The Way To Dusty Death Part 13

'Sugar-coated cyanide. Quite pleasant to take really. Take about three minutes to melt.'

'Oh, no.' You can't can't do that.' Shock had drained Rory's face of all its colour. 'You just can't. That-that's do that.' Shock had drained Rory's face of all its colour. 'You just can't. That-that's murder.' murder.'

'You want to see your mother again, don't you? Besides, it's not murder, it's extermination. We're dealing with animals, not human beings. Look around you. What do you think the end product of this charming old cottage industry is?' Rory shook his head. He seemed to be completely numbed. 'Heroin. Think of the hundreds, more likely thousands, of people they've killed. I insulted animals by calling them animals. They're the lowest form of vermin on earth. It would be a pleasure to. wipe out all six of them.'

Among the six bound, prostrate prisoners there was a considerable amount of sweating and lip-licking in evidence. All six were plainly terrified. There was a ruthless implacibility in Harlow that made it all too horrifyingly plain that he was in deadly earnest.

Harlow knelt on Neubauer's chest, tablet in one hand, gun, in the other. He struck Neubauer, stiff-fingered, in the solar plexus. Neubauer gasped and Harlow stuck the silencer of his pistol into his opened mouth so preventing him from clenching his teeth. With finger and thumb he held the tablet alongside the silencer.

Harlow said: 'Where is Mrs. MacAlpine?' He withdrew the gun. Neubauer was babbling, almost mad with fear.

'Bandol! Bandol! Bandol! In a boat.'

'What type? Where?'

'In the bay. Motor yacht. Forty feet or so. Blue with white top. The Chevalier The Chevalier it's called.' it's called.'

Harlow said to Rory: 'Bring me that strip of Scotch tape from the side of the table.' He repeated his two-fingered a.s.sault on Neubauer's solar plexus. Once again the gun was in the mouth. Harlow dropped the tablet in. 'I don't believe you.' He strapped the tape across Neubauer's mouth. 'Just to prevent you from spitting that cyanide tablet out.'

Harlow moved across to the man who had made the vain attempt to pull his gun. Tablet in hand, he sank to his knees. Totally panic-stricken, the man started screaming at Harlow before the latter could speak.

'Are you mad? Are you mad? For G.o.d's sake, it's true! The Chevalier. The Chevalier. Bandol. Blue and white. She's anch.o.r.ed two hundred metres off-sh.o.r.e.' Bandol. Blue and white. She's anch.o.r.ed two hundred metres off-sh.o.r.e.'

Harlow stared at the man for a long moment, nodded, rose, crossed to the wall phone, lifted the receiver and dialed 17 - Police secours, Police secours, which can be variously interpreted as police-help or police-emergency. He made contact almost instantly. which can be variously interpreted as police-help or police-emergency. He made contact almost instantly.

Harlow said : 'I'm speaking from the Villa Hermitage in the rue Georges Sand. Yes, that's it. In a bas.e.m.e.nt room you will find a fortune in heroin. In the same room you will find the equipment for the bulk manufacture of heroin. Also in the same room you will find six people responsible for the manufacture and distribution of this heroin. They will offer no resistance - they are securely bound. Three of them are the Marzio brothers. I have taken their identification papers along with those of a wanted murderess called Anne-Marie Puccelli. These will be given to you later tonight.' There came from the earpiece the sound of a voice talking rapidly, urgently, but Harlow ignored it. He said : 'I will not repeat myself. I know that every emergency call is tape-recorded, so there's no point in trying t detain me until you get here.' He hung up, to find Rory gripping his arm.

Rory said desperately : 'You've got your information. The three minutes aren't up. You could still get that tablet from Neubauer's mouth.'

'Ah, that.' Harlow put four of the tablets back in the small bottle, held up the fifth, 'five grains acetylsalicylic acid. Aspirin. That's why I taped his mouth - I didn't want him shouting to his pals that all he had been fed was an aspirin - there can't be an adult human being in the western world who doesn't know the taste of aspirin. Look at his face -he's not terrified any more, he's just hopping mad. Come to that, they all look hopping mad. Ah, well.' He picked up the girl's handbag and looked at her. 'We'll borrow this temporarily - fifteen, twenty years, whatever the judge cares to give you.'

They left, bolting and locking the door behind them, took the gate key from the hall table, ran through the open front door, down the driveway then unlocked and opened the gates. Harlow pulled Rory into the shadow of a cl.u.s.ter of pine trees.

Rory said: 'How long do we stay here?'

