Girland grinned at him.
“So Dorey’s taking no chances.”
“No. We have six men here. You won’t have any trouble. Trouble will be our business.”
Girland returned to the car and drove it through the gateway.
“You’ll find the villa straight ahead,” O’Leary said, looking curiously at the sleeping woman, propped up in the back of the car. His eyes shifted to Ginny and he cocked his head on one side with approval. Ginny stared impersonally at him, sniffed and looked away.
Girland drove up the drive, turned a sharp corner and then saw the villa which was built on two levels into the face of the mountain with a big upper, overhanging terrace. There were window boxes of cascading flowers at every window and the villa was shaded by Sea Pines. It was compact, modern and very de luxe.
“Well! Look at this!” he exclaimed, stopping the car.
A tall, loose-limbed coloured man, Girland guessed would be from Senegal, wearing a white housecoat and white cotton trousers, came running down the steps to open the car door.
“Good morning, sir,” he said, his black face wreathed in smiles, his splendid white teeth gleaming. “I am Diallo, Mr. Dorey’s man. You are very welcome, sir. Everything has been prepared for you.”
And everything had been prepared.
Two hours later, Girland in shorts and sandals, provided by Diallo, lolling on a chaise lounge, the hot sun relaxing him, was talking on the telephone to Dorey.
“Quite a place you have here,” he was saying and reached for the glass of Cinzano bitters and soda that stood on the table by his side. “You know, Dorey, you have taste. I’m surprised. I thought you...”
“All right, Girland!” Dorey snapped. “Cut the comedy. How is she?”
“What do you expect? She was shot full of dope by the Commies and she has had a whiff of your efficient gas. But she’ll survive. Give or take three or four days, she should be as good as new or nearly as good.”
“Should the doctor see her?”
“The nurse says no.”
“I want some action, Girland. Don’t just sit there and imagine you are on vacation. You know what I want you to do.”
“I know, but I can’t do anything so long as she’s in this coma, can I?” Girland stretched luxuriously. This, he thought, was certainly the life. He looked at the distant blue sea, the blue sky and the distant Cap Ferrat. “All these boys you have here with guns... are they part of O’Halloran’s outfit?”
“Yes.”
“So you don’t trust me, Dorey. I’m hurt.”
“Malik beat us to the punch and I’m taking damn good care, now we have got her back, he won’t do it again,” Dorey snapped. “Now, take your job seriously, Girland. You won’t get any more money out of me until you turn in some reliable information. And Girland,” Dorey’s voice became suspicious, “what is this nurse like you have down there?”
“Like... what do you mean?”
“Is she young?”
“I got it. You’re worrying that she might seduce me. That’s okay, Dorey, she’s around fifty with three double chins. A nice old thing, but not my style.” As he replaced the receiver, he looked up to see Ginny standing in the doorway. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Ginny said.
“I am.” He regarded her. She looked very out of place in the blazing sunshine in her nurse’s uniform. He struggled to his feet. “You can’t dress that way in this heat. Get yourself a sun suit. Dorey will pay. Anyway, come to think of it, you haven’t anything, have you? I bet you haven’t even a lipstick?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’ll manage,” Ginny said, regarding him wistfully. “There are some things I need for her. I have a list here.”
“What’s your other name, baby?”
She hesitated, then said, “Ginny.”
“Fine. Now listen, Ginny, relax. I want you to enjoy this visit as I intend to enjoy it.” He raised his voice, “Hey, Diallo!”
A moment later the big coloured man, his face creased in smiles, came hurrying out onto the balcony.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you to take Nurse Roche into Nice right away. She’s got some things to get for our patient. She is also going to buy herself an outfit. Have you any money?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Dorey arranged with the bank I could have money.”
“Then you go along to the bank and get a lot of money and let Nurse Roche fix herself up. Right?”
“Anything you say, sir.”
Girland smiled at Ginny who was regarding him with round eyes.
“Go ahead, Ginny. I’ll watch the patient. Have yourself a ball. You are now the guest of the United States of America.”
An elderly woman, wearing a tiny flowered hat, an emerald green dress and a mink stole rattled the door handle of Sadu Mitchell’s shop on Rue de Rivoli. The door remained locked. The steel grille drawn over the shop window and the darkness beyond the glass door finally convinced her that the shop was shut. She looked with exasperation at her watch. The time was 10.10 a.m.
Sadu, sitting in the room behind the shop, heard the rattling and he moved uneasily, frowning. He hated to lose a customer, but Yet-Sen, sitting opposite him, his yellow face tight with suppressed rage, Pearl leaning on the back of a chair and Jo-Jo in a corner, nibbling his nails, brought him back to the seriousness of the situation.
“This woman should have been dead by now,” Yet-Sen said as the door handle ceased to rattle. “Pekin will be displeased. I am displeased.”
“She could have been dead last night,” Sadu said, “but Dorey moved too quickly for us. How were we to know he would send the woman to the South of France? You will admit we were quick to find that out.”
Yet-Sen who knew who had been quick, gave Pearl an approving glance.
“This time there must be no mistake,” he said. “You are leaving at once?”
“We are catching the 1.55 p.m. plane to Nice,” Sadu said. “We are lucky to get on it.”
“You will have a car waiting?”
“I have a Hertz rental laid on.”
Yet-Sen turned to Pearl.
“Very soon Dorey will find the microphone. He will eventually suspect Wolfert. Do you need this man anymore? If he is arrested, he will talk.”
“I don’t need him,” Pearl said in a cold, flat voice.
“Then that is settled. Let me warn you all, do not make a second mistake. If such a mistake does occur, an example will be made.”
He left by the back entrance and getting into a waiting car, he was driven to the Chinese Embassy. He went to his office and picked up the telephone receiver. He spoke in soft Cantonese.
The subject of this conversation over the telephone arrived at his small, but luxurious villa on the lie d’Or, the garden of which ran down to the banks of the Loire. Wolfert had driven down in his Mercedes sports coupé a little recklessly as when he had returned to his apartment, he had again drunk three stiff brandies.
During the drive down, it had occurred to him that sooner or later Dorey or one of his staff would discover the limpet microphone. What worried him was the sudden thought that they could find his fingerprints on the instrument.
Sweating and very uneasy, he parked the car in the garage, lifted out his suitcase, then walked across to the villa. He unlocked the front door and entered.
Wolfert employed a woman from the village to keep the place clean, but she only came when he was in Paris. He liked to have the villa to himself over the weekends. It was convenient when a girl or maybe two girls came to share the weekend with him.
Setting down the suitcase, he walked into the big lounge and threw open the french windows. Then he went to the cocktail cabinet and poured himself a large brandy. Although it was approaching lunchtime, he wasn’t hungry... just worried.