foot, he overtook Blanc, slowed, gestured with one hand for him to pull in at the lay-by. Alighting from his stationary vehicle, he walked back to the Renault.
'What is it?' Blanc asked irritably, poking his head out of the window.
'We're going to be early at Broc.' Klein opened the door, sat himself in the front passenger seat, shut the door. 'I drove over this route and timed it in sections. We don't want to hang around at Broc. Get there in time for you to hand that case to the Nestle truck driver and leave immediately. Here is the exact address he has to deliver the case to…'
Blanc sat with hands clasped in his lap, made no move to take the card with a typed address. 'I've done what you asked me to,' he went on, not looking at Klein. 'You take the case – and give me my second half-million.'
'It's not going to happen that way.' Klein was relaxed, his hands clasped behind his neck. 'You wouldn't want me to make a phone call – to police headquarters in Berne. They'd be interested to hear about the terrorist groups you've supplied in the past…'
'You wouldn't…'
Then there's the managing director of Montres Ribaud. He'd be intrigued to hear about you. To say nothing of your wife. Then you'd never use your secret funds to buy that villa you covet in Cologny – where you'd live happily ever after with Yvette from Berne. After you'd dumped your wife. How do you propose to dump her?' Klein asked in the same conversational tone.
'I have no idea,' Blanc said, his voice faint.
'Buy a Doberman – one of those fierce guard dogs. Train it to be loyal only to yourself. Teach it a word which means 'Attack!' Then use the word when you are alone in the apartment with your wife. It will rip her to pieces. Who could blame you? The dog went mad. I won't even charge you for the idea.'
'It's quite horrible – your idea…'
Klein glanced sideways. He could see Blanc was already thinking about it. Klein sat in silence, watching the clock on the dashboard. He also kept an eye on the highway, but traffic was light. And no patrol cars.
'Time we moved,' he announced. 'You lead the way. As before.'
Blanc drove automatically for the rest of the journey, turning away from the lake at Vevey, heading north for Broc. He was stunned. All idea of forcing Klein to take the case had vanished from his mind.
How the devil did Klein know about his desire to live in Cologny? Cologny was the millionaire district on the southern shore of the lake just outside Geneva. A place where world-famous racing drivers lived, where Arab sheiks owned villas with grounds patrolled by guards and fierce dogs.
Dogs? The Dobermann idea wouldn't leave him alone. It seemed foolproof. Even the Swiss police would never suspect anything. He'd create an alibi for himself – so everyone would think the dog had killed her while he was away…
He slowed down as he approached the rendezvous, a lonely part of the road not too far from the Broc usine. Behind him the Mercedes was a hundred metres away. Blanc crawled to the bend, stopped, peered through the windscreen. The Nestle truck was parked on the grass verge, also about a hundred metres ahead.
Blanc switched off the engine and proceeded in his precise way. First the card with the address for delivery which Klein had dropped on the seat. Hotel de la Montagne, Larochette, Luxembourg. He slipped this inside the envelope containing a one-thousand franc note – the driver's fee. About?350. Then he left the car, carrying the case, and walked to the truck.
Klein had watched all this through a monocular glass he had taken from his pocket. Once Blanc was out of sight he moved. He ran light-footed to the bend, peered round it. Blanc was climbing inside the cab of the Nestle vehicle, a Ford truck with its body painted cream and a large red band above the chassis. At the rear was a heavy door with a large handle. A VD registration plate, showing it was registered in the Canton of the Vaud.
Klein lifted the bonnet of the Renault, reached in with his gloved hand, took out the distributor arm and hurled it over a hedge into the nearest field. Closing the bonnet, he returned to his Mercedes and waited.
Blanc reappeared within minutes, climbed inside and tried to start up the Renault. Klein waited until the Swiss had made six efforts to get the engine going, then drove alongside. He got out, leaned inside the window.
'It's gone dead on you. Leave it here. I'll drive you to Vevey station. Catch a train to Geneva…'
'I can't just leave my car here…'
'You can't hang around. I thought you said the bank would stay open to accept your bearer bonds.'
'It will
'Not all night. Takes ages to get a pick-up truck. By the time you get back to Geneva the bank will have given up -closed its doors.'
Blanc was in a dilemma. He didn't want to leave the car; even less did he want to carry around a million francs in negotiable bonds. If his pocket was picked anyone could cash the bonds in any bank in the world.
'I can't wait much longer,' Klein pressed. 'Do you want a lift or don't you?'
'Who at Montres Ribaud might have seen you making the timers?' Klein asked as he drove back to Vevey through growing dusk.
'Absolutely no one…'
'Why so confident?'
'Because I always worked on them late into the night. The building was empty.'
'But surely that is unusual? Someone belonging to the firm might have seen a light in your office if they passed it?'
'They would think nothing of it,' Blanc insisted. 'Often I work late for the company's work. You can concentrate – no interruptions from staff or phone calls. When do I get the balance of my fee?'
'Now.'
Klein drove with one hand on the wheel. The other slipped inside his pocket, took out a bulky envelope which he gave the Swiss. He watched with amusement as Blanc produced a pencil torch and closely examined the bearer bond for half a million francs.
'Satisfied?'
'I will be when I have deposited it with the bank. Can't you drive any faster?'
'Not in this treacherous light. Want to end up in hospital and have someone find those bonds?'
Klein was watching the dashboard clock without Blanc realizing it. He timed it so they arrived at Vevey station just after a local had left for Geneva. Blanc would have to catch the express coming up from the Valais. In fifteen minutes. Klein had memorized the timetable in his head. He pulled in by the station.
'Haven't you forgotten something?' Klein asked.
'Oh, the blueprints I made for the devices. I was worrying about my car. Here they are. Now, I must catch my train…'
'The express isn't due yet. Wait a minute.'
Klein opened the envelope, took out the folded contents. Two blueprints. He borrowed Blanc's pencil torch to check them, then handed it back.
'Satisfied?' enquired Blanc, mimicking Klein's earlier query.
There was a hint of smugness in his tone which made Klein look at him quickly. Then he guessed the Swiss had been playing a little game with him. For the first time he misunderstood the plump little man. Blanc reached for the door handle.
Two more things,' Klein said. 'I may have a similar job for you later,' he lied. 'Another million francs…'
'I'd have to think about it.'
'A million and a quarter.'
'Get in touch when you're ready. There was something else?'
'Yes. Travel first-class to Geneva. Remember what you have in your pocket. It will be safer. Train travel can be dangerous.'
'You are probably right. Good night…'
It was a relief for Blanc when he boarded the express. He had worried in case Klein suggested driving him back to Geneva. This was the last thing Klein thought of as he drove the Mercedes into a parking lot near the station.
Unlocking the boot, he took out a large hold-all bag, relocked the car and walked into the hotel facing the station. The toilets led off from the public restaurant. Keeping an eye on his watch, Klein worked quickly. He was
