'Answer me!'
'He told me he was going to Garmisch tomorrow.'
Labrey drew in a long, deep breath, then sat on the bed beside her. He put his hand on her arm, digging his fingers into her flesh.
'Garmisch, Germany? Are you sure?'
'How can I be sure? ... he told me he was... you're hurting me!'
'What happened? Tell me everything!'
As he released the grip on her arm, Vi recounted the meeting at the restaurant and what was said.
Labrey considered what she had told him, then got to his feet. 'All right. Stay here. I must telephone.'
'But I'm hungry,' Vi wailed.
'Then come with me. I want to eat too.'
As Vi struggled off the bed, she asked, 'Have I done right? Are you pleased with me?'
He suddenly smiled at her. The hateful, savage expression went off his face and he was again the Paul she knew.
'You've done damn well... at least, I think so. Come on, let's get out of here.'
At the bistro on Rue Lekain, Labrey left her to order the meal while he shut himself into the telephone booth. He got through to the Soviet Embassy and asked for Malik. Although it was now 21.30 hrs., Malik was still at his desk, plodding through the mass of paper work Kovski had left him.
Labrey reported that Girland was going to Garmisch the following morning.
'Hold on,' Malik said. There was a long pause, then he came back on the line. 'There is only one morning flight to Munich at 07.50. The next flight is at 14.00 hrs. Girland will take the first flight. You are to travel with him. Find out where he is staying. Be careful. This man is very dangerous. I will follow on the next flight. Girland knows me. I can't travel with him. I will wait for you at the Garmisch railway station. Do you understand?'
'Yes.'
'Your girl is to come with me... she might be useful. Tell her to be at Orly airport at 01.15 hrs. How will I know her?'
Labrey stiffened.
'She won't come... she's difficult.'
'She is to come. Arrange it.' The snap in Malik's voice warned Labrey there was to be no farther argument. 'How will I recognise her?'
'She has blonde hair down to her shoulders. I will tell her to carry a copy of Paris Match.'
'Very well. She is to be waiting outside Hertz Rental car office at Orly at 01.15 hrs. Your ticket to Munich will be at Air France's information desk. You understand what you have to do and where to meet me?'
'Yes. Then tomorrow,' and Malik hung up.
Labrey stood for a long moment in the kiosk, then bracing himself, he walked back to where Vi was eating onion soup.
He sat down and began on his own onion soup.
She looked up, lifting her eyebrows.
'Now what's happening?'
He told her that she was to meet Malik at Orly and fly with him to Munich. Vi stared at him, blood leaving her face.
'No! I won't do it!' she said, pushing aside the soup.
Labrey expected this reaction. He shrugged and went on eating.
'All right,' hesaid, without looking at her. 'I've warned you. If you won't do it... you take the consequences. They never take no for an answer... you either do what you are told or you get the treatment.'
Vi shivered.
'Eat up!' Labrey said. 'You told me you were hungry.'
'Paul! How could you do this to me?' she said, tears in her eyes. 'How could you?'
Labrey stared at her coldly.
'I've done nothing.' He stirred the soup as he continued to stare at her. 'You went after Girland. If you hadn't such hot pants for any man with money you wouldn't be in this mess. Don't blame me. But you went after him, now you have a hook in your mouth. It won't and can't come out. I'm sorry for you. You either do what you are told or you'll get the treatment.'
'I'll go to the police V Vi said desperately. 'They'll protect me!'
'Do you think so?' Labrey shrugged and finished his soup. 'Okay, go ahead and tell them. What can they do? Do you imagine they will give you a flic to walk behind you for months? You can't get away. You're hooked. You either do what they tell you or they will peel the skin off your face or shove a wedge between your legs.'
Vi sat for a long moment, her eyes closed, her hands clenched into fists on the table, then she pushed back her chair and got up.
'I'll go back and pack a bag,' she said. T can't eat any more.'
When she had gone, Labrey grimaced. He too had lost his appetite. When the waiter brought him a steak, he waved it away.
Five
Mary Sherman was tall and elegant: a woman in her early forties. She looked as if she had stepped out of a Beaton photograph: immaculately dressed by Balmain, she was extremely conscious that before long she would be the First Lady of the United States. She was a shrewd, cold and calculating woman with a burning ambition for her husband and herself. She had a cold, magnetic charm. She seemed to have an irresistible interest in people who felt, when they met her, that their cares were her cares: it was a trick that served her husband well.
As Sherman came into the big, comfortable lounge, Mary was at her desk, writing a letter. She turned, looked inquiringly at him with those blue, impersonal eyes and then got to her feet.
'Henry! I've been waiting.' She moved to him and kissed his unshaven cheek with a little grimace of disapproval. 'Was it all right? What happened?'
During the drive back to Washington from Kennedy airport, Sherman had got rid of his false moustache, but he had retained the heavy sun goggles. He had picked up his car which he had left at the airport, but his return hadn't been so lucky as his leaving. As he had come in through the back entrance to his imposing house, Morgan, one of the F.B.I, agents responsible for his security, had stepped out of the shadows. The two men had confronted each other, genuine horror in Morgan's eyes.
Sherman realised Morgan's position and he gave him his wide, easy smile, strictly reserved for the people who might vote for him.
'I felt like a breath of fresh air, Morgan,' he said, 'so I slipped out. I'm feeling fine now.' He put his hand on Morgan's arm, patting it as he had patted so many arms of possible voters. 'Naughty of me ... I'm sorry. Let's keep it between ourselves, huh?' Then before the horrified agent could protest, Sherman had left him and had entered the house.
'Morgan spotted me as I was coming in,' Sherman said, stripping off his overcoat, 'but it's more than his job's worth to report it.' He dropped wearily into an arm chair.' Sit down, Mary... let me tell you.'
She sat by his side.
'Have you found her?'
'Not yet.' Sherman went on to tell her about his talk with Dorey and what Dorey was doing.
Mary listened to this, her eyes incredulous.
'You mean there is only this ex-agent looking for her?' she exclaimed. 'This is ridiculous, Henry! Why didn't you consult the police?'
'And make this official?' Sherman shook his head. 'Use your brains! We have no choice but to hope Dorey's man will find her.'
'A crook! Henry!'
