Then suddenly, to Packer’s dismay, there were three that were the clearest of all: they showed him and Sarah arriving at Le Touquet airport; waiting at the check-in counter — this one showed Sarah in clear profile; and him giving her a tentative embrace before she joined the queue through the gate.
The last two on the second sheet were long shots across the sand at Berck-Plage, showing the three of them on the beach.
Packer passed them to Ryderbeit, then turned back to Pol. ‘It’s not good. For starters, it’s bloody bad.’
‘I think it is excellent!’ Pol cried. ‘Thanks to your initiative we have plucked the evidence from under their noses. And since we have the negatives, there is no risk of Monsieur Chamaz having sent copies back to his masters.’
Packer nodded gravely, wondering if Pol were being unusually optimistic, or again perhaps testing him. ‘Yes, we’ve got two reels. But we’ve got no guarantee that there aren’t others.’
Pol made a little pooh-poohing noise. ‘You can see for yourself that the pictures cover our movements from Amsterdam to the moment you surprised him in his car. What do you fear?’
‘First — before we’ve even sat down and made the most provisional plan of action — someone has sent an agent after us who’s filmed us all — Sarah included — from the very beginning, before I even knew who you were. That’s bad enough. But even without the films, this man Chamaz is going to be able to give a description of us, to whoever he works for — and we can guess who that is — and will probably be able to recognize us again.’
There was a pause. Ryderbeit slung the contacts back at Pol and swallowed the rest of his marc. His face was dark and mean. ‘I tell you what I think,’ he said at last. ‘I think Packer Boy may be smart, but he’s also soft.’ He jabbed a slender finger at Packer’s face. ‘You shouldn’t have just bloodied that bastard on the beach back there — you should have sent him straight up to the Great Reaper!’
Packer looked at him without expression. ‘Sure. The moment Charles starts getting his team together, the Ruler sends a snooper after us. Not a very serious job — just a leg-man who can take a few snaps for the record. For all we know, the Ruler’s got teams of men working the field all over Europe. But once one of those leg-men gets knocked off, the Ruler’s got the odds narrowed down so finely he doesn’t even have to go on looking. Beating Chamaz up was a risk, I grant you, but at least it could pass as a simple robbery — and anyway, I couldn’t think of a better way of getting the films.’
He looked back at Pol. ‘But there’s an even more serious aspect to all this. If Chamaz had got on to us here — or even in Le Crotoy — I’d have said it was pretty smart Intelligence work, and with a pretty efficient organization behind him. But he got on to us in Amsterdam. He even got on to me and Sarah — judging by these pics — before he got on to you, Charles. That doesn’t sound like good Intelligence. It sounds like either a leak or collusion.’
Pol listened with his naughty smile; but in his eyes Packer detected that gleam of cunning. The fat man giggled. ‘You are making a most impolite suggestion, mon cher. It is also an absurd suggestion. Why should I — who am paying you both so handsomely — wish to betray our operation?’
Packer said nothing, because he could think of no logical, even plausible, counter to Pol’s reply. ‘Right, let’s forget about Chamaz for the moment. We came here to sign a few cheques. Sammy and I both want our ten per cent advance. I want £50,000 released from our joint account, which I propose to deposit in a bank in Geneva before lunch. I’m ready to sign, Charles.’
‘One moment, please.’ Pol’s expression was suddenly solemn. ‘Ten per cent is a great deal to pay for a few photographs. As I have already told you, I am employing you, Capitaine Packer, not only as a man of action, but of ideas. You acted, in a modest way, in Berck-Plage. But now I require something on a larger scale — your overall plan of action.’
‘A provisional plan,’ said Packer. He signalled for more coffee, then turned to Ryderbeit, who had just lit up a cigar. ‘Can you ski, Sammy?’
‘Sure I can.’
Packer frowned. ‘I’m talking about snow skiing. You get much of that on the Rand or up in the rain forests of the Congo?’
Ryderbeit gave an evil grin. ‘You ignorant Welsh provincial. Never heard of Kilimanjaro? The Atlas Mountains? The Lebanon?’
Packer nodded and turned back to Pol. ‘We’ll start with the shopping list. Sammy and I are going to buy our skis, boots and gear today in Geneva. Buy them mind — not hire them — because I want our names on as few records as possible. We’ll also hold on to that Fiat of yours,