'Just till we make sure that the right people get here first.'

Only seconds later they heard the ululating wails of approaching sirens. Very shortly afterwards, sirens still on and lights flashing, two police cars and a police van came at speed through the gateway and pulled up in a shower of spraying gravel and at least seven policemen ran up the steps and through the open doorway. Despite Harlow's rea.s.surance that the prisoners had been immobilized, they all considered it necessary to have their guns in their hands.

Harlow said : The right people got here first.'

Fifteen minutes later, Harlow was seated in an armchair in Giancarlo's laboratory. Giancarlo, leafing through a bundle of doc.u.ments in his hands, heaved a long sigh.

'You do lead an interesting life, John. Here, there, everywhere. You've done us a great service tonight. The three men you speak of are indeed the notorious Marzio brothers. Widely supposed to be Sicilians and in the Mafia, but they're not. As you've discovered, they're Corsicans. Corsicans regard the Sicilian Mafiosa as bungling amateurs. Those three have been at the top of our list for years. Never any evidence - but they won't get out of this one. Not when they're found alongside several million francs' worth of heroin. Well, one good turn deserves another.' He handed some papers over to Harlow. 'Jean-Claude has preserved his honour. He broke the code this evening. Interesting reading, no?'

After about a minute Harlow said : 'Yes. A list of Tracchia's and Neubauer's drop-offs throughout Europe.'

'No less.'

'How long to get through to Dunnet?'

Giancarlo looked at him almost pityingly. 'I can reach any place in France inside thirty seconds.'

There were almost a dozen policemen in the outer office of the police station together with Neubauer and his five felonious companions. Neubauer approached the sergeant at the desk.

'I have been charged. I wish to phone my lawyer. I have the right.'

'You have the right.' The sergeant nodded to the phone on the desk.

'Communications between lawyer and client are privileged.' He indicated an adjacent phone booth. 'I know what that's for. So that the accused can talk to their lawyers. May I?'

The sergeant nodded again.

A phone rang in a rather luxurious flat not half a mile from the police station. Tracchia was reclining at his ease on a couch in the lounge. Beside him was a luscious brunette who evinced a powerful aversion to wearing too many clothes. Tracchia scowled, picked the phone up and said : 'My dear Willi! I am desolate. I was unavoidably detained -'

Neubauer's voice carried clearly.

'Are you alone?'

'No.'

Then be alone.'

Tracchia said to the girl: 'Georgette, my dear, go powder your nose.' She rose, sulkily, and left the room. Into the phone he said : 'Clear now.'

You can thank your lucky stars that you were unavoidably detained otherwise you'd be where I am now - on the way to prison. Now listen.' Tracchia listened very intently indeed, his normally handsome face ugly in anger as Neubauer gave a brief account of what had happened. He finished by saying: 'So. Take the Lee Enfield and binoculars. If he gets there first pick him off when he comes ash.o.r.e - if he survives Pauli's attentions. If you get there first, go aboard and wait for him. Then lose the gun in the water. Who's aboard The Chevalier The Chevalier now?' now?'

'Just Pauli. I'll take Yonnie with me. I may need a lookout or signal-man. And look, Willi, not to worry. You'll be sprung tomorrow. a.s.sociating with criminals is not a crime in itself and there's not a single shred of evidence against you.'

'How can we be sure? How can you be sure that you yourself are in the clear? I wouldn't put anything beyond that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Harlow. Just get him for me.'

That, Willi, will be a pleasure.'

Harlow was on the phone in Giancarlo's laboratory. He said : 'So. Simultaneous arrests 5 a.m. tomorrow. There's going to be an awful lot of unhappy people in Europe by 5.10 a.m. I'm in a bit of a hurry so I'll leave Giancarlo to give you all the details. Hope to see you later tonight. Meantime, I have an appointment.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rory said: 'Mr. Harlow, are you secret service or special agent or something?'

Harlow glanced at him, then returned his eyes to the road. He was driving quickly but nowhere near his limit: there seemed to be no compelling urgency about the task on hand. He said: 'I'm an out of work race driver.'

'Come on. Who are you kidding?'

'No one. In your own phraseology, Rory,, just giving Mr. Dunnet a bit of a hand, like.'

'Doing what, Mr. Harlow? I mean, Mr. Dunnet doesn't seem to be doing very much, does he?'

'Mr. Dunnet is a co-ordinator. I suppose I'm what might be called his field man.'

'Yes. But doing what?' what?'

'Investigating other Grand Prix drivers. Keeping an eye on them, rather. And mechanics - anyone connected with racing.'

