“If that’s the way you want it.”
“That,” he said, “is the way I want it. And may I say that, whatever amount you charge, I shall add a bonus to it.”
“Do that,” I said, moving towards the door. “And perhaps you’ll tell your chauffeur to drive me into Innsbruck. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”
I went up to my room and kicked the mat across the floor. I had to kick something. All right, so they were going to take over and work on their own. They had every right. I had been hired and now I was fired. But I couldn’t be fired from the way I felt about Katerina.
There was a knock on the door and Vérité came in.
I said, “If you’ve come to help me pack, I can manage. But I’d like about fifty quid in Austrian money. You can knock it off my account when it comes in.”
She came over, lifted my case on to the bed, and began to pack.
She said, “I understand how you feel.”
I said, “Do you?”
She nodded. “Of course. If I could help you, I would. I want only good things for you. Even her – if that is what you want.”
I went to her and put my hands on her shoulders, looking into her large dark eyes, and then I leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
“There’s nothing you can do. The wheel started spinning some time ago. I’ve just got to wait and see where the ball finishes.”
“I know. And when it comes to that moment you can always find me if you want to.”
“If I’m still walking after the big bang, I might hold you to that.” I didn’t know the hidden truth in those words then. I went on, “Who is the old boy with the tin leg?”
“A business associate of Herr Malacod’s.”
“Jew?”
“Yes.”
“How come the leg?”
“It was amputated in a concentration camp.”
At that moment the telephone bell rang. I picked it up and a voice said, “Ringmaster?”
“Yes?”
The voice went on, plummy, as though, whoever it was, was finishing off a soft-centred chocolate. “Innsbruck Railway Station. 21.00 hours today.”
“Okay,” I said, and rang off.
Vérité looked at me and I said, “My bookmaker. He’s tracked me down at last. You won’t forget about the money, will you?”
I could see her fighting not to say anything. Then she turned and went from the room.
My packing finished, I went down to the hallway. Stebelson was there by himself and he walked out on to the front steps with me, where we waited for the Rolls to come round.
Because I was feeling that way, I said, “Care to listen to a little theory I’ve got?”
He said, “No.”
I said, “Good. That makes me even happier to lay it out for you. You got Katerina into this racket, whatever it is. Not because you wanted to do anything for Malacod. But because you hoped somewhere along the line to do something for yourself. Maybe, like me, you don’t like being a hired hand. But it isn’t going to work. You picked the wrong girl, and you know it. Like you, at the start, I thought there might be a big picking somewhere, but this thing is out of our class. Take my advice – if you can see it, settle for a small, quick profit now and get out.”
To my surprise, he smiled and said affably, “Perhaps I shall take your advice. Katerina is definitely unreliable. I had thought she would not be. But I had a letter from her which makes it very clear.”
“You had a letter?”
“From Venice. It is the first time I have heard from her since she left Paris.”
“I could go and tell Malacod this.”
“I should deny it and say it was just a ruse for you to stay in the job. And, anyway, I don’t think you want to stay now. You have other plans. If you remember, I once advised you against falling in love with Katerina. Here is the car.”
The Rolls drew up smoothly below and the chauffeur got out to open the door for me.
I went down, watched by Herr Stebelson, who lifted a plump hand in farewell. Behind him in the doorway of the hall I saw Vérité standing. She half raised a hand to me and then turned away.
I was matey and sat up with the chauffeur. We made Innsbruck in well under the hour.
It was just after six, so I went and had a drink and an early dinner.
Over dinner I read a note which the chauffeur had handed to me from Vérité when he had dropped me.
“Madame Latour-Mesmin,” he had said, “asked me to give this to you.”
The note read:
Darling,
I know that you are going to be foolish. Nothing I can say or do can stop that. I know this better than most people could. Please try and look after yourself. All the love I have is waiting for you whenever you want it.
To save you the trouble of looking it up, which I know you would soon, the Zafersee is not far from the Achen Pass, on the German side of the border. Love. V.
She was quite right. She had saved me the trouble of looking it up.
I was picked up at nine o’clock by a young man in a sports jacket and tightly-cut twill trousers. He had a sandy moustache, wore a Tyrolean hat with a feather in it, and he was driving an old Mercedes which, as we moved off, showed quite clearly that no matter how shabby the coachwork was the engine had had constant and loving care.
He was English and chatted away quite affably about nothing at all. I let him ramble on.
We went over the frontier into Germany at Scharnitz and headed north along the Munich road. After five or six miles he turned right handed off the main road along a side road. Now and again through the trees I caught a glimpse of lake
