Suddenly Joey felt a wave of relief run through him. When Vin had the stamps, he would leave the bungalow and they would be rid of him. Not only rid of him, but the operation would be abortive. He didn’t want all this money. He had never wanted to take such a risk. He would explain to Cindy just why he had handed over the stamps and she would understand. With any luck, they would get rid of Elliot too and would then be able to settle down once again to their old life. It was a good life, Joey told himself. Maybe in a few years’ time, Cindy would find a decent man and they would get married. All right... she had said she was in love with Elliot, but once Elliot was off the scene, she would forget him.
‘I’m going,’ Joey said. ‘I’ll get the stamps. You just wait here.’
With an almost jaunty step, he left the bungalow.
Through the window, Vin watched him go. Joey’s sudden change of attitude baffled him.
‘The old goat’s nutty,’ he thought. ‘Goddamn it! He looks almost happy!’
Shrugging, he crossed the room and picked up the telephone book. He found the number of the Belvedere hotel and dialed it.
‘Put me through to Mr. Radnitz,’ he said when the receptionist came on the line.
There was a delay, then Holtz, who took all incoming calls, said, ‘Mr. Herman Radnitz’s secretary.’
‘Give me Mr. Radnitz,’ Vin said.
‘Who is calling?’
‘Never mind. I’ve got business with him.’
‘Please state your business in writing,’ Holtz said and hung up.
For a long moment, his face red with fury, Vin stared at the telephone, then he dialled the hotel again.
Again Holtz came on the line.
‘I want to talk to Radnitz!’ Vin snarled. ‘Tell him it’s to do with stamps.’
At the other end Holtz stiffened to attention.
‘Your name?’
‘Get stuffed, you goddamn dummy!’ Vin bawled. ‘Tell him!’
‘Hold on.’ Getting to his feet, Holtz went quickly out on to the terrace.
Radnitz was having a late cup of coffee.
‘There’s a man on the line who wants to talk to you, sir,’ Holtz said. ‘He won’t give his name but he says it is to do with stamps.’
Radnitz put down his cup.
‘Put him through and trace the call,’ he said.
A moment later, Vin heard a guttural voice say, ‘This is Radnitz. Who are you?’
‘Never mind.’ Vin was sweating with excitement. A Big Shot like Radnitz wouldn’t have come on the line unless he was the guy who wanted the stamps. This meant Elliot had guessed right. ‘Are you interested in eight Russian stamps?’
There was a pause, then Radnitz said, ‘Yes, I am interested.’
Vin paused. He wasn’t sure how to play this.
‘I said I was interested,’ Radnitz said sharply as he heard nothing but a quiet humming over the line. ‘Have you got them?’
‘I’ve got them.’ Vin wiped the sweat from his face. ‘What they worth to you?’
‘We are talking over an open line,’ Radnitz said smoothly. ‘I suggest you come and see me. Come right away.’
Vin suddenly relaxed. So this rich, powerful punk was that eager, he thought.
‘I’ll call back. I’m busy right now. Maybe I can fit you in sometime tonight,’ he said and he hung up.
Leaning on the table, staring at the telephone, he felt a surge of power. A million dollars! Maybe he could squeeze a million and a half out of this punk! So he called the President by his first name! So he was the biggest wheeler-dealer in the world! Well, Vin thought, I’ll show him! If he wants these stamps so goddamn bad, then he’ll sweat for them.
Holtz came across the terrace to where Radnitz was sitting, staring out to sea.
‘The call was from the Seagull bungalow, sir.’
‘It would be this man Pinna?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you Lessing’s report for this morning?’
‘Yes, sir. Elliot and Miss Luck left the bungalow at 10.00. They are being followed. Luck left at 10.45. He is also being followed.’
Radnitz nodded.
‘Keep me informed,’ he said and waved Holtz away.
At the Excelsior hotel, Elliot shut himself in an air-conditioned telephone booth and waited for his connection to C.I.A. headquarters, Washington.
Through the glass panel he could see Cindy sitting across the lounge, looking anxiously at him. He waved to her as he was connected. He asked to speak to Mr. Lee Humphrey. He went through the usual rigmarole of talking to an undersecretary, then to a secretary, then finally Humphrey came on the line himself.
‘Mr. Humphrey, I wish to remain anonymous,’ Elliot said. ‘I understand your organization is interested in eight Russian stamps.’
There was no hesitation in Humphrey’s booming voice as he said, ‘That is correct. If you have any information regarding these stamps, it is your duty to the State to give that information right here and now.’
Elliot grimaced.
‘My duty to the State? Would you expand on that?’
‘The State wants these stamps. Every philatelist in the country has been notified to this effect. There is a penalty of three years’ imprisonment and a thirty thousand dollar fine if anyone holding these stamps does not send them immediately to me.’
‘Can you tell me, Mr. Humphrey, just why these stamps are so important to the State?’
‘I can’t tell you that. Have you the stamps?’
‘It would make a difference if I knew,’ Elliot said. ‘If you will be frank with me and tell me just why these stamps are so important I will answer your question.’
‘I can’t tell you over an open line. If you have these stamps or know where they are or have any information it is your duty to go to the nearest C.I.A. office and either deliver the stamps or give information.’
‘You keep talking about duty, Mr. Humphrey. I’ve been offered a million dollars for these stamps. Is the State making an offer?’
‘That we can discuss. So you have them?’
‘I’ll call you back later,’ Elliot said, aware that he had talked long enough on this telephone. He hung up. Taking out his handkerchief, he carefully wiped the receiver, then the door handle of the booth. Satisfied he had got rid of any fingerprints, he walked over to where Cindy was sitting.
She could see by the expression oil his face he was worried.
‘What is it, Don?’
He told her of the conversation he had had with Humphrey and as she listened, her eyes grew round.
‘Duty to the State?’ She put her hand on his. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The C.I.A. aren’t dramatic,’ Elliot said. ‘It seems to me well have to give them the stamps. The last thing we want is to get the C.I.A. after us.’
‘Let’s go home, get the stamps and send them,’ Cindy said. ‘What do you think they can mean... duty to the State?’
Elliot gave her a little nudge as two big men, quietly dressed, came swiftly into the hotel lounge. One of them went to the girl who was in control of the switchboard, spoke to her, then went to the booth where Elliot had made his call.
‘The C.I.A.,’ Elliot said. ‘Just take it easy. I want to see what they do.’
One of the men was closely dusting the receiver for fingerprints while the other went to the hall porter and began to question him.
‘Okay, Cindy, let’s go.’ Elliot got casually to his feet.
The hotel lobby was swarming with tourists and by walking slowly, pushing their way through the crowd, they attracted no attention.
‘I’ve got to talk to Humphrey again,’ Elliot said. ‘We’ll drive to Dayton Beach.’
They got into the Alfa Romeo and Elliot headed north. Cindy looked anxiously at him as he drove. There was a bitter expression on his face now and it frightened her.
‘Don... let’s go back,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. We can get by. We don’t have to have this money. If you’ll stay with dad and me...’