'Run along, Alec, my pet,'Benny said.'Give Vi some money. She's dressing.'
'But she hasn't done any work,' Alec said scowling.
'Never mind... we must never be mean... just give her something. She'll be back tomorrow.'
Alec shrugged and left the studio. Benny shot the bolt on the door.
'We're quite alone now,' he said. 'Let's see the film.' This was not strictly accurate for Vi Martin had come quietly into the studio to collect her handbag. Alec hadn't seen her, and hearing Benny and Girland coming down the passage, she had stepped behind one of the big screens. Girland intrigued her. She was curious to know what his business was with Benny.
Girland handed over the 8 mm film. Benny threaded it onto a projector. He cut the lights and threw the picture on a beaded screen.
The two men stood side by side watching the film. Vi took a chance and peered out from behind her screen. She had only a brief glimpse of what was going on in the film before she ducked back again.
When the film was finished and Benny had put on the lights, he said, 'Who's the girl? I know most of them who work in this racket, but she's new to me.'
'Never mind about her.' Girland sat on a nearby table and swung his legs. 'She doesn't interest me. Any idea who shot the film?'
Benny scratched his ear as he thought.
'There are six boys in Paris making these films.' He perched himself on a stool and regarded Girland. 'There's big money in this rackets but it's dicey. You never know when you're going to get the flics on your collar, but these boys are ready to take chances so long as they collect. Now take that film we've just seen. At a rough guess, it's . worth thirty thousand dollars. The way this racket works is these boys make the film, run off copies, smuggle them into England and America where they sell around a hundred dollars a spool... sometimes more. We have a big market here, of course. Each boy has his own particular camera technique. I would say Pierre Rosnold shot that film. I can't swear to it, but the lighting and the camera angles have Rosnold's touch.'
'Where do I find him?'
'He has a studio on Rue Garibaldi. His front cover is high-class studio portraits for movie stars and society people ...
you know the drag, but his folding money comes from blue films.'
'Do you know him?'
Benny's fat face wrinkled in disgust.
I wouldn't be seen with him in the same toilet. I loathe the beast.'
'And the man in the film?'
'That's a problem with that hood. Rosnold has a permanent stallion for these movies: Jack Dodge ... he's an American.
I've never met him, but I hear he always wears a hood on these films because he doesn't want to be recognised. He works at Sammy's Bar where simply hordes of ghastly American tourists go.' Benny shifted his enormous buttocks on the stool. 'The girl interests me. She's an amateur of course, but she has great technique. She could be making herself nice money... and I mean nice.'
'I'm not interested in her,' Girland said. 'There are three other films, Benny. I've got to find them. It looks as if I'll have to call on Rosnold and twist his arm a little.'
Benny's small eyes widened.
'Be careful, darling. He's atoughie.'
Girland slid off the table.
'So am I.' He grinned at Benny. 'Well, thanks. I'll go talk to Rosnold.'
Benny rewound the film and gave it to Girland.
'Anything else I can do, give me a call.'
They walked together to the door and Benny slid back the bolt.
As they moved out into the corridor, Vi Martin came from behind the screen. She ran silently across the studio to the dressing-room and began hurriedly to dress.
* * *
With sweat running down his face, Drina kept looking at his watch. Kovski had promised to rush a man down to where he was waiting, but up to now the man hadn't arrived.
What was he to do if the man didn't arrive and Girland appeared and drove off in his car? He would be held responsible for losing Girland! He knew Kovski was already displeased with his work. He could get into serious trouble.
He took off his shabby hat and wiped the sweat off his balding head. He moved from one foot to the other. His heart hammered and his mouth was dry.
Then he saw Girland come out of the building.
Drina was unprepared. He shouldn't have been standing in the entrance to the courtyard. He should have concealed himself in one of the many doorways leading into the big apartment block. It was too late now. He lost his head and turned quickly, walking into the street.
Had he not moved so quickly, Girland wouldn't have noticed him, but that panicky movement alerted Girland. He saw the short, fat man wearing a greasy fur hat dart into the street and Girland's eyes narrowed.
He had decided, as he had descended the stairs from Benny's studio, that as Rosnold's studio was close by, he would walk rather than chance finding parking space. So he sauntered out of the courtyard and almost cannoned into Drina who wasn't sure whether to dart to the right or left.
The two men looked at each other.
Girland too had a photographic memory. He placed Drina immediately: a washed-up, hack Soviet agent of the Security police. 'Pardon,' Girland said, moved around Drina and set off with his long strides towards Boulevard Pasteur.
Hardly believing his luck, Drina went after him. He had to half-run to keep up with Girland's swinging strides and sweat ran down his face as he bounced along, dodging people on the sidewalk, but keeping Girland in sight.
Girland was thinking: is this a coincidence? I don't think so. Have the Russians got onto Sherman?
He reached Boulevard Pasteur and stopped at a busy bistro. It was lunch time and he decided to have lunch. He entered the Bistro and took a vacant table at the far end of the big room.
Drina saw him enter the bistro and hesitated. He too was hungry. He again hesitated, then sat at one of the outside tables where he could watch the exit.
From his table, Girland could see the outside terrace and he watched Drina take a seat at a table.
When the waiter came, Girland ordered a steak and a lager. Drina, outside, ordered a ham roll and a vodka.
Drina had placed himself in a bad position. He could watch the exit from the bistro, but he couldn't see Girland. Aware of this, Girland got to his feet and went to a telephone kiosk. He called Dorey.
When the connection was made, Girland said, 'I think our Soviet friends have become interested in our movie. I have Drina on my tail.' Dorey knew Drina as he knew every Soviet agent operating in Paris.
' You have the film on you?'
'Of course.'
'Where are you?'
Girland told him.
'I'll send two men down to cover you. Stay where you are.'
'Hitch up your suspenders!' Girland said impatiently. 'I can handle this. Wake up! You can't send two of your jerks down here to cover me unless you make this official.'
Dorey swallowed this, knowing Girland was right.
'But if they jump you and get that film...!'
'They won't get it. Stop laying an egg! I'll lose this fat slob and I'll call you later. I just thought I'd increase your blood pressure,' and Girland hung up.
