Youngblood pushed forward, bewilderment on his face. 'What is all this?'
'You might well look puzzled, Mr. Youngblood,' Stavru said. 'Allow me to enlighten you. Your friend Drummond is in reality an agent of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard. His name is Chavasse-Paul Chavasse-and he was apparently put into Fridaythorpe Gaol to keep an eye on you. It would seem your bid for freedom was anticipated.'
'A copper?' Youngblood said. 'Him?' He laughed incredulously. 'Not in a thousand years. I can smell one upwind a mile away. If he's a copper, I'm a monkey's uncle.'
'So?' Stavru turned to Chavasse, eyes narrowed. 'I value your expert opinion. It would seem Mr. Chavasse may well be an agent of another sort.' He nodded to the grey haired man. 'Take Mr. Youngblood and the young lady down to the cellar, Gledik, then I want you to go and make the helicopter ready for flight. We leave in thirty minutes.'
'Now look here … ' Youngblood started, but Gledik simply stepped back and took careful aim with the Luger he was holding.
'You'll have to excuse Gledik,' Stavru said. 'A session with the AVO in Budapest involved him in the loss of his tongue, but he's extraordinarily efficient. I would do what he says if I were you.'
The door closed behind them and he turned with a smile and produced his cigarette case. 'Do have one, my dear chap, and let's get down to business. You and I are, how would you put it, professionals? We know the score.'
Chavasse accepted the cigarette and a light. 'Depends on how you look at it.'
'What are you-M.I.5 or 6?' Chavasse didn't reply and Stavru's eyebrows raised fractionally. 'Something special eh? A compliment, I must say. I like the fake robbery touch to get you into prison. Highly ingenious.'
'Actually it was the real thing,' Chavasse said, deciding for the moment to keep things on the same level. 'We felt that only the best was good enough. I must say you've got quite an organisation.'
'As the advertising types are so fond of saying, we try to give our customers a service.'
'Some service. An early grave for the suckers like George Saxton and Ben Hoffa who were mug enough to fall for the glossy brochure and allowed their cash to pass over in advance.'
'Strange as it may seem, Mr. Chavasse, there is no one quite as gullible as your professional criminal. Their capacity for swallowing any kind of a tall story, hook, line and sinker, never ceases to amaze me.'
'And the ones-the ones you pass on who ended up East of the Iron Curtain? They must have been gold on the hoof.'
'Very much so, I assure you. In fact it occurs to me that certain parties on that side of the political fence might be more than interested in bidding for you, my friend. Every man has his price, in more ways than one.'
Chavasse flicked his cigarette out into the rain. 'In the circumstances, I'm sure you'll appreciate my understandable curiosity as to how you found out about me?'
Stavru crossed to an oak sideboard and poured himself a brandy from a cut glass decanter. 'A very recent discovery, I assure you, but like a good journalist, I never disclose my sources. And now you must excuse me. I have certain preparations to make before we leave.' He nodded to Vaughan. 'Take him down to the others, Simon, then come back here.'
'Youngblood and the girl-what's going to happen to them?' Chavasse said as Vaughan pushed him towards the door.
'They will be well taken care of, I assure you.'
Stavru turned, dismissing him completely and Vaughan opened the door. 'Don't take it to heart, old man. They won't feel a thing-really they won't. I give you my word.'
The cellar into which Vaughan pushed him was in almost total darkness, a patch of light showing from a tiny window on the other side which was far too small to be used as an exit.
As the door closed behind him there was a rustle on the other side of the room and Youngblood came forward.
'Who's that?'
'It's me-Paul.'
There was a moment of stillness during which Chavasse prepared himself for some sudden blow, but it never came and when Youngblood spoke, he sounded strangely subdued.
'Those things he said about you upstairs-they were all true?'
'That's right.'
Youngblood turned away, exploding angrily. 'Me, Harry Youngblood, taken in by a bloody copper.
Chavasse could have pointed out that without his assistance, Youngblood's journey would have come to an abrupt halt at Wykehead Farm, but he knew that he would be wasting his time.
'If you want to know, I couldn't care less about you and your friends and I'm not a policeman. Stavru happens to run a nice little sideline in the sale of state secrets and traitors to people who aren't on exactly friendly terms with our government. The department I work for has one main interest-to see that he's stopped.'
'Which would include making sure that I went back to gaol for fifteen years,' Youngblood said. 'Or did you intend to let me go free?'
'That kind of decision isn't mine to make.'
'My God, after all I've done for you.' Youngblood turned away, shaking with rage and Molly moved out of the darkness to clutch at his arm.
'What's going to happen, Harry?'
He turned on her angrily, shoving her violently from him so that she hit the opposite wall. 'Get away from me, you stupid little whore.'
She sank on to a bench, crying steadily and Chavasse lit a cigarette. 'Does that make you feel any better?'
'Why don't you get stuffed?' Youngblood peered out of the window for a moment and turned suddenly. 'What happens now? Did he give you any idea?'
'Do I have to draw you a picture?'
'Maybe I could make a deal?' Youngblood said eagerly.
'With what? He's got your diamonds, hasn't he? What does he want with you? You're supposed to be at the bottom of the well back there at Wykehead.'
'But there must be something,' Youngblood cried and there was an edge of hysteria in his voice.
Chavasse moved past him, pulled himself up to the window and looked out at ground level across the courtyard. As he watched, Gledik appeared from the trees and ran across to the house quickly.
Chavasse dropped to the ground and turned with a faint smile. 'I think we'll see some action soon.'
It came within three or four minutes. Footsteps hurried along the passageway, the door was thrown open and light flooded in as Vaughan appeared. He had discarded the machine gun and now held a.38 revolver in his right hand. Strangely enough, he seemed rather amused.
'Count Stavru would like a word with you if you can spare a minute, old man,' he said to Chavasse. 'And be warned-he's very annoyed.'
Chavasse glanced at his watch. It was almost nine and he shrugged. 'My time is your time. I've certainly nothing better to do.' He turned to Youngblood. 'If I'm not back in fifteen minutes send out the dogs.'
But Youngblood failed to respond, turning away with an angry exclamation and Chavasse sighed and moved out into the passage ahead of Vaughan.
Stavru was standing by the fireplace talking to Gledik in Hungarian and he turned quickly as Chavasse and Vaughan came in. He was like a different man, the skin drawn tightly over his cheekbones, the eyes cold and hard.
'I understand from Gledik that the engine of the helicopter has been damaged beyond repair. Presumably this was your doing?'
'That's right.'
'That was very foolish of you.'
'I don't think so.' Chavasse walked to the sideboard and calmly poured himself a glass of brandy. 'You're not going anywhere, Stavru. You're finished-all washed up. Before we left Upton Magna last night I phoned through to my headquarters in London. I told them about Longue Pierre and they did a quick check and came up with you, so
