"But suppose he doesn't?" Garry said.
Shalik frowned at him.
"I said I was certain, and that means he will. I don't use words lightly." The snub administered, Shalik went on, "I have no idea where the museum is. I imagine it must be somewhere in the house which is a vast one storey building. As the museum contains many stolen treasures, it will be well hidden and well guarded. One of my agents in Durban, some eight years ago, happened to be watching a ship unload and noticed a considerable number of crates coming ashore with Kahlenberg's name on them. Knowing I was interested in Khalenberg, he investigated. The crates came from Bahlstrom of Sweden who you may know are the best safe makers and security experts in the world." He glanced at Fennel. "Am I telling you anything new?"
Fennel grinned.
"I know all about Bahlstrom. Years ago, I worked for them. They are good."
"Yes, Mr. Fennel," Shalik said. "This is the main reason why I am hiring you." He again touched off his cigar ash and continued, "Fortunately, my agent was intelligent. He obtained a copy of the invoices from the shipping agent at some cost and sent it to me. I give it to you now to examine. It is possible with your knowledge of Bahlstrom's security system and with these invoices, you may get some idea of Kahlenberg's security setup." He handed a plastic envelope to Fennel who glanced at it and then shoved it in his hip pocket. "You have until Monday morning to let me know what you think."
"Okay," Fennel said, crossing one fat leg over the other. "I'll tell you."
Shalik turned to Garry.
"Mr. Edwards, I have aerial maps of the Drakensberg range and of Kahlenberg's estate." Again another plastic envelope passed across the desk. "I will want you to tell me if you can land the helicopter from a place chosen by Mr. Jones on the Kahlenberg airfield. This we will also discuss on Monday."
Garry nodded, taking the envelope.
Shalik now turned to Kennedy Jones.
"You will be responsible for fitting out the expedition and for transport. You and Mr. Fennel will go by road while Miss Desmond and Mr. Edwards fly. You can spend what you like but you must insure against the many difficulties which you could meet on the way in. The route to Kahlenberg's estate is exceptionally difficult at this season when the rains can be expected. But this is your affair. You will also have to find a way through the circle of Zulus who guard the approaches. You are the expert, so I don't propose making any suggestions."
"I'll take care of it," Jones said.
"Well then, we will have our final meeting on Monday," Shalik said. "We will then clear up the final details. Any questions?"
Fennel leaned forward.
"How about some money? We are being paid nine thousand each for this caper, but how about something in advance?"
Shalik made a grimace that could pass for as a smile.
"I was expecting that request from you." He took from a drawer four envelopes and handing One to Gaye, he passed the other three across his desk. "You will find in each envelope blank Travellers Cheques to the total of $3,000. When you have successfully completed your mission, you will get the balance." He glanced at his gold Omega. "Then we meet here at 09.30 hrs. on Monday."
Gaye left the room by the door behind Shalik. Garry and Ken Jones watched her going with regret. They started towards the far door as Fennel got to his feet.
"Mr. Fennel . . ."
Fennel looked at Shalik.
"There are a few additional things to discuss without wasting the time of these other gentlemen," Shalik said quietly.
Fennel shrugged and sat down again. Shalik waved to the other two, dismissing them.
When they had gone, Shalik selected another cigar, clipped the end and lit it while he looked stonily at Fennel.
"It is necessary, Mr. Fennel, to have a straight talk with you. Your two companions have both served jail sentences, but you can hardly describe them as criminals. However, you are not only a criminal, but a dangerous and vicious one. I have selected you for this operation because of your expertise, but don't imagine I am ignorant of your criminal background. I know you are on the run and anxious to get out of England. You betrayed five criminals in order to reduce your own sentence and the leader of this gang — a man called Moroni — has sworn to kill you. An attempt was made last night, but failed. The second attempt might not fail." Shalik paused to stare at Fennel who was now sitting up straight, his eyes glittering. "So from what I am telling you, Mr. Fennel, you will see I keep myself well informed about the people I employ. Now I have received additional information about you. You are wanted for three vicious murders in Hong Kong, Cairo and Istanbul. Two of your victims were females: the third was a male prostitute. I have evidence of these crimes that Interpol would gladly receive. Does all this that I am telling you, Mr. Fennel, interest you?"
Fennel moistened his lips with his tongue.
"Are you threatening me? I got the idea we are working together."
"Yes . . . we are working together, but that doesn't mean I can't threaten you. There are two things you are to keep constantly in mind." Shalik pointed his cigar at Fennel. "The first point is you will leave Gaye Desmond strictly alone. As soon as she came into this room, your disgusting mind began to wonder about her. You were thinking that in the African bush you would have opportunities to behave in the animal way that comes naturally to you. So I am warning you: try something like that with Miss Desmond, and I promise you Interpol will have your dossier from me. Is that clear?"
Fennel forced an uneasy grin.
"You hold the aces," he said with an attempt at bravado. "You are reading me wrong, but okay, so she is like my mother."
Shalik grimaced.
"If you will excuse the personal remark . . . I feel sorry for your mother."
Fennel gave a hard, barking laugh.
