“So he could go to Radnitz with the icon, offer it at a cut-throat price and double-cross us?”
Bradey shifted uneasily.
“Well, yes. Duvine would dig up his father’s grave if he thought there was money in the coffin.”
“And Radnitz would deal with him?”
“That sonofabitch would deal with anyone to save a million.”
“My thinking.” Haddon sipped his drink. “Looks as if we have a problem, Lu.”
“We could be jumping to conclusions. Duvine might not guess the icon is in the box.”
“I smell a double-cross,” Haddon said quietly. “If Duvine is as smart as you say, he’ll have guessed right.”
Bradey crossed and recrossed his legs.
“We have time. The Duvines and the Lepskis are now in Paris. They drive to Monte Carlo on 14th. They leave for Montreux on 20th. If Duvine plans to double-cross us, he will wait until Lepski has carried the icon through the Swiss customs. So we have nine days.”
Haddon brooded, staring into space while Bradey sat still. He had tremendous faith in Haddon’s talent for solving problems.
Finally, Haddon said, “The plan is that Duvine switches the boxes at the Montreux Palace hotel, delivers it to you at the Eden hotel, Zurich, and you pay him twenty thousand Swiss francs and his expenses. Kendrick will already be at the Eden. You give him the box, and he takes it to his client, gets paid and gives us our share. That’s the operation as planned. Now, if Duvine plans to double-cross us, when he has switched the boxes, he will drive to Zurich, but not to the Eden hotel. He will go to Radnitz’s villa which I understand is some way out of Zurich on the lake. He will make a deal with Radnitz, get paid and vanish.”
“This is all surmise,” Bradey said, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’ve worked with Duvine for years. I find it hard to believe he would double-cross us.”
“We are going to assume he is going to double-cross us,” Haddon said, his face like stone. “When so much money is involved, I trust no one except you. So we are going to assume Duvine will try to pull a smart one and we must take precautions.”
“What precautions?”
“We will beat him to the punch. He and his party will arrive at the Montreux Palace hotel on 20th. You and your girl friend will arrive on the 18th. You will tell the reception clerk that you will be leaving on the 21st, but you want to reserve a room for a friend who is a friend of the Duvines. You want a room on the same floor and near the Duvines’ reservation. When Duvine arrives, you will give him the duplicate box and tell him you are leaving for the Eden hotel and you will wait for him to deliver the Lepskis’ box. On 21st, you will leave the hotel, making sure Duvine sees you go. You will stop somewhere close to Montreux, send your girl on to Zurich, put on a disguise and return to the Montreux Palace hotel in the name of the friend you have reserved a room for. From then on, you will not let Duvine out of your sight while he is in the hotel. When he has switched the boxes, you will jump him, take the box, pay him off and drive to the Eden hotel. In this way we forestall a double-cross. What do you think?”
Bradey thought, then finally he nodded.
“The idea is sound, but we mustn’t forget, if Duvine is really planning a double-cross, he must already be dreaming of owning at least five million dollars. He could turn rough, and he’s bigger than I am. Suppose he bashes me and bolts? If I had his muscles, that’s what I would do.”
Haddon smiled grimly.
“When you arrive at Geneva, you buy a gun. I will give you the address of a man who will sell you a gun without asking questions.”
Bradey’s eyes popped wide.
“No! I’ve never touched a gun! No violence! That’s strictly out, Ed!”
“This operation involves three million dollars: one for you: two for me,” Haddon said, a snarl in his voice. “The gun needn’t be loaded. If Duvine turns rough, all you have to do is to wave the gun in his face and that’ll quiet him down. There must be no slip-up on this, Lu.” He took from his wallet a card and wrote an address. “Just mention my name. There will be no problem, but get the gun.”
Bradey hesitated, grimaced, then took the card.
“Maybe Duvine isn’t going to double-cross us,” he said without much hope. “Maybe we are making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Haddon picked up the gift-wrapped parcel and placed it on Bradey’s knees.
“I’m going to bed. Don’t worry about mountains. Don’t worry about molehills. Just make sure Kendrick gets the icon and we get our money.”
Leaving Bradey staring uneasily at the gift-wrapped parcel, Haddon walked across the bar and towards the elevators.
Vasili Vrenschov was Herman Radnitz’s Russian contact. He was a squat, heavily built man with balding head and eyes like black beans set in white dough.
He lived in a modest three-room apartment at Sellinburen, just outside Zurich. This apartment was owned by his Swiss mistress, allowing him to live there without tiresome police interference. He spent much of his time commuting to Moscow, and he was highly thought of by the Soviet upper échelon.
This morning, he had received a telephone call from Radnitz who had invited him to lunch at the Villa Helios, one of Radnitz’s many luxury homes, which was situated a few kilometres outside Zurich, set in two acres of ornamental gardens by the lake with its own harbour and motor boats, to say nothing of a luxury yacht on which Radnitz, when in the mood, entertained.
Vasili Vrenschov was always pleased to receive an invitation from Radnitz. He had arranged a number of lucrative deals with Radnitz and the Kremlin, and Radnitz had always paid him a commission which was credited to Vrenschov’s numbered account in the Bank of Zurich: money that the Kremlin knew nothing about.
Leaving his shabby Beetle VW car in the parking bay, Vrenschov mounted the marble steps that led to the impressive portals of the villa. He pressed the doorbell and turned to survey the magnificent flowerbeds and looked enviously at the harbour, the yacht and the view of the lake.
The doors were opened and an elderly butler gave him a little bow.
“Mr Radnitz is expecting you, Mr Vrenschov,” he said. “Please follow me.”
“Good to see you again, Mythen. Tell me, what have you arranged for my lunch?” Vrenschov asked as he removed his hat and walked into the vast hall, decorated with suits of armour and splendid tapestries.
“Whitstable oysters and Scotch grouse, sir,” Mythen said, smiling. He knew what a glutton this Russian was. “The oysters were flown out from England this morning.”
Vrenschov rolled his eyes.
“Splendid! And Mr Radnitz? I trust he is well.”
“He appears to be in excellent health, sir,” Mythen said and led Vrenschov down a long corridor to Radnitz’s study.
Radnitz was seated behind a big, antique desk which was littered with papers. As Vrenschov walked in, he rose to his feet with a wide smile of welcome.
“Good to see you, Vasili,” he said, coming around the desk to shake hands. “Good of you to come at such short notice. Sit down. A little Vodka?”
Vrenschov settled his bulk in a chair near the desk.
“That would be nice, Mr Radnitz. You are too kind.”
Mythen served Vodka in large crystal goblets with crushed ice.
“A cigar?”
“Nothing I would like better.”
Mythen took a cigar from a box on the desk, clipped the end, presented it to Vrenschov, offered a light, then with a bow, he left the room.
“Madame? Is she well?” Radnitz asked, sitting behind his desk.
“Yes, thank you. She finds the Zurich climate not to her taste, but she survives.”
Radnitz paused to light his cigar, then lifting his glass, nodded to Vrenschov who raised his glass, then drank.