'All right, you have it your way,' said Starata. He blew a smoke ring. 'Let's agree that I know when I'm licked. On the other hand, I might be one of those people who are never licked. You know, the guy's dead but he won't lay down. Get it?'

  'I've got it,' said Callaghan. 'All right. You're dead but you won't lie down. Well, what am I supposed to do?'

  Starata said: 'Why don't you be sensible about this? Why do you have to be so damned unpleasant?'

  'I wouldn't know,' said Callaghan. 'Possibly I might get a kick out of it.'

  Starata said: 'Let's get down to hard tacks. I got a feeling that that heel Lagos is a canary.'

  'Right,' said Callaghan. 'He's sung. He's made a statement. So then what?'

  Starata said: 'I'd like to stop things where they are. If that statement gets to the Public Prosecutor's Office, I'm for the high jump.' He smiled at Callaghan. 'You see, I've got no false ideas about the way I'm placed,' he said.

  Callaghan said: 'I see. So I'm to stop the Lagos statement going to the Public Prosecutor's Office, am I?'

  'Wait a minute,' said Starata. 'Don't be in such a hurry.' He stubbed out his cigarette, took out his case, and lit a fresh one. He said: 'You work for the Sphere & International, don't you?'

  Callaghan said: 'I'm retained by the Sphere & International. I work for any Insurance Society that wants me. 'I've specialised in that sort of business.'

  Starata said: 'I know. I've heard plenty about you. You're pretty good at your job.' He sighed. 'Too good!'

  Callaghan grinned.

  'Thanks,' he said. 'That from you is a compliment.'

  There was a pause; then Starata said amiably:

  'Look, what do the Sphere & International pay you, or is that a rude question?'

  Callaghan said: 'No, it's not rude. They paid me a thousand a year up to a few months ago; then they doubled my retainer.'

  'I know,' said Starata. 'That was after the Vendayne case. So they pay you two thousand now?'

  'That's right,' said Callaghan. 'Don't you think it's enough?'

  Starata shook his head.

  'What's the good of forty pounds a week for a guy like you?' he said. 'Be your age! Now, look... I've got a proposition. I'm in bad and I know it. There's only one person can help me. That's you. All right. Well, I'm not mean. I want to get you on my side. So, as far as I'm concerned, the sky's the limit.'

  Callaghan said amiably: 'I like that. I could do with a little loose change.'

  Starata threw his unfinished cigarette across the intervening tables into the fire. He leaned forward.

  He said: 'Listen, Callaghan... If the Public Prosecutor goes for me over that warehouse fire, what do I get?'

  'Seven years,' said Callaghan evenly. 'Maybe ten... but I'd say seven. If you were very lucky it might be five.'

  Starata nodded. He said: 'No... I think seven would be the stretch.'

  Callaghan smiled.

  'All right,' he said. 'We agree on seven.'

  'Seven years in the can wouldn't amuse me a bit,' said Starata. 'It'd cramp my style. By the time I came out, even if I got remission for good conduct, I'd be too bored to want to do anything.'

  'That's right,' said Callaghan. 'And the strawberry blonde of yours would have forgotten you too.'

  Starata nodded. He showed his teeth in a quick smile.

  'That strawberry blonde and a lot of other blondes too,' he said. 'I wouldn't like that.'

  Callaghan said: 'What's the proposition?'

  'The proposition is this...' said Starata. 'I take it you've got the statement from Lagos?'

  'I wouldn't go so far as to say that,' said Callaghan. 'The statement is in existence and it's in a safe place. But you can take it we've got it. Lagos has sung the whole piece.'

  'All right,' said Starata. 'Well, if that statement disappeared, and if Willie Lagos disappeared too so that it wouldn't matter about his squealing, the Sphere & International would pay, wouldn't they?'

  Callaghan nodded.

  'That's right,' he said. 'Beyond the Lagos evidence the claim looks all right. It was nicely done.'

  Starata said: 'That means the Sphere & International would pay out on that warehouse nearly a quarter of a million.' He leaned across the table. The light from the shaded table lamp reflected on his diamond cuff buttons. 'You play this the way I want to,' he said, 'and you're on a hundred thousand pounds.' He paused. 'That's money, isn't it?' he said. 'You can have fifty thousand pounds within a few days and the balance when the Sphere & International pay out on that claim. Well, does that sound like sense to you?'