'I see.' Rory, clearly, did not see at all. 'I'm not being rude, Mr. Harlow, but why pick you? Why not investigate you?'

'A fair question. Probably because I've been so very lucky in the last two years or so that they figured that I was making more money honestly than I possibly could dishonestly.'

'That figures.' Rory was in a very judicial mood. 'But why why were you investigating?' were you investigating?'

'Because something has been smelling and smelling badly on the Grand Prix circuits for over a year now. Cars were losing that seemed a certainty to win. Cars were winning that shouldn't have had a chance. Cars had mysterious accidents. Gars went off the track where Acre was no earthly reason why they should have gone off the track. They ran out of petrol when they shouldn't have run out of petrol. Engines over-heated through a mysterious loss of oil or coolant or both. Drivers fell ill at the most mysterious times - and the most inconvenient times. And as there is so much prestige, pride, power and above all profit in running a highly successful racing car, it was at first thought that a manufacturer or, more likely, a race team owner was trying to corner the market for himself.'

'But he wasn't?'

'As you so brightly remark, he wasn't. This became clear when manufacturers and team owners discovered that they were all all being victimized. They approached Scotland Yard only to be told that they were powerless to intervene. The Yard called in Interpol. In effect, Mr. Dunnet.' being victimized. They approached Scotland Yard only to be told that they were powerless to intervene. The Yard called in Interpol. In effect, Mr. Dunnet.'

'But how did you get on to people like Tracchia and Neubauer?'

'In the main, illegally. Round the clock telephone switchboard watch, maximum surveillance of all suspects at every Grand Prix meeting and interception of all incoming and out-going mail. We found five drivers and seven or eight mechanics who were stashing away more money than they could have possibly earned. But it was an irregular sort of thing for most of them. It's impossible to fix every race. But Tracchia and Neubauer were stashing it away after every race. So we figured they were selling something - and there's only one thing you can sell for the kind of money they were getting.'

'Drugs. Heroin.'

'Indeed.' He pointed ahead and Rory caught the sign 'BANDOL' picked up by the headlights. Harlow slowed, lowered his window, poked his head out and looked up. Bands of cloud were beginning to spread across the sky but there was still much more starlit sky than cloud. Harlow withdrew his head and said: 'We could have picked a better night for the job. Far too d.a.m.n bright. They're bound to have a guard, maybe two, for your mother. Point is, will they be keeping a watch - not only seeing that your mother doesn't escape but that no one comes aboard? No reason why why they should a.s.sume that anyone should try to board they should a.s.sume that anyone should try to board The Chevalier - The Chevalier - I can't think of any way they can have heard of the misfortune that has happened to Neubauer and his pals. But that's the way an organization like the Marzio brothers has survived so long-by never taking chances.' I can't think of any way they can have heard of the misfortune that has happened to Neubauer and his pals. But that's the way an organization like the Marzio brothers has survived so long-by never taking chances.'

'So we a.s.sume there is a guard, Mr. Harlow?'

That is what we a.s.sume.'

Harlow drove into the little town, parked the car in an empty high-walled builder's yard where it could not possibly be seen from the narrow alleyway outside. They left the car and soon, keeping in deep shadow, were cautiously picking their way along the small waterfront and harbour. They halted and scanned the bay to the east.

'Isn't that her?' Although there was no one within earshot, Rory's voice was a tense whisper. 'Isn't that her?'

'The Chevalier for sure.' for sure.'

There were at least a dozen yachts and cruisers anch.o.r.ed in the brilliantly moonlit and almost mirror-smooth little bay. The one nearest the sh.o.r.e was a rather splendid motor yacht, nearer fifty feet than forty, and had very definitely a blue hull and white topsides.

'And now?' Rory said. 'What do we do now?' He was shivering, not because of cold or, as had been the case in the Villa Hermitage, of apprehension, but because of sheer excitement. Harlow glanced thoughtfully upwards. The sky was still heavily overcast although there was a bar of cloud moving in the direction of the moon.

'Eat. I'm hungry.'

'Eat? Eat? But-but, I mean-' Rory gestured towards the yacht.

'All things in their time. Your mother's hardly likely to vanish in the next hour. Besides, if we were to - ah - borrow a boat and go out to The Chevalier The Chevalier ... I don't much fancy being picked out in this brilliant moonlight. There are clouds moving across. Let's bide a wee.' ... I don't much fancy being picked out in this brilliant moonlight. There are clouds moving across. Let's bide a wee.'

