‘Yes.’
‘What would you have done if you had known whet I have just told you?’
‘I’d have got out.’
‘Exactly. Lugano also reports that, after you had been identified and photographed at the funeral, police visited the hotel where you had stayed overnight. What had you done, Paul? Registered as Oberholzer?’
‘Of course not. And there was never any chance of their finding me at the hotel. I paid the bill before I went to the funeral. All I lost by not going back there was some dirty laundry.’
‘And the chance of meeting the men who had brought on Kramer’s heart attack, surely. How did they know where to go? A few quick phone calls? Nonsense! Zürich is too big a city for that. How did they know?’
I thought back. ‘The flowers,’ I said slowly; ‘it must have been the flowers.’
‘What flowers?’
I told him the truth. Telling lies to one another was something we had never done.
‘The police must have checked all the cards that came with the flowers,’ he said morosely. ‘When they found yours they checked the shop that had sent them. That must have narrowed their field of search considerably.’
I could have remarked that it had in fact pinpointed the hotel because I told the girl where I was staying when she had asked me; but enough was enough.
‘So,’ he went on, ‘in addition to your photograph they now have a specimen of your handwriting and almost certainly your fingerprints as well. And you object when I use the word trouble? You amaze me. You have become soft through having so much money, Paul, and I fear, something of a liability.’
‘What do you want us to do? Split up?’
‘Obviously you can see the difficulties in that course as well as I can. We both need time to think. Meanwhile, though, you must make yourself scarce. I think you should go to the island for a bit.’
The island he had bought was in the Bahamas. He said his wife loved it, my wife adored it, I loathed it.
‘Anna will like that,’ I said.
‘Your wife will stay where she is,’ he said curtly, ‘where a wife should be, in the home looking after your child while you are away on business.’
‘Very well.’
‘I will come over next week perhaps. Then we can discuss the future, without emotion, like sensible men.’
‘All right.’
It was a month before he turned up. I was being punished. And it was punishment, from the start. You went to New York or Miami and thence to Nassau. Then you took an island-hopping plane almost to Caicos. Finally, you headed back north again in a stinking little tub that did a grocery round of ten or twelve of the ‘Out islands’ delivering mail, gasoline, kerosene and bottled gas along with canned meat, powdered milk, bottled water and other necessities. At one of them, Carlo’s cabin-cruiser picked you up and took you still farther off the map.
Anyone who holds the belief that a West Indies island all to yourself except for some servants, is bliss, has to be crazy about sun-bathing, spear-fishing, underwater photography, or re-reading mite-infested paperbacks. If he does not enjoy any of those things, the boredom is deadly and complete. In November and December on that particular island it usually rains heavily, too.
Carlo’s house was comfortable, I admit; but I had noticed on previous visits that it was still more comfortable when he was there to chivvy the cook and tell her exactly what he wanted done. Even on the day he arrived and was too tired from the journey to do much chivvying, the standard of cooking rose perceptibly. That evening the food was eatable.
Afterwards, he asked me whether I had given any thoughts to my future role in our partnership.
‘My only thought has been that I seem no longer to have a role.’
‘I don’t agree. I have been observing the progress of the trends in tax-avoidance, not evasion mark you, avoidance. A few years ago, when you said that word, certain names came automatically into mind as tax havens. What were they?’
‘Monaco, Liechtenstein, the Channel Islands, Bermuda, Curaçao perhaps, Panama, possibly Switzerland.’
‘And now? What names would you add?’
‘The Bahamas, British Virgin Islands, the Caymans, the New Hebrides, all sort of odd places. You need a geographical dictionary to find some of them.’
‘Yes, and what are we doing about it? Nothing.’
‘What would you like done, Carlo?’
‘I would like a survey made by someone upon whose judgement I can rely. I cannot go myself because there is too much going on in Europe that I must attend to personally — ’ he was at the time preparing the butter-train caper — ‘but you will know what to look for and be able to assess the prospects. We should consider investing where it is necessary to safeguard our position against later competition.’
We discussed it for four days, and then left the island; he to go back to Milan, I to scout the Caribbean before flying west to the Pacific.
I never saw Carlo again.
Krom was fidgeting with the file in his hand and I knew that he couldn’t wait to get at it.
‘I have a suggestion, Professor,’ I said.
He looked at me suspiciously. Was I about to play some last-minute trick?
‘Yes, Mr Firman?’
‘I suggest that we now adjourn this gathering until tomorrow morning. Naturally, when you have read what I have written there, you will have questions to ask arising out of it. Would eight-thirty here be too early for a breakfast meeting?’
I looked at the other two to see how they felt about it, but Krom was not consulting them.
‘I agree,’ he said firmly. ‘Eight-thirty.’ He got to his feet a bit unsteadily, pulled himself together and remembered his manners. ‘I must thank you for an excellent dinner. Good night, Mr Firman.’
Adroit use of the backs of the rest of the terrace chairs enabled him to steer a reasonably straight course into the house. Connell gave me a sly look.
‘What was there about that white wine, Mr Firman?’
‘Nothing, except that it was served too cold.’ I stood up.
They took the hint and also said good night.
Yves and I finished our wine. Melanie said that she was going for a walk.
After ten minutes or so, Yves and I went up to the loft over the garage. There was silence from Krom and Henson; they were reading to themselves. Connell was making sure that his copy of the material was going to remain available for future use by reading it to his tape-recorder. Only an occasional grunt of surprise or doubt showed that this was the first time he had been through it. It was interesting to hear it all being read out — truth, rubbish, and half-truth — all as if it were some sort of Holy Writ.
I was listening, fascinated, when he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He switched off the recorder and went to answer the knock.
Dr Henson’s voice said: ‘Sorry to bother you. I’ve just had this note from Krom shoved under my door. Have you had one?’
‘Wanting a pre-breakfast meeting in his room at seven-thirty? Yes. I’ve had one.’
‘Do we accept?’
‘If our lord and master wants to make sure in advance that he asks all the questions and leads for the prosecution, why not? He’ll take charge anyway.’
‘I suppose so. I heard you talking. What were you doing? Recording it all on that thing?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Since you’ve been allowed to get away with it, how about giving me a copy of the transcript?’
There was a pause, then: ‘Dr Henson, may I call you Geraldine?’
He made it sound like a joke and that was the way she treated it. ‘Don’t be a fool, Connell.’
‘Gerry?’
‘My friends call me Hennie, and I assure you that, as a nickname, it’s quite appropriate. Good night again.’
‘Good night.’ The door closed and he went back to his dictation.