  Callaghan got up. He said:

  'No soap. I just wanted to hear what you were prepared to offer.' He smiled. 'You're going to do the seven years, Starata,' he said. 'It'll probably do you a lot of good.'

  Starata shrugged his shoulders.

  'Well,' he said, 'if that's the way it is, that's the way it is.' He finished his drink.

  They walked back into the hallway. When they got to the garage, Starata said:

  'I suppose there's no chance of you reconsidering this?'

  Callaghan said: 'Not a hope. Let's say I'm old-fashioned.'

  'That's a pity,' said Starata. He opened the door of his car; then looked over Callaghan's shoulder and smiled suddenly. He said: 'Well... that's funny...'

  As Callaghan turned his head Starata kicked him in the stomach. Callaghan crumpled and fell to the ground in a heap. He lay there retching.

  A man who had just come through the gates walked slowly towards them. Starata said:

  'Leon, take the mug into the garage. Fix him so that he doesn't bother me for a bit.'

  Leon nodded. He shifted his cigarette to the other side of his mouth. Starata got into the car.

  Leon said: 'Wait for me outside. Something funny happened. It'll make you laugh.'

  'O.K.,' said Starata. He let in the clutch and drove on to the dirt road.

  Leon bent down and put his hand inside Callaghan's shirt collar. He began to drag him towards the garage. Callaghan, holding his stomach with one hand, hit Leon with the other.

  There was no strength in his blow.

  Leon said: 'Just a minute, smarty, an' then I'll fix you. Just now you couldn't hurt a baby.'

  He propped him against the wall at the far end of the garage. 'The trouble with you is you're too smart,' he said pleasantly. 'One of these fine days you're going to catch up with yourself.'

  Callaghan tried to get up. He got as far as his knees and fell back. His head hit the wall behind him with a thud. He began to be sick.

  Leon said: 'You take it easy for a bit. Just try minding your own business, pal... just for a little while... see?'

  Callaghan put his hands on the floor and tried again. Leon stepped back, measured his distance carefully, kicked hard. When his shoe hit Callaghan's side it made an unpleasant thud. He bent down, pulled at the collar of the inert form on the floor, raised the head and smacked it back against the wall.

  He stood away and lit a cigarette. Then he went out of the garage. He walked slowly over to the car. He said to Starata:

  'I took care of the mug. He's quite happy.'

  Starata looked at him sideways.

  'I bet he is,' he said.

  III.

  It was nearly two o'clock when Callaghan came to, propped himself against the garage wall. He felt as if he had been run over by a lorry.

  He edged along until he came to the corner of the garage. From there, in the darkness, he dragged himself towards the old car he had noticed. He rested his head on the running board and, inch by inch, stretched himself out straight.

  He rested for a while, then drew out his cigarette-case and lighter. He lay in the darkness smoking.

  He was thinking about Manon Gardell; wondering just what she would have to say when she decided to say it. He thought about her for some time. Then he thought about Starata.

  Nicky was being very brave, thought Callaghan. Damned brave. He'd pulled something tough at a time when there wasn't any getaway because there was no place to make a getaway to. But what else could he do?

  Callaghan began to blow smoke rings. Quite obviously, Starata was taking no chances. He knew that the Lagos statement would finish him and he was prepared to go the whole hog. And what was he going to pull now? In any event, it ought to be interesting.

  He began to get up. It took him a long time. When he got on to his feet he discovered that he could not stand up straight. But he could walk. Holding his stomach with one hand, he snapped on his cigarette lighter and fumbled his way out of the garage. Outside, he rested a while, leaning against the outer wall.

  After a bit he began to move towards the entrance of the inn. It took him a long time to make it. When he eventually arrived he leaned against the doorpost and kept his finger on the bell-push.

  He kept it there for ten minutes.

  Then the door opened. The hall-porter, in trousers and shirt, regarded him curiously.

  'Sorry, sir,' he said. 'You can't come in now. We're closed and we don't take residents.'

  Callaghan said: 'You don't say?'

  He pitched forward, cannoned off the hall-porter, fell into the hallway.

  III. -- STRAWBERRY BLONDE

  I.