'Let's what?'

'An old Scottish phrase. Let's wait a little while Festina lente.' Festina lente.'

Rory looked at him in bafflement. 'Festina 'Festina what?' what?'

'You really are an ignorant young layabout.' Harlow smiled to rob his words of offence. 'An even older Latin phrase. Make haste slowly.'

They moved away and brought up at a waterside cafe which Harlow inspected from the outside. He shook his head and they walked on to a second cafe, where the same thing happened. The third cafe they entered. It was three-parts empty. They took seats by a curtained window.

Rory said: 'What's -this place got that the others haven't?'

Harlow twitched back the curtain. 'A view.' Their vantage point commanded an excellent view of The Chevalier. The Chevalier.

'I see.' Rory consulted his menu without enthusiasm. 'I can't eat a thing.'

Harlow said encouragingly: 'Let's try a little something.'

Five minutes later two enormous dishes of bouillabaisse were set before them. Five minutes after that Rory's dish was completely empty. Harlow smiled at both the empty plate and Rory, then his smile abruptly vanished.

'Rory. Look at me. Don't look elsewhere. Especially don't look at the bar. Act and speak naturally. Bloke's just come in whom I used to know very slightly. A mechanic who left the Coronado team a few weeks after I joined. Your father fired him for theft. He was very friendly with Tracchia and from the fact that he's in Bandol it's a million to one that he still is.'

A small dark man in brown overalls, so lean and scrawny as to be almost wizened, sat at the bar with a full gla.s.s of beer before him. He took his first sip of it and as he did so his eyes strayed to the mirror at the back of the bar. He could clearly see Harlow talking earnestly to Rory. He spluttered and half-choked over his beer. He lowered his gla.s.s, put coins on the counter and left as un.o.btrusively as possible.

Harlow said: ' 'Yonnie' they used to call him. I don't know his real name. I think he's certain we neither saw nor recognized him. If he's with Tracchia, and he must be, this makes it for sure that Tracchia is already aboard. Either Tracchia's temporarily relieved him of guard duties so that he could come ash.o.r.e for a much-needed drink or Tracchia's sent him away because he doesn't want any witnesses around when he picks me off when I go out to the boat.'

Harlow pulled back the curtains and they both looked out. They could see a small outboard-powered dinghy heading directly towards The Chevalier, The Chevalier, Rory looked questioningly at Harlow. Rory looked questioningly at Harlow.

Harlow said: 'Our Nicolo Tracchia is an impulsive, not to say impetuous lad, which is why he's not quite the driver he could be. Five minutes from now he'll be in the shadows somewhere outside waiting to gun me down the moment I step out of here. Run up to the car, Rory. Bring me some of that twine -and adhesive tape. I think we may need it. Meet me about fifty yards along the quay there, at the head of the landing steps.'

As Harlow signalled the waiter for his bill, Rory left, walking with some degree of restraint. As soon as he had pa.s.sed through the bead-curtained doorway he broke into a dead run. Arrived at the Ferrari, he opened the boot, stuffed twine and tape into his pockets, closed the boot, hesitated, then opened the driver's door and pulled out the four automatics from under the seat. He selected the smallest, pushed the other three back into concealment, studied the one he held in his hand, eased the safety catch off, looked guiltily around and stuffed the automatic into an inside pocket. He made his way quickly down to the waterfront.

Near the top of the landing steps was a double row of barrels, stacked two high. Harlow and Rory stood silently in the shadow, -the former with a gun in his hand. They could both see and hear the outboard dinghy approaching. The engine slowed, then cut out: there came the sound of feet mounting the wooden landing steps, then two figures appeared on the quay, Tracchia and Yonnie: Tracchia was carrying a rifle. Harlow moved out from the shadows.

'Keep quite still,' he said. Tracchia, that gun on the ground. Hands high and turn your backs to me. I get tired of repeating myself but the first of you to make the slightest suspicious movement will be shot through the back of the head. At four feet I am not likely to miss. Rory, see what your former friend and his friend are carrying.'

Rory's search produced two guns.

Throw them in the water. Come on, you two. Behind those barrels. Face down, hands behind your backs. Rory, attend to our friend Yonnie.'

With the expertise born of recent and intensive practice Rory had Yonnie trussed like a turkey in less than two minutes.

Harlow said : 'You know what the tape is for?'

Rory knew what the tape was for. He used about a couple of feet of black insulated adhesive tape that effectively ensured Yonnie's total silence.

Harlow said: Clan he breathe?'

'Just'