Hinge stopped and jumped out of his car.
Eliza ran along the beach until her breath was gone and her legs ached and finally she fell on her hands and knees in the sand. She turned quickly and looked back expecting to see Hinge. But the beach stretched behind her, gray in the moonlight and empty.
She looked all around.
Nothing.
Overhead, ominous clouds were beginning to chase the moon and lightning glittered near the horizon.
Great. Now it’s going to start raining.
She sat for a few moments to catch her breath, then walked up to the line of trees that ran adjacent to the water’s edge, and using them for protection, started cautiously back toward her
But Hinge had opted not to go after the girl. There was no time for that. He watched her run frantically into the darkness and he thought, Who is she? What in hell is her problem? Is there something about this I don’t know? Or is she just some flake?
He stopped beside her car and looked inside. In the glove compartment he found the rental agreement.
Eliza Gunn. Staying at the Half Moon Bay Club, cottage 16.
He put the contract back and slammed the glove compartment shut.
Smiling, he returned to his car and drove off. He had other things to do. There would be time to handle the girl when he was finished with Lavander.
When Eliza reached the street, it was empty. No sign of the red Datsun. She hesitated for several minutes, hiding in the darkness of the shrubs and trees near the road, building up her nerve before she ran across the street and jumped in the car.
She felt lucky as she started the car and drove back to the hotel. She had not talked to either O’Hara or the Magician all day. Perhaps, she thought, they had intercepted Lavander and everything was all right.
12
It was dark when Lavander strolled into Trelawney Square but it might have been the middle of the day. The shops were all open and there was a carnival atmosphere about the place.
He found himself opposite the pastry shop and stepped into a gift shop. Walking to the back, he picked over some things while watching the square. Then he went through the back door and walked around the block, staying in the shadows, and appraised the street.
Derek Frazer, the man who had been described to him over the phone, was sitting near the window of the Nelson Pastry Shoppe. Lavander concentrated on him for a while. Frazer had the kind of sharp features some women consider handsome. Lavander knew the type. A typical corporate flunky dressed by Brooks Brothers, with an innocuous title, vice president in charge of something or other, some catchall term to cover a variety of sins.
Frazer was sipping his coffee and reading the wretched Kingston Journal.
Well, that wouldn’t take him long. Lavander chuckled to himself. He was sure nobody was following him.
Lavander was right: Hinge did not have to follow him. All Hinge had to do was watch Frazer. It was an old but effective trick, shopping the contact instead of the mark, one that would never have occurred to an amateur like Lavander.
Frazer had spotted the consultant the minute Lavander entered the square, watching him benignly from over the top of the newspaper as the little man played out his odd melodrama. Frazer assumed that the assassin was also watching.
Lavander finally crossed the street and entered the pastry shop. Frazer looked up, smiled, raised a finger and his eyebrows, and stood as Lavander walked to the table, offering his hand. He almost crushed several of Lavander’s fingers. He’s taken the executive-handshake course, I see, Lavander said to himself.
‘Hi, I’m Derek Frazer.’
How jaunty, the little man thought. ‘Lavander, here.’
‘Well, this is quite an honour, quite an honour indeed. It isn’t every day one meets a living legend.’
His voice, cultured early in some executive-training program to be flat, authoritative and intimidating, was oddly patronizing toward Lavander. The Britisher found both Frazer’s attitude and his looks manufactured and offensive.
Lavander shrugged. ‘Yes, there aren’t that many of us about.’
Frazer thought, An egomaniac. An absolute, flying, whacked-out egomaniac.
‘What would you like?’ Frazer asked, motioning to the waitress.
Strong tea and something sweet. A napoleon, I think.’ The waitress nodded and left.
Frazer smiled and rubbed his palms together. ‘Well, sir, we
uh, first of all, we are indebted to you for taking. . time out of your vacation to talk with us.’
‘You use the collective pronoun, Mr Frazer. Is someone joining us?’
Frazer smiled indulgently. ‘Of course, I’m speaking for my company. I’m sure you know us. AMRAN. Kind of the. . . uh, the new kids on the block, see what I mean?’
No doubt about it, Lavander thought, I don’t like this Frazer chap at all. They’ve sent a shill to do a man’s job, and that offends me more than anything. But business was business, so Lavander would hear what he had to say. ‘Yes, yes, I know all about AMRAN,’ he said impatiently.
‘And I assume the deposit to your bank was verified.’
‘I’m here, am I not?’
‘Quite! Well, then, at least we don’t need to be concerned about credentials for my company. That saves us some time, see what I mean?’
‘I have plenty of time,’ Lavander said nonchalantly. The waitress brought his pastry and tea. When she left, Lavander looked across the table at Frazer, his bulging eyes twinkling in anticipation of the conversation. ‘Now, what is it you want?’ he asked.
‘We’re new, as I said. We don’t pretend to know all the answers, but we know you know a lot of them. We’re interested in a consulting situation.’
‘You have serious problems already,’ said Lavander, sipping his tea noisily.
‘1 beg your pardon?’
‘Among AMRAN’s less fortunate decisions was the inclusion of the Hensell Oil Company in your consortium, sir. You have acquired a bankrupt partner.’ He raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Frazer. ‘Hmmm?’
‘We... uh, I assume this conversation is confidential.’
‘Really!’
‘Sorry,’ Frazer said quickly. ‘Point is, sir, we need their outlets. They’re in thirty-seven states. Twelve pumpers, see what I mean?’
‘Actually forty-two states, under three different corporate names. You could have waited another three months and had Hensell for ten cents on the dollar.’ Lavander waved his hand disdainfully, like a king dismissing a pauper.
‘It was cheaper than making a giant investment, particularly at a time when things are a bit—’
‘You haven’t studied your figures. You have yourself a problem company as an equal partner at a time when the market is unstable.’
‘We’d have lost them. Somebody else would have snapped them up.’
‘Not as an equal partner. Subsidiary, perhaps.’
Frazer leaned back. ‘There’s also the matter of oil properties, specifically Hensell’s holdings.’
‘What have you allocated for deve1opment?’
Frazer hesitated. He seemed to be considering whether to answer the question or not.
Lavander laughed. ‘Would you like me to tell you, hmmm?’
‘Three hundred million,’ Frazer said in almost a whisper.
‘Another questionable move. Over half of those holdings are in the Montana Strip. The field is erratic, sir. I know it well. Over a million acres and there are no patterns. You’ll drill a dozen dry holes for every strike, and the yield is going to be low in the bargain. I would guess no more than.., twenty to twenty-two barrels a day per well.’ He shook his head. ‘You’d be better off spending the development money in Alaska or the North Sea.’
‘Too crowded,’ Frazer said. ‘Our other companies have resources—’
Lavander cut him off again. ‘Of course, your other four companies are healthy. American Petroleum will be showing a five hundred and fifty percent profit increase over last year. Sunset Oil will be up at least four hundred percent. Very nice. Very nice that the Americans are such sheep. They’ll pay through the nose for a while. Question is, how long will they put up with it?’