  It was four o'clock when Nikolls went into the office. He stood just inside the doorway, a look of mild surprise on his face. He said:

  'Jeez! They had a sweet game around here, those boys!'

  Effie Thompson said: 'Well, it's no good looking at it. What shall I do?'

  Nikolls said: 'Does the boss know about this?'

  'I don't know where he is,' she said. 'I've rung upstairs. He's not there. He telephoned to me last night, but I don't know where from. I tried to check with the Exchange. All I could discover was that it was outside the London area. Shall I telephone to the police?'

  Nikolls began to laugh.

  'Be your age Effie,' he said. 'He'd just love that, wouldn't he? What a line! "Ace Investigator asks police to discover office thieves"...' He sucked at his cigarette. 'He'll be plenty pleased when he knows about this.'

  He went into Callaghan's room. He stood in the doorway, looking about him. The safe let into the wall immediately behind Callaghan's chair had been cleverly blown. Two or three of the cabinets containing files and records had been forced—obviously with a jemmy. Nikolls walked over and examined Callaghan's desk. The one drawer with a lock was open; the papers inside disordered. He looked at the lock. It had not been forced. It had been opened with a key.

  He went back into the outer office. The steel filing cabinets behind Effie Thompson's desk had been jemmied open. Even the lock of the towel cabinet in the corner had been forced.

  Nikolls said: 'Where was that Lagos statement?'

  'In Mr. Callaghan's draw,' said Effie. 'I told him I'd put it there.'

  Nikolls nodded. 'That's what they were after,' he said. 'It's stickin' out a foot this is Mister Starata. That boy's a pip, ain't he? Nothin' stops him.'

  She said: 'Wait till Mr. Callaghan hears about this.' She smiled. 'I wouldn't like to be Mr Starata... !'

  Nikolls said: 'Maybe. But he's winnin' this hand, ain't he. That Lagos statement ain't goin' to be the only thing that's gone. Willie Lagos will have gone too.' He stubbed out his cigarette, lit a fresh one. 'That's not so good,' he said.

  Effie said: 'So there's nothing to be done?'

  'Not that I know of,' said Nikolls. 'You'd better get the place straightened up.'

  He went into Callaghan's office, sat down behind the desk. After a moment he put his feet up on the desk, tilted his hat over his eyes, folded his hands across his ample stomach, went to sleep.

  II.

  The afternoon sun illuminated the chintz curtains in Callaghan's room at the Blue Cloud Inn. The doctor, busy repacking his bag in the corner of the room, looked over his shoulder. He said:

  'It can be serious. The stomach muscles and the kidneys are badly bruised. You'll have to keep quiet for a week. Keep to the treatment I've ordered and don't get up. You ought to be fairly well then. But you've got to rest.'

  He picked up his hat.

  'Good-afternoon,' he said. 'I'll look in and see you again in a day or two.'

  Callaghan said good-afternoon. When the doctor had gone he rang the bell by his bedside. A moment or two later there was a knock at the door. It was the hall-porter.

  Callaghan said: 'If you feel in the right-hand pocket of my waistcoat you'll find some pound notes. Take two of them. One's for you and the other's for a bottle or half a bottle of whisky. Don't tell me you haven't got any because you never know what you can do till you try.'

  The man grinned and went out. Five minutes later he came back with a tray. On the tray were a bottle of Johnnie Walker, a siphon and a glass. He put the tray down; went away.

  Callaghan swung his legs out of bed. He put his feet on the floor gingerly; then he sat there feeling the bandages that strapped up his side and stomach. A sharp pain shot from his abdomen up to his stomach. He felt terribly sick, put out his hand to steady himself. He sunk his head between his knees as another wave of nausea swept through him. He stayed in that position for a little while... talking softly to himself... telling himself just what he was going to do to Starata and Leon one day... especially Leon.

  After a minute or two he tried standing up—walking. He found he could manage it. He uncorked the bottle of whisky, put the neck in his mouth, took a generous swig. Then he walked round the room. He repeated the process two or three times, discovering that the more whisky you drank, the more easily you could walk.

  He looked at his wrist-watch. It was four-thirty. He found his cigarette-case and lighter, sat on the edge of the bed, lit a cigarette. He sat there for five minutes, blowing smoke rings. Then he picked up the telephone, rang the office. Effie Thompson answered. She said:

  'I'm glad you've come through. The offices were broken into last night. The place is in a terrible state. I'm just trying to clear things up.'

