He sat up and rounded on her. ‘Don’t be a bloody little fool! The Ruler’s been assassinated and you were in on it. You were seen with me last night by that agent, Chamaz. And that’s just for starters.’
‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that,’ she replied, with exasperating coolness. ‘He also saw me with DJ and Jocelyn and Serena Knox-Partington — and Jo’s head of one of the biggest electrical firms in Britain. You think they’ll try and bump him off too?’
Packer had closed his eyes. ‘One of the Ruler’s men also saw you up at the Gotschnagrat,’ he said feebly.
‘He’ll never recognize me — not the way I was dressed.’
‘What did you do with the radio?’
‘Don’t worry, nobody’ll find it until the snow melts.’
‘Did you leave any fingerprints?’ he asked desperately, playing for time now.
‘Don’t be silly. You don’t think I’d go up the mountain without gloves, do you?’ She signalled for the bill. Packer made a belated attempt to intervene, but she had already got her purse out. It seemed a depressingly final gesture.
‘When are you coming back to London?’
‘I don’t know.’ She slid off her stool and stood facing him, their eyes level. ‘I’m sorry, Owen, but it’s all over. I can’t explain properly — and anyway, you’ve got to go. It’s too dangerous for us to stay together. And that business with the necklace last night, well —’ her voice filled with sudden righteousness — ‘that’s just something I can’t forget. I’m sorry. But there it is. Now, can you give me a lift — just down to the town? I can’t walk,’ she added, ‘because you’ve got all my cases in the car, remember?’
She stood beside him, waiting. Packer could think of nothing to say: nothing sensible nor dramatic, not even outraged pleading came to his lips. He sat staring at the pool of melted snow that had spread out under his boots on the floor.
‘Come on,’ she said.
He followed her dumbly, through the crowds, into the street outside which lay in the shadow of the mountain, filled with a macabre carnival air, its music a cacophony of sirens and motor horns. He unlocked the car and they got in. ‘Well, where to?’
‘The Chesa. I’ve got to meet DJ there in half an hour.’ She paused as he started the engine. ‘Don’t try to come in. It won’t do any good.’
He did an angry three-point turn, oblivious of the crowds. ‘You’re going to have one hell of a time getting to St Moritz,’ he said at last; ‘if you get there at all.’
‘That’s all right. Jo Knox-Partington’s got a private helicopter laid on.’
‘You think you’ll get air clearance with all this going on? They’ve got half the Swiss air force up there at the moment.’ He was driving on his brakes, his hand on the horn, weaving and jolting through the crowds.
‘Oh well, if we don’t,’ Sarah said lightly, ‘we’ll just have to go by car. It won’t matter getting there late — it’s an all-night party.’ They had reached the main street where there was an almost unbroken convoy of traffic moving in the direction of the Wolfgang-Davos road. ‘I’m sorry about Sammy,’ she added. ‘But he wasn’t really much of a friend of yours, was he? Still, it was a horrible thing to happen.’
Packer said nothing. He shot forward into a gap between two cars, and pulled up outside the Chesa Grishuna Hotel; got out, unlocked the boot, and after pushing Ryderbeit’s gigantic bag to one side, lifted out Sarah’s cases and laid them in the snow. When he looked up, she was standing in front of him, her little mittened hand held out.
‘Goodbye, Owen.’
He breathed in, and nodded. ‘You’ll be getting in touch with Charles Pol, of course?’
‘I expect so.’
Then he lost his temper; grabbed her arm and jerked her round. ‘Did Pol pay you ten per cent down, and the rest when the Ruler was dead? Just to get up there on the mountain and say half a dozen words into a radio? While Sammy and I take all the risks and do the job — and Sammy gets killed doing it — and you choose this moment to run out on us, just to enjoy some bloody uppercrust jamboree where you can pick up a millionaire or two!’
She managed to wriggle free and stepped back, white-faced, the lipstick smeared like blood at the corner of her mouth. ‘Well, that’s it! That’s the end! Absolutely the end. Now go away — go away and don’t ever try to see me again.’
She turned and began to give instructions to a porter who had appeared from the hotel. Packer slammed the Fiat boot shut and stood for a moment watching Sarah’s trim little figure walking into the porch of the Chesa, her head high and her Gucci bag swinging at her side. Then he got back into the car.
He drove almost without seeing, without swerving, relying on his horn and his headlamps. The crowds scattered, leaping out of his way and howling abuse after him. He parked outside the Vereina and stumbled back towards the bar.
There was a man on the stool where Sarah had been sitting. Packer stood at the bar without looking at him. The voices all round him were thumping at his head, so that he had to lean forward and put his hands over his ears to prevent himself from screaming.
A hand closed round his wrist and pulled his arm down. ‘Hello, soldier. You look all in.’
CHAPTER 22
‘She’d got her claws well into you, hadn’t she? You poor bastard.’
‘I loved her,’ Packer said, in a cold dead voice.
‘You’re well out of it,
