after one married.”
“You live in a strange world, Bruno, if you think honesty and blackmail are the same thing.”
Bruno appeared to ponder. “You could always marry the greatest ex-aerialist.”
“Ex?”
“No problem.” Bruno made a throwaway gesture with his right hand. “I’ll burn my trapeze or whatever the phrase is.” She stared at him. “Just like — just like that? But it’s your life, Bruno.”
“I have other interests.”
“What?”
“When your name is Mrs Wildermann, I’ll let you know.” “This year, next year, sometime, never.” Matrimony was obviously closer to her heart than alternative occupations for a future husband.
“Could be the day after tomorrow.”
She got back to staring at him. “Do you mean here? In this country?”
“Heaven forbid. No. In the States. Special licence. We could get the first plane out tomorrow. Nobody’s going to stop us. I’ve plenty of money.”
She took some time to assimilate this, then said with conviction:
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Bruno said agreeably: “Lots of times that’s true. This time, no. I know what I’m saying because — and it’s no exaggeration — I know we’re in deadly danger. I know they’re on to me. I’m pretty sure they’re on to you. We were followed here tonight. I don’t want —” “Followed? How do you know?”
“I know. Later. Meantime, I don’t want you to die.” For a moment Bruno rubbed his chin with a pensive hand. “Come to that, I don’t particularly want to die myself.” “You’d let your brothers down? You’d let Mr Wrinfield and the circus down? You’d abandon this entire mission?” “I’d abandon anything in the world for you.”
“You’re running scared, Bruno?”
“Possibly. Let’s go to the American embassy now and get things fixed up. It’s hardly office hours, but they wouldn’t turn away a couple of nationals in distress.”
She looked at him in total disbelief. Then the disbelief faded to be replaced with something very close to contempt. Then that look faded in turn to be replaced by a very thoughtful expression indeed. A faint smile touched her face, widened, and then suddenly she began to laugh. Bruno looked at her speculatively, the three men at the adjacent table in perplexity. She said: “You’re impossible. It’s not enough for you to test me once, you have to do it all over again.” It was as if she hadn’t spoken. He said: “You heard me? I’d give up the world for you. Can’t you do the same for me?” “Willingly. The whole world. But not the whole world and Bruno. If we went to the embassy, do you know what would happen! I’d be on that plane tomorrow. But you wouldn’t. Oh, no, you’d stay here. Don’t deny it. It’s in your face. You think you’re the inscrutable Bruno Wildermann. Everyone thinks so. Well, almost everyone. Three months and you won’t have a secret left from me.”
Bruno said: “I’m afraid of that. Okay, okay, so I tried and failed. Nothing new for me. Please don’t tell Dr Harper any of this. He’ll not only think me a fool but he’ll take a dim view of my mingling, shall we say, business and pleasure.” He put money on the table. “Let’s leave. When we get to the door I’m going to turn back on some pretext and have a word with Roebuck. While I do that, have a look around, see if there is any person who might be taking — or about to take — an interest in us.”
At the doorway, Bruno, as if recalling something, turned back. He approached Roebuck and said: “What was he like?” “Medium height. Black hair. Black moustache. Black coat.
He followed you all the way from the circus.”
“Your compartments may be bugged. I doubt it, but no chances. See you.”
Arm in arm he walked along the street with Maria. She said curiously: “What are those three to you?”
“Very old friends. No more. You don’t put friends’ heads on the chopping block. Fellow all in black, black hair, black coat. See him?”
“Saw two, but none like that. One had that horrible marcelled blond hair, the other was as bald as a coot.” “Which means that Junior has returned to hand in his report to his boss.”
“His boss?”
“Colonel Sergius.”
“The Crau police chief?”
“He is not the Crau police chief. He’s the head of the national secret police.”
She stopped and looked at him. “How do you know? How can you know?”
“I know. I know him although he doesn’t know me. You forget this is my country. But I know Sergius and I’ll never forget him. Would you forget the man who killed your wife?” “The man who — oh, Bruno!” She paused. “But he must know now.”
“He knows.”
“But then he must know why you’re here!”
“I imagine so.”
“I’ll go with you tomorrow. I swear it.” There was a note of hysteria in her voice. “That plane, Bruno, that plane. Don’t you know you’ll never leave this country alive?”
“I have things to do. And kindly modulate your voice. There’s a character with horrible marcelled blond hair close behind.”
“I’m scared. I’m scared.”
“It’s catching. Come along and I’ll give you some real coffee.”
“Where?”
“In this accommodation of mine you envy so much.” They walked some way in silence then she said: “Have you thought that if they’re on to you that they may have bugged your place?”
“Who says we’ve got to discuss affairs of state?” Sergius was deeply engaged in discussing affairs of state. He said to Alex: “That’s all that happened? Bruno and the girl went into this cafe, spoke briefly to the two men already seated, took the girl to a separate table and ordered a meal. Then a third man appeared, joined the other two men, went to Bruno’s table, borrowed some money from him and returned to his seat.” Alex nodded. “And you said you didn’t know the names of any of those men, had never seen them before, but that one of them was a giant, as big as Angelo here?” Alex looked at Angelo. “Bigger,” he said with some satisfaction. Angelo was sadly lacking in Kan Dahl’s genial good nature and did not make the most lovable of characters. Angelo scowled blackly but no one paid him any attention, possibly because it was very difficult to differentiate between bis black scowl and his normal expression. Sergius said: “Well, we know who that it. Would you recognize the three men from their photographs?”
“Of course.” Alex looked hurt.
“Angelo. Go tell Nicolas to bring whatever prints he has ready.”
Angelo returned with Nicolas and about twenty prints. Silently, Sergius handed them to Alex, who leafed rapidly through them. He put one on the table. “That’s the girl,” he announced. Sergius said with restraint, “We know that’s the girl.”
“Your pardon, Colonel.” Alex selected three more. “Those.” Sergius took them and handed them to Kodes, who glanced at them briefly and said: “Kan Dahn, Manuelo the knife-thrower and Roebuck, the expert with the cowboy rope.” “Precisely.” Sergius smiled his mordant smile. “Have them shadowed at all times.”
Kodes showed his surprise. “The presence of those three men could have been just coincidence. After all, they are among the outstanding artistes in the circus and it is natural that they should be friends. Besides, the Black Swan is, after all, the nearest cafe to the circus.”
Sergius sighed. “Alas, it was ever thus. I am left to fight on virtually alone. All the decisions have to be made, all the thinking has to be done by a senior officer, which is no doubt why I am a senior officer.” A false modesty was not one of Sergius’s besetting sins. “Our Bruno Wildermann is clever, he may also be dangerous. He suspected, only he knows how, that he was under surveillance and put his suspicions to the test. He had this man Roebuck standing by to follow whoever might follow him. This would make Roebuck — and, by implication, the other two — something just a little bit more than friends. Roebuck followed Alex. He didn’t go to borrow money, he went to inform Bruno that he, Bruno, had been followed by a man with a black coat, black moustache, very stupid.” He bestowed a pitying glance on the crestfallen shadower. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you, Alex, to look over your shoulder? Just once?”
“I’m sorry, Colonel.”
