“There’s a possibility that it was heading for London Airport,” Roger went on. “Check that first Check what aircraft left London Airport after three o’clock, and find out whether a ten-year-old boy was on board any of them.”
“Heading where?”
“America, probably, but that’s a guess. Even if you don’t get a line at London, try Gatwick and the smaller airfields. Give this absolute priority.”
“Right I What does the boy look like?”
“I haven’t a description yet, but probably small for his age. And Bill, if you get anything, call me at the American Embassy. Ask for Mr Marino, and if I’m not with him, I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”
“What
“When I know I’ll tell you,” Roger said.”
“Bye.”
Lissa had a half-smoked Pall Mall between her lips, and as Roger opened his case, she leaned forward with a lighter. She looked at him above the flame, and it went out as he saw the smile in her eyes.
“So you think he’s been flown back home.”
“It could be.”
“How is that machine you call a mind working?”
“You want David Shawn in England on a special assignment, on work he can’t do in the States. His wife wants to be there anyhow, and he doesn’t want an estrangement with his wife. So already he has plenty of reason for thinking that he would be happier back home. If some third party wants to stop him working, and that’s what you and Marino have implied, a good way of doing this would be to tell him that his son is safe in the States. That would be one means of stopping him staying in England.” Roger glanced at his watch. “Now it’s nearly one o’clock. If we really want to work fast, we ought to telephone Kennedy Airport, and find out whether a boy passenger reaches there from England. It’s about a twelve-hour flight, they couldn’t have left before three o’clock, so we’ve an hour or so in hand. Care to telephone Marino?”
“You call him,” Lissa said.
“Will he be at lunch?”
“He doesn’t go out to lunch, he has a sandwich in the office.”
Marino was a careful listener, and did not ask for anything to be repeated. The name of Ricky Shawn wasn’t mentioned, but Marino promised to call Kennedy Airport at once, and rang off.
“And now what?” Lissa asked; there was a hint of mockery in her voice.
“Do you think the Embassy could find a sandwich for us, too?”
“It could run to a good lunch, after you’ve talked to Tony again, and you and I could discuss the weather.”
“Wonderful idea,” said Roger dryly. “But I’m just a working man, and probably there was some other crime in London last night. Another time.”
“There may not be another time. If David goes back to New York, I shall be sent after him.”
“If he’s so important, you can find a way to stop him,” Roger said. “At least until there’s time to look for his son. If you keep Shawn and his wife apart, it might help. Deal with them singly.” He laughed, as a kind of foreboding swept over him, but he didn’t try to put it into words. “I always talked too much.”
He stood up, and they went downstairs, out into the heat of this fierce September day, and drove fast to Grosvenor Square.
Lissa led the way into Marino’s office, where Marino still sat at his huge desk, as if he hadn’t moved since they had left. But his smile had none of the easy amiability of the morning; it was tense enough to make Lissa stand still, halfway across the room.
“What’s happened?” she demanded.
Marino said: “Sit down, Superintendent. If you’d been sitting here when it first started, instead of me, maybe we would have found Ricky by now. I don’t understand why I didn’t guess they would ship him back to the States by air. I can’t think why you didn’t, Lissa. Ricky was on a “plane which left London Airport at three-fifteen this morning. But he didn’t go on to New York, he was taken off at Ganda. He could be anywhere in Canada by now. He could be anywhere,” he repeated. “I’ve got the FBI chasing for news of him, but you know how difficult it will be to find him in Canada or the States. We’ve lost that boy, and we could have saved him. The only hope of quick results is from this end. Can you act as fast as you can think, Superintendent?”
“Let me talk to the Yard,” Roger said.
6
OWNER OF AN AUSTIN
Sloan had already found that a boy, the only child on the TSR 10, had left London in the company of a middle-aged man who had an American passport in the name of McMahon; the boy had travelled with a passport under the name of Sims. The child had seemed sleepy, McMahon had fussed him a great deal, no one had suspected there was anything wrong. Descriptions of McMahon varied, but three different reports from the airport had one thing in common. He had a big head: big that was in proportion to his body.
They had arrived at London Airport in an old Buick, the driver had gone off with the car as soon as he had set down his passengers. Sloan was already trying to trace the Buick. The Austin A70 had been traced as far as Hammersmith, and the Hammersmith police were already checking on all A70S garaged in the district.
Roger told Marino and Lissa Meredith this while they were still in Marino’s office.
“You have to find the owner of that car,” Marino said flatly. “West, you don’t know how important that is.”