  Callaghan asked: 'Is Nikolls there? If he is, put him on.'

  Nikolls came on the line. Callaghan said:

  'Windy, what's going on there?'

  Nikolls yawned.

  'Starata's goin' on, I think,' he said. 'Somebody came here pretty early this mornin' an' gave the offices the once-over. They knew what they were lookin' for too.'

  Callaghan said: 'The Lagos statement...?'

  'That's right,' said Nikolls. 'The rest of the job was a frame. The guy who came in here knew what he was lookin' for and knew where he was goin' to find it. They jemmied open the filin' cabinets in Effie's room, blew the lock out of your wall safe—looks like nitro-glycerine. But the drawer in your desk where Effie had put the Lagos statement was opened with a key—a spider, I should think. Do we do anything?'

  Callaghan said: 'No! Let it ride.'

  Nikolls yawned again. He said:

  'These guys took a bit of a chance. Somebody phoned through to Wilkie, got him out around the block on a fake excuse. They musta got in while he was round there. But they still took a chance. If you'd been upstairs you'd have heard 'em maybe.'

  Callaghan grinned.

  'They knew I wasn't upstairs,' he said. 'Starata took care of me personally last night.'

  'No?' said Nikolls. 'You don't say? Anything serious?'

  'Nothing much,' said Callaghan. 'They just pushed me around a little...'

  'I bet they did,' said Nikolls. 'Those boys don't sorta like you, do they? Did they break anythin'?'

  Callaghan said: 'No... nothing broken. They kicked me in the stomach and kidneys a little, that's all.'

  Nikolls said: 'Oh, that ain't really anythin' much, is it? But it's sorta inconvenient. Did I tell you about that baby who kicked me while I was asleep in Palm Springs?'

  'You did,' said Callaghan. 'The one who had spurs on when she did it... I remember.'

  Nikolls said: 'O.K.... O.K.... Are you comin' back here?'

  Callaghan said: 'Yes... probably. Maybe to-night or to-morrow morning. In the meantime do a little leg work. Starata had a place at 22 Chapel Street. He used to keep his latest girl friend there—a strawberry blonde. Have a look round there and see what you can get. Find out who the strawberry blonde is and where she's gone to if she's moved. You'll probably find that place is closed down.'

  'O.K.,' said Nikolls. 'Anything else?'

  'Yes,' said Callaghan. 'I want to know who Admiral Gardell's lawyer was. Possibly you can find out in London. Try anyhow, and if you can't, call through to Miss Desirée Gardell at Chipley Grange and ask her.'

  'O.K.,' said Nikolls.

  He hung up. He went into the outer office. He said to Effie:

  'Desiray's a nice name. Effie. What does it mean?'

  She looked interested. She said:

  'Desirée... it means desired, I suppose. Why?'

  'Oh, nothin',' said Nikolls. 'We got a client named Desiray now, that's all.'

  'Have we?' said Effie. 'Well, what am I supposed to do about it?'

  'Nothin',' said Nikolls with a grin. 'There ain't anything you can do, is there?' But it's a goddam pretty name. It sorta inspires me. I could write a hot number about a dame with a name like that. Look! I got an idea for it already...'

  An expression of pain—intended to denote deep concentration—appeared on Nikolls's face. He began to sing:

  'Oh, honey dame, you lit a flame, You got me all excited with your name...

  That's the beginnin' of the verse,' continued Nikolls, 'an' the chorus is gonna start:

  'Oh, Desiray, Desiray, You're the baby for a tumble in the hay...'

  Effie said: 'Mr. Nikolls, you're fearfully common, aren't you? Haven't you any ideals at all?'

  'Yeah,' said Nikolls 'I'm practically all ideals. I got so many they run outa my ears on cold mornin's. Me... I'm a child of the people...'

  'Really,' said Effie. Her voice was a little supercilious. 'In a moment you'll tell me you're the rough-and-ready type...'

  'You got it, Effie,' said Nikolls archly. 'Any time you wanna get rough—I'm ready!'

  Effie said: 'I think you're fearful. Don't you ever think of anything worth while. Haven't you any desire for Culture?'

 

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