs.
“Now look, Borg,” Ben said, resting his hands on his blotter and leaning forward, “forget what I said on the telephone the other night. I was rattled. Okay, so I've been taken for a ride. I've lost fifty grand. Sooner or later anyone with dough gets taken: I don't care who it is. I've decided to write it off to experience. Even if I got the diamonds now, they'd be too hot to handle. O'Harridan is really working on this thing. I'd have to sit on those rocks for five or six years and even then I'd be sticking my neck out. Killing the guard fixed it, and to make matters worse, one of the passengers on the aircraft was a senator, and he's really riding O'Harridan ragged.”
Borg thrust a long, dirty fingernail inside his right ear and began to work it around, his small, hard eyes cloudy. He didn't appear to be listening with much interest.
“So I'm writing off the loss and forgetting it,” Ben said. “I want you back here, Borg. You've got the setup organized. I know I got pretty tough on the telephone, but I was rattled. Well, forget it. The boys haven't been the same without you to chase them. From the way they have been lying down on the job, I could lose a damn sight more than fifty grand wasting time trying to find this punk Green. He'll cut his own throat. Just let him try to put those rocks on the market and see how quick he'll get picked up.”
Borg removed his fingernail from his ear and inspected the lump of wax he had pried loose. He wiped his finger on his dirty trench coat and drew in another long, laboured breath, but he didn't say anything.
Ben moved restlessly. He was worried. Without Borg at the helm, the organization had taken a knock. The boys weren't working and the takings had dropped. There had been a couple of fights, and some small-time punk had tried to hold up one of his nightclubs. All because Borg hadn't been there to watch his interests. Ben knew he was getting old. He didn't want to be bothered with the administration of his organization. All he wanted now was the money and the time to spend it. He realized he had talked out of turn to Borg, and now he was getting as close as he had ever got to apologizing to anyone.
“So look Borg, just take over and forget Green. There's a lot of work for you to do. It keeps piling up. Mitski wants talking to. He pulled a knife on Little Joe last night. We can't have that sort of thing happening. See what you can do about it, will you?”
Borg felt inside his coat, took out a limp pack of cigarettes and fed a cigarette into his mouth. He lit it with a worn, brass lighter that had flared up like a bonfire, and he had trouble in putting it out.
“Not me,” he said, staring at Ben. “It's time I had a vacation. I've been working for you now for two years. All that time I've never had ten minutes to myself. I've got all the dough I want and I don't need work. I'm quitting for a while.”
Ben's face tightened.
“You can't do this to me. You can't get out of the racket, and you know it. Okay, so you can use a little more money. I'll raise your cut to twenty-five per cent of the gross. How's that?”
Borg shook his head.
“I told you: I've got all the dough I want. What I’m after now is a little excitement and looking for Green is going to provide it.” His fat face creased into what was supposed to be a smile, but its effect made a chill run up Ben's spine. “Before you turned into a businessman, Mr. Delaney, I had the work I liked. You told me to take care of a guy and I took care of him. Know what my idea of a good time is? I'll tell you. I like to sit in a car on a dark, wet night, waiting for a guy to come out of his home. That's what I like. I like the waiting with a rod in my hand knowing I can't miss, hearing the bang of the gun and seeing the guy take it, and then the quick getaway. That's what I like, but it doesn't happen anymore. We're acting like a lot of financiers. All we think about is making a fast, but safe buck. I'm fed up with it. Green double-crossed you, but you don't care. You've got too much money. Two years ago, you wouldn't have told me to find him, you'd have found him yourself. Okay, if that's the way you want it, that's the way you want it, but it isn't the way I want it.”