‘It’s a long story,’ said Ryderbeit. ‘Let’s just say “birds of a feather”. He also owes me a lot of money — from that same skyjacking caper. That’s the reason I’m in on this deal.’
‘And what are Pol’s reasons for taking you?’
‘Because I’m the best pilot I ever met. I can fly anything, drunk or sober, short of a B52 or a supersonic strike aircraft — and that’s only because I never got the chance to try. I can also shoot straight.’
‘How straight’s that?’
‘I can hit a man in the head at over a mile, given the right gun.’
‘How much have you been told about this operation, Ryderbeit?’
‘About as much as you. And just for the record, don’t call me Ryderbeit. Sammy’s okay, but my full legal name now is Daniel Spice-Handler, born Breslau, 1935, resident of Tel Aviv. Anyway, that’s what my passport says, so it must be true.’ He emptied the last of the pastis into his glass and swallowed it neat. Packer reckoned that he had drunk three-quarters of the bottle — not counting anything he had had before they’d arrived — yet he seemed unnaturally sober.
‘Right,’ said Packer. ‘How’s your French?’
‘Ugly as sin, but it works.’
Packer turned to Pol. ‘I understood we were working with clean slates. Yet this man’s got a record that extends from Johannesburg to Ho Chi Minh City, and now he’s hiding behind a phoney passport. What’s the game?’
Pol reached out and patted Packer’s knee. ‘Do not disturb yourself, mon cher. Monsieur Sammy is an old friend. He is also what I call a “reserve force”. In an emergency you could find his talents very useful. As for his history, we have already discussed the usefulness of the double bluff in our tactics. Sammy’s record will prove an admirable distraction to our enemies.’ He gave them both a reassuring smile. ‘As former soldiers, you will both no doubt appreciate the value of diversionary tactics.’ He suddenly heaved himself to his feet and clapped his hands together. ‘Bien, mes amis! I am pleased you have made each other’s acquaintance. I will arrange for you to meet again very soon.’ He nodded at Ryderbeit, then gestured Packer towards the door.
Ryderbeit sat without moving, watching them with his one-eyed yellow glare. Only when they reached the door did he call out in English, ‘Just remember, soldier. You blow me and I’ll kill you.’
Packer followed Pol through the café without replying.
Outside, a sharp salt wind had come up, rattling the shutters down the street. From beyond the houses opposite they could smell the sea. They had left the hired Mercedes, with its Dutch number plates, a couple of hundred yards up the street, and Pol was soon walking with an effort against the wind. Neither of them spoke until they were in the car.
‘Eh alors?’ the Frenchman gasped, letting his seat back while Packer turned south on to the coast road from Berck-Plage to their hotel in Le Crotoy. ‘So what were your impressions of Monsieur Sammy?’
‘He’s either a liar or he’s mad. He may be both.’
Pol chuckled. ‘He is a very serious man, I assure you. He is also a dangerous man. I tell you, sometimes he even frightens me.’
‘What happened to his eye?’
‘Ah, a woman did it to him — a Cambodian woman in Phnom Penh. She had discovered he was being unfaithful to her, and one night she stamped her high heel into his face while he was asleep.’
Packer felt a spasm of envy — the odious notion that if he could excite such passion in Sarah, it would be worth going one-eyed for the rest of his life.
‘You can do me a favour, Charles. If I’m staying on, this is my last night with Sarah. I’d like to dine alone with her tonight.’
‘Why? Do you suspect me of being a rival for your beautiful Sarah?’
Packer could feel the fat man shaking with silent laughter beside him. ‘I want to be alone with her, that’s all.’
There was a pause. ‘Monsieur Packer —’ Pol sounded in earnest this time — ‘are you intending to discuss our little operation with her?’
‘No. For a start, I don’t even know what the operation is. And I’m certainly not going to discuss anything more — with you or anyone else — until the money’s settled. As far as Sarah’s concerned, I’ve got to be able to convince her of that country house — remember? And from the information you’ve given me so far, she probably wouldn’t believe a word of it, anyway.’
‘What would make her believe?’
‘A Swiss numbered bank account.’
Pol nodded gravely. ‘I like your Mademoiselle Sarah. She may have a conventional background, but I have also detected a nuance of rebellion in her. This is not unusual in girls of good family, but in her case she also has the advantage of a strong personality. She is a girl of determination, I think?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Packer was staring ahead at the road. ‘You seem to have taken a lot of interest in her.’
‘But why not, mon cher? A strictly professional interest, of course!’
‘She’s a ruthless, calculating little bitch,’ Packer said.
‘Une fille méchante, hein? Good! That is just the girl we may need.’
CHAPTER 8
Next morning Packer drove Sarah to Le Touquet Airport, where she caught the 9.15 British Caledonian flight to Gatwick.
Their farewell was polite and perfunctory. She had allowed him to make love to her the night before,
