Die Rich Die Happy

'The P.M. wants a police action,' said Loomis. 'He thinks we should tell Russia and the U.S.A. what's happening —then all three countries would be involved. But that's messy, son. Who would be in charge? How many men would each country send? What would happen to the cobalt when the police action's finished? And how long would it take to set up a deal like that? Zaarb might get enough cobalt out before we were ready to move. We'd be in a worse state than China. A hell of a lot worse.' He blew his nose with startling suddenness into a vast and dazzling handkerchief, then turned to stare at Craig.

'You'll have to go in and get her,' he said. 'I got no right to ask it, but I'm asking it anyway. You get her, Naxos votes, and we're okay. Any other way—we've had it, son.'

Craig said: 'I don't know.' He stood up, hard and tall beside Loomis's unwieldy mass. 'I'll go in if I have to— but I want some chance, Loomis. There's no point in going there and getting myself knocked off.'

I'll come with you,' Grierson said. 'That goes without saying.'

'No,' said Craig. 'That isn't the point. Look, supposing we both go—and get nothing—where the hell are we? Schiebel either has us killed or denounces us as assassins, and either way it's the department's loss and he's still got Fhp Naxos.'

'You realize what he'll do to her?'

T realize it,' said Craig. 'If he does, I'll kill him.'

Unnoticed by Craig, Grierson looked up at Loomis. The fat man gave an infinitesimal shake of the head.

'But I need an edge—the thing's got to have some chance of success,' Craig said.

Gradually the color came back to Loomis's face, and somehow his paunch swelled out again to the proud curve of a three-decker's mainsail.

'I'll get you an edge, son,' he said. 'I promise you.'

Then the red telephone shrilled again, and Loomis scooped it up, listened, barked once and slammed it down.

'Naxos's yacht's very active all of a sudden,' he said.

'Did you do anything about stopping it?' Craig nodded.

'We better go there then,' said Loomis and picked up the red phone again. As he talked, Craig looked at Grierson, trying for words that were hard to find.

'If I don't have some advantage, I just can't manage it any more,' he said. 'Dyton-Blease taught me that.'

Grierson squirmed, because he was British, and found it impossible to cope with that kind of honesty.

'You had the guts to say it,' he said. T didn't.'

'You can do your penance later. We've got a helicopter coming,' said Loomis. His great hands slammed together, the fingers interlaced, and one by one the knuckles cracked like gunshots. The other two men winced.

'You can always get service cooperation when it's too late to need it,' said Loomis.

oo«

The helicopter chattered its way through the blackness of the night, until London lay below, a million spangles of light, the river curling among them, a dark, glistening

snake. The helicopter thrashed its way past Tower Bridge, dropping gently to explore the bulk of ships riding at anchor, derricks like robots at rigid attention in the metallic blue of lamplight. At last Craig spotted the Philippa, and pointed her out to Loomis. The helicopter drifted onwards, landing at last in a waste of sawn timber near Candlish's boatyard. Craig went to look for Candlish, leaving Loomis to cope with an outraged nightwatchman.

Candlish had everything prepared, and collected Loomis and Grierson in his elderly Daimler, leaving behind a bemused old man with a whistle in one hand and a truncheon in the other, trying to touch his cap. They drove to the river and transferred from the Daimler to a luxurious launch, and after a while Candlish left them to go aboard a barge. It was the leading one of three immense steel boxes taken in tow by an old and ailing tug. Grierson took the launch's controls, and followed the procession. As they went, Loomis outlined his plan for getting into the embassy, and Craig saw that there was a chance after all, as the dawn came up, pale and tender, and the river was suddenly, momentarily beautiful.

The Philippa had steam up when they reached her. her sleek white lines an aloof contrast to the lumpy drab-ness of the tug and barges, four peasants approaching a queen. Suddenly, the barge's towrope snapped as she swung in a wide arc past the yacht, and Craig watched the work of three master craftsmen. Candlish struggled with his tiller, but somehow, despite all his efforts, drifted straight under the Philippa's bows and crashed into the wooden dockside. Almost at once another barge scraped alongside the yacht, and slammed into her stern; the third slumped wearily on her rudder and propeller. Then all three barges began to sink.

Loomis snorted happily.

'What's in the barges?' he asked.

'Scrap iron and concrete,' Craig said. 'Naxos will be here for weeks.'

'Well have a bite of breakfast, then well go and talk to him,' Loomis said. 'After that we'll see about organizing a riot.'

When they did see him he was a wreck, dead beat for sleep, near crazy with the need for a drink, yet willing himself to stay sober in case anything should happen and Fhp should need him. He looked at them, half stubborn, half eager, and Loomis said at once: 'We know it's Schiebel who's got her. Whatever he said about not seeing us it's too late now, and you can forget about trying to leave. I don't care what threats Schiebel made, you're not going, Naxos.' 'I won't sign,' said Naxos.

'Not yet,' said Loomis. 'Wait until we get her back.'

'He'll give her heroin,' Naxos said. 'You know what that means? If she goes back on it now she's hooked for life.' He looked at Loomis, and there was defeat in his eyes.

'Please,' he said. He had no hope at all.

'What on earth made you do it?' Loomis asked.

'He rang me on the radiotelephone. Told me what he'd done to Swyven, and his parents. Then he swore Philippa would get the same tomorrow. He sounded so certain—he was even enjoying it. That's why I believed him. That's why—'

'You decided to get her out tonight,' said Grierson.

Naxos nodded heavily.

'You poor bloody fool,' said Loomis. 'Just stay here like a good lad and we'll get her back for you. I mean it. But don't waste our time trying to run away. We've got enough to do without fetching you back. And you're all in quarantine anyway. Nobody's allowed ashore.' His head jerked at the door. 'Come on,' he said.

BOO

Mostly she dreamed of horses, great rearing, piebald beasts, with flaring red nostrils, leaping through tall golden trees. They went round her in a circle, and as long as she stayed still she was all right, but if she moved the horses would turn on her, and it might be a horse's head she would see on top of the high-arched neck, or it might be a man's. She tried very hard not to move, but the need for the drug made her restless.

Schiebel had been to see her once, had offered her the drug, and she had refused. Christ, it had been like tearing your heart out to see the stuff, white and clinically pure in his hand, and then say 'No.' And it was stupid too. Because he'd be back, and next time she couldn't say no—she loved Harry, he was all she had, but she couldn't refuse heroin twice. And the second time, Schiebel had warned her, there would be conditions before she got the drug. There always were. But this time it would be Harry who would be humiliated, degraded, as well as she herself. She wanted to die, but hadn't the strength to kill herself, and anyway, he would be there to stop her.

Schiebel said: 'Mrs. Naxos,' and she opened her eyes at once. He was bending over her and she was wide awake, but the horses were still there, rearing among the golden trees. She opened her mouth to scream and Schiebel struck her. The blow gave no pain, no meaning, but her head whirled, and when it cleared the horses became a picture of a carousel on the wall. 'I've brought your medicine,' Schiebel said. 'Would you like it now?'

And there was the white, essential packet in his hands, and she tried to say 'go away,' but the words would