Fennel looked at Shalik.
'There are a few additional things to discuss without wasting the time of these other gentlemen,' Shalik said quietly.
Fennel shrugged and sat down again. Shalik waved to the other two, dismissing them.
When they had gone, Shalik selected another cigar, clipped the end and lit it while he looked stonily at Fennel.
'It is necessary, Mr. Fennel, to have a straight talk with you. Your two companions have both served jail sentences, but you can hardly describe them as criminals. However, you are not only a criminal, but a dangerous and vicious one. I have selected you for this operation because of your expertise, but don't imagine I am ignorant of your criminal background. I know you are on the run and anxious to get out of England. You betrayed five criminals in order to reduce your own sentence and the leader of this gang — a man called Moroni — has sworn to kill you. An attempt was made last night, but failed. The second attempt might not fail.' Shalik paused to stare at Fennel who was now sitting up straight, his eyes glittering. 'So from what I am telling you, Mr. Fennel, you will see I keep myself well informed about the people I employ. Now I have received additional information about you. You are wanted for three vicious murders in Hong Kong, Cairo and Istanbul. Two of your victims were females: the third was a male prostitute. I have evidence of these crimes that Interpol would gladly receive. Does all this that I am telling you, Mr. Fennel, interest you?'
Fennel moistened his lips with his tongue.
'Are you threatening me? I got the idea we are working together.'
'Yes . . . we are working together, but that doesn't mean I can't threaten you. There are two things you are to keep constantly in mind.' Shalik pointed his cigar at Fennel. 'The first point is you will leave Gaye Desmond strictly alone. As soon as she came into this room, your disgusting mind began to wonder about her. You were thinking that in the African bush you would have opportunities to behave in the animal way that comes naturally to you. So I am warning you: try something like that with Miss Desmond, and I promise you Interpol will have your dossier from me. Is that clear?'
Fennel forced an uneasy grin.
'You hold the aces,' he said with an attempt at bravado. 'You are reading me wrong, but okay, so she is like my mother.'
Shalik grimaced.
'If you will excuse the personal remark . . . I feel sorry for your mother.'
Fennel gave a hard, barking laugh.
'You don't have to. She was one of the smartest thieves in the racket. If you want to be sorry for anyone, be sorry for my old man. He cut this throat when they put my mother away for ten years.'
'I am not interested in your family history,' Shalik said curtly. 'My second point is this. I want this ring. The operation won't be easy, but a man of your experience and ruthlessness should be able to handle it. However, if you fail, I see no reason why I shouldn't pass your dossier to Interpol . . . so you must understand that I will not tolerate failure.'
Fennel bared his teeth in a snarling grin.
'I'll get the goddam ring for you, but if so much depends on me, how about some extra money?'
'I will consider that when I have the ring. Now get out!'
Fennel stared at him, but Shalik was reaching for the telephone. As he began to dial a number, Fennel got up and went into the inner room where Natalie Norman was typing. He didn't look at her, but went out into the corridor and to the lift.
When he had gone, and when she was satisfied she could hear Shalik talking on the telephone, she turned off the hidden tape- recorder and removed the spool.
Garry shut himself in a telephone booth and called Toni who answered immediately.
'We're celebrating, chicken,' he said. 'I'm hungry. Meet me at the Rib Room, Carlton Towers in exactly one hour from this minute,' and he hung up cutting off her squeal of excitement.
He knew he had to give her at least an hour to get ready. Toni was a languid and slow dresser. By the time he reached the Rib Room he was pleasantly high, having drunk four vodka martinis in the bar of the Royal Towers Hotel.
Ken Jones had left him, saying he had a date with a girl friend. They had paused in the crowded lobby of the hotel and Jones had asked, 'What do you think of it all?'
'It's a job and the money's nice,' Garry returned. 'You and I will get along. I feel that. It's Fennel . . .'
