fond of Ricky Ashford,' he said. 'I loved him. I still do. That's stupid, isn't it? I know exactly what he has done to me, and yet I love him. Even though I know why he brought you here.'
'Do you now?' said Craig.
'To get evidence against the society. To betray us to our own government. Ricky told me everything. I hate you for that. I never wanted to hurt Ricky. Never.'
The unconscious man stirred and groaned, and La Valere was silent.
'All right,' said Craig. 'So I used Ricky, and you had to hurt him. That's too bad.'
'TOM used him? He told me it was this man.'
'I used Grierson too,' said Craig. 'He works for me. He hired Ricky Ashford, so Ashford works for me as well.'
La Valere looked at Grierson.
'You must be very stupid,' he said. 'To work so hard for death.'
'He's been paid,' said Craig, 'and he isn't dead yet. I want to make a deal, Captain.'
'The colonel won't bargain with you.'
'All the arms dealers I know. Everything I know about them. Don't you think he might make a deal for that?'
La Valere hesitated.
'What would you want in exchange?' he asked. 'Just to be left alone. To keep what I have. And the same for Grierson.' 'And for Ricky?'
'For him, too. Of course.'
'I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do,' said La Valere.
Craig said, 'Tell him I'll meet him anywhere-at his office if you like-'
'No,' said La Valere, 'that is rather too public. We will find a place to meet.'
'Just as you like,' said Craig. 'I want to get this thing over with.'
He bent then, and hauled the unconscious man to his feet. A stocky man, muscle running to fat, and a face that looked self-indulgent and cruel. The face of Duclos. Craig slapped him into consciousness and he left with La Valere. He'd wanted to say and do all sorts of things to Craig, but La Valere had barked an order and Duclos had left. The Society for the Solution of the Algerian Problem believed in discipline, that was obvious, and in the hierarchical principle. Duclos had far more brains than La Valere. It would have been better if La Valere had been a little brighter, just bright enough for St. Briac to listen to his suggestions.
It was impossible to walk in on St. Briac unannounced, there were no bufidings near his office where a man with a rifle might hide, and even if there had been, St. Briac was always in the middle of a group; a bomb was too dangerous, too mcfiscrirninate. Over and over again Craig and Grierson argued the possibilities.
'It's got to be the first time,' said Grierson. 'If he's on his guard, the odds are too big.'
'Then I'll go to see him.'
'I'll cover you as much as I can,' said Grierson, 'but it won't be easy to get you out.' Craig shrugged.
'My job is to see that he dies. After that, we'll take what comes.'
Grierson wanted to argue, but the phone rang. Craig picked it up.
'This is St. Briac,' said the voice on the telephone. 'I understand you wish to see me?' 'I do,' said Craig.
'Come and see me then,' said St. Briac. 'Will you walk into my parlor,' Craig said. 'I give you my word as a gentleman that you will not be hurt,' said the voice. 'I never break my word.' 'You like my offer then?'
'It sounds attractive. I will make no promises about your ultimate safety until we have talked. You understand that?'
'That suits me,' Craig said.
'And my safe conduct? You will accept that too?' 'Yes,' said Craig. 'You do everything else, but you don't he.'
'Very well. I have given you my word. Tonight at eight o'clock. At my villa. Bring Grierson with you.' 'Do you want him?'
'No,' said the voice. 'I don't want him, or that other young man, the pretty one. But you will bring Grierson with you. I don't trust you, Craig. I will send a car for you both at seven-thirty.'
'I've got my own car,' Craig said.
'So I hear. An Italian machine, and very expensive. Mine is French, and much more trustworthy. You will ride in mine.'
He hung up, and Craig turned to face Grierson.
'Now we'll have to do it my way,' he said.
Grierson said, 'I don't understand you. You seem almost happy about this.'
'It's time we did something,' Craig said. 'I don't like hanging about. It makes me nervous.'
That afternoon Craig and Grierson took the Mercedes and the Alfa Romeo out to the deserted villa. Craig watched while Grierson walked through the garden, pushed the Alfa inside, and hid it behind a hedge that blotted it out from view. They drove back to Nice in the Mercedes, certain that they had not been followed, yet with their nerves eroded by the tension of waiting.
'Suppose they find the Alfa?' Grierson asked.
'Then we're sunk,' said Craig. 'But you saw how that guard went through the garden. He's done it so many times that he knows there's nothing there, so he doesn't bother to look any more. I don't think they'll find it. What are you going to do with the Mercedes?'
'It'll be picked up,' said Grierson, and Craig asked no more.
After that, they waited in Craig's room until the phone rang. Craig picked it up, listened for a second, nodded to Grierson, then put the receiver down, very slowly. The car was waiting. For the last time he checked the Woodsman, then put it in the soft leather holster under his arm. He checked the Luger, and put it in his trouser pocket. At the foot of the hotel steps, a black Citroen waited. Pucelli held open the rear door, and Duclos sat in the far corner seat, a light raincoat over his arm. He smiled very pleasantiy until the doorman had gone, then he said, 'There is a gun under my coat. Get in-and no trouble.'
They obeyed, and the door slammed behind them. 'There's no need for this,' Craig said. 'We haven't forgotten Cadella,' Duclos said. 'Cadella tried to kill me.'
'No more talk. And put your hands on your knees, both of you.'
Craig shrugged and obeyed, waiting for Duclos to search him, but Duclos was far too well trained for that. The time for searching would come later, when he had help. The big car swept on toward the villa. There a guard waited, covering them both with an automatic carbine. They walked through the garden to the house, through what had once been an elegant hallway and now, though it was cleaned and polished every day, looked like part of a barracks. The room beyond it, where St. Briac waited for them, looked like a battalion H.Q. Their guard was still with them, his carbine covering them both. Very impartial, their guard. Craig thought that the opportunity was as good as it would ever be. He could take out the gun, shoot the man with the carbine, and then St. Briac. There was a fair chance that he would then be killed. Grierson certainly would be. He thought that if he were a Japanese, things would be a lot easier. Kamikaze solved everybody's problems, including your own. Then he thought of Tessa, and wondered if she was safe in Haka-gawa's house.
He said, 'I don't know what all the fuss is about. I asked to come here.'
St. Briac asked, 'Have you got a gun?'
Craig nodded. 'Here,' he said, and his hand moved inside his coat.
The carbine swung toward him, and Craig stood still while Duclos searched him, took out the Woodsman, and laid it in front of his master; slowly, thoroughly, obscenely searched him again and produced the Luger, then repeated the process with Grierson.
'You lied,' said St. Briac. 'You had two guns. I think you will find that it is better to tell us the truth.' He opened the Woodsman, to examine the long barrel and tiny cartridges. 'You are a good shot?' Craig nodded. 'I expected you would be.'
He snapped the gun together then, and turned to the man with the carbine.
'Take Grierson away,' he said. 'Lock him up. We can talk with him later.'
Craig sighed, and willed himself not to watch as Grierson was led away. He was on his own now. Three men here, and at least two more guards. And those three dogs. And there was something wrong. Something he should have noticed, and hadn't. Craig began to sweat.
