‘It won’t be easy,’ Fantani was under no delusions. ‘But there’s a lot here. When do you want me to do it?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
There was an almost imperceptible intake of breath. Then Fantani grinned in agreement. Solomatin remembered the way Leonov had looked at the man in the cafe and felt a sudden surge of pity. It was brief but it annoyed him; there wasn’t any place for stupidity like that.
It was past midnight before Solomatin returned to his own apartment on the Via Mecanate. He put on the lights in a prepared sequence and sat down to wait. Leonov arrived after thirty minutes.
‘Tomorrow night?’ asked Leonov.
‘Yes.’
‘Sure he can do it?’
‘We’ve tested him on four other burglaries; he’s good.’
‘He’s flashy,’ said Leonov. ‘Is he homosexual?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Don’t like homosexuals,’ said Leonov.
From their protracted observation, the Russians knew Charlie Muffin lived alone and there was no danger of sudden discovery. Nevertheless they were careful breaking into the Battersea flat, positioning lookouts in the corridor as well as the entrance to the block. Three men actually entered the apartment. Together with material that had been sent from Moscow, they carried an extensive range of workmen’s tools; one had a small, battery-operated vacuum cleaner, to take the mess away with them afterwards. When they left, they removed the listening device that had been implanted in the telephone.
11
The table in the dressing room was set with a damask cloth and laid with glasses, ice bucket, bottles and water jug. It was within reaching distance of the chaise longue upon which Lady Billington lay, goblet in hand. ‘Pell and Mell didn’t like it,’ she said.
‘What?’ said Charlie.
‘The cats. They spend all their time with me. They’re locked up with Jane and they don’t like it.’
Charlie didn’t imagine that Jane Williams would like it much either. He carried his drink to the bureau. He knelt before it, released the securing bolt and eased sideways the left-hand pedestal leg. The face of the floor-mounted safe was about two feet in diameter, the combination dial snug in the centre.
‘Hector used to suffer from allergies,’ said Lady Billington. ‘Took a course of injections for it once.’
‘I tried,’ said Charlie. ‘It didn’t work. Have I your permission to open the safe?’
‘Do you need it?’
‘It seems so.’
‘Go ahead.’
Charlie huddled over the insurance guide to the safe combination, turning the numerals into position. At the final click he didn’t lift the lid at once, but felt carefully beneath. ‘There isn’t a breaker alarm,’ he said.
Lady Billington was leaning forwards towards the table. ‘Should there be?’
‘It’s not listed,’ admitted Charlie. ‘But I would have expected one.’
‘Better ask Hector,’ she said. ‘How’s your drink?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
Charlie lifted the covering upon a miniature cavern carved out below. The cleverness of the concealment denied the normal facilities of shelves and the boxes were stacked one on top of the other. Charlie lifted them out, first to the mouth of the safe and then across the room to arrange before Lady Billington. Automatically he separated the newer-looking containers from the old. Seeing the division she said, ‘There’s a lot of heirlooms.’
‘I’ve read the policy,’ said Charlie.
‘Don’t wear the old stuff much,’ she confessed. ‘Most of it is too big. I feel like a shire horse decorated for the country fair.’
‘It’s an awful lot of brass,’ said Charlie, flattening the noun for the north-country meaning. She laughed.
It was a dazzling kaleidoscope of wealth, the red of rubies and iced white of diamonds, the dull white of pearls and the greens and blues of emeralds and sapphires. Briefly he was reminded of the bridge lights over the Thames on those stumbling nights towards Battersea.
‘Better have a drink before we start,’ suggested Lady Billington.
‘Why not?’ said Charlie. It didn’t seem he was alone in drinking when he was bored. Her appearance wasn’t affected yet; perhaps it had only just started.
‘Will I have to do this every year?’ The hiss was more obvious when she spoke.
‘Probably,’ said Charlie.
‘How do you want to do it?’
‘As it comes, I suppose.’
‘Cheers,’ she said.
‘Cheers.’
Charlie might once have argued it impossible for it to be tedious physically to handle one and a half million pounds’ worth of jewellery, but it was. He had to locate on his list whatever Lady Billington produced to compare with the accompanying photograph and description, check the setting and stone content and then restore it to the safe to avoid confusion with what remained. Quickly all awareness of what he was touching disappeared. Cosmetic surgeons doing breast operations probably felt the same way.
Lady Billington treated the business with the same casual detachment. After an hour she said, ‘When Hector said this was legally necessary I thought it was a good idea. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘It’s best to be careful,’ said Charlie. She stretched her legs out along the chaise longue, so he eased himself onto the dressing-table stool, flexing the cramp from his legs. Pieces of fluff from the carpet speckled his trousers.
‘Quite frankly I couldn’t give a damn,’ she said. ‘Surprised?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘Right that you should be,’ she said. ‘Just as I should be surprised at the poor little rich girl feeling.’
The confessional of gin, thought Charlie. It was tenuous but Charlie decided there was a similarity between this woman and the one he had left in bed at the hotel. Lady Billington sought her escape in a bottle and Clarissa in bed. He felt a twitch of anger towards both of them.
Lady Billington stirred a box with her feet; a rope of pearls, Charlie knew.
‘Know what I think sometimes when I’m putting these things on?’
‘What?’
‘How many empty bellies they could fill.’
She was draining bottles and putting messages inside, he thought. ‘Why don’t you give them away then? Save this sort of thing every year.’
She smiled wearily. ‘All the old stuff is in family trust anyway,’ she said. ‘And there is already a charity established: something to do with bringing Africans to England to train them to be agronomists. My father set it up.’
‘Aren’t there organizations you could become involved with?’
‘International committees flying first class to New York or Geneva and eating six-course banquets and agreeing how beastly it is for people to starve.’
He’d been wrong about Lady Billington. She was a woman brim full of sadness. ‘It’s an uneven world,’ agreed Charlie.
‘That’s trite,’ she said.
‘But true.’
Lady Billington added unsteadily to her glass, spilling some onto the cloth so that a damp grey stain spread across it. ‘“From each according to his abilities… to each according to his needs,”’ she quoted indistinctly.
‘Is that the Karl Marx original or the Oxford Book of Quotations ?’
‘Political science. Girton. A poor Second.’
Charlie indicated the boxes and then spread his hands to include the villa. ‘Do you need all this?’
‘Truth is I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘Couldn’t give a damn about the jewellery. But I don’t think I want to get rid of everything…’ She smiled wearily again. ‘Am I making sense?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘I shouldn’t drink so much.’
‘It’s an easy habit to get into,’ said Charlie with feeling. ‘Shouldn’t we get on?’
‘How’s your drink?’
‘All right, thank you.’
‘Don’t suppose I should,’ she said reluctantly.
It took a further hour to complete the jewellery inventory. They finished with Lady Billington’s engagement ring, which was the only piece she hadn’t returned to the safe in preparation for his visit.