"You don't have to. She was one of the smartest thieves in the racket. If you want to be sorry for anyone, be sorry for my old man. He cut this throat when they put my mother away for ten years."
"I am not interested in your family history," Shalik said curtly. "My second point is this. I want this ring. The operation won't be easy, but a man of your experience and ruthlessness should be able to handle it. However, if you fail, I see no reason why I shouldn't pass your dossier to Interpol . . . so you must understand that I will not tolerate failure."
Fennel bared his teeth in a snarling grin.
"I'll get the goddam ring for you, but if so much depends on me, how about some extra money?"
"I will consider that when I have the ring. Now get out!"
Fennel stared at him, but Shalik was reaching for the telephone. As he began to dial a number, Fennel got up and went into the inner room where Natalie Norman was typing. He didn't look at her, but went out into the corridor and to the lift.
When he had gone, and when she was satisfied she could hear Shalik talking on the telephone, she turned off the hidden tape- recorder and removed the spool.
Garry shut himself in a telephone booth and called Toni who answered immediately.
"We're celebrating, chicken," he said. "I'm hungry. Meet me at the Rib Room, Carlton Towers in exactly one hour from this minute," and he hung up cutting off her squeal of excitement.
He knew he had to give her at least an hour to get ready. Toni was a languid and slow dresser. By the time he reached the Rib Room he was pleasantly high, having drunk four vodka martinis in the bar of the Royal Towers Hotel.
Ken Jones had left him, saying he had a date with a girl friend. They had paused in the crowded lobby of the hotel and Jones had asked, "What do you think of it all?"
"It's a job and the money's nice," Garry returned. "You and I will get along. I feel that. It's Fennel . . ."
Jones grinned.
"What are you worrying about? You have Gorgeous and a chopper. I have Fennel."
"Well, watch him."
"You bet . . . so long, see you Monday. Happy bed bouncing," and Jones went off into the cold, wet night.
Toni, looking ravishing, turned up at the Rib Room just when Garry was losing patience.
"I'm damn well starving," he complained. "You're late!"
"I know, sweetie, but I just can't help it." She flicked her long eyelashes at him. "Like me?"
But now Garry had met Gaye Desmond, Toni White seemed suddenly a little young, trying a little too hard, and less exciting.
"You're wonderful." The four martinis gave his voice conviction.
They moved into the restaurant. As they sat down, Toni asked, "So you got the job?"
"You don't imagine we would be here if I hadn't?"
"Let's order and then you tell me, huh?"
"Don't say huh . . . only American businessmen say that." Toni giggled.
"God! I'm starving too! Let's order quickly."
The maitre d'hôtel came over. Garry ordered a dozen 0ysters each with a half bottle of Chablis, followed by the Scotch beef with a baked potato in jacket and a bottle of Batailley 1961. The dessert, it was decided, should be a lemon sorbet.
"Mmmmmm!" Toni purred. "This job must be marvellous. You do realize this is going to cost a f-o-r-t-u-n-e?"
"So what? I'm worth a fortune." Under the cover of the table, Garry slid his hand up Toni's mini skirt, but she clamped her legs together.
"Mr. Edwards! I'm surprised at you!" she said.
Garry disengaged his hand.
"I'm continually surprising myself, Miss White."
The oysters arrived.
"Well, tell me . . . what is the job?" Toni asked as she cut a fat oyster from its shell. "God! I adore oysters!"
"Don't be greedy," Garry said, forking an oyster into his mouth. "It's never becoming for a young and sexy girl to sound greedy."
"Shut up! Tell me about the job."
"Well, it's a dilly. I go to Natal, and as your geography is as dodgy as mine, Natal is somewhere in South Africa. I lug an American photographer around in a helicopter so she can take photos of wild animals. It is a three week assignment and the money is very acceptable."
Toni's oyster hovered before her mouth. She looked searchingly at Garry who avoided her eyes.
"She? You mean you are flying a woman around jungles for three weeks?"
"That's it," Garry said carelessly. "Now don't start getting into a state. I've met her. She's around forty-five, looks pregnant, and is the type who slaps you on the back and picks her teeth immediately after a meal."
Toni stared at him.
"But that sounds horrible."
"Doesn't it? Still the money is good and after all she could have had a beard and a wooden leg, couldn't she?"
Toni nodded and attacked another oyster.
"Yes, I suppose so."
There was a long silence while the waiter removed the debris and a longer silence while the beef was served.
Garry stole a look at her face and then grimaced. Hell! he thought, she knows I'm lying. Now what am I going to do?
He said gently, "Toni, darling, have you got something on your mind?"
"Should I have?" She didn't look at him but concentrated on her beef. "They have here the most marvellous beef in the world."
"I wouldn't say in the world. I remember in Hong Kong. . ."
"Never mind Hong Kong. Please tell me how much you are being paid to convey a pregnant woman around the jungle."
"I didn't say she was pregnant, I said she looks pregnant. Not quite the same thing."
"How much?"
"Three thousand dollars," Garry lied.
"Well, that's very nice. So you will be away for three weeks?"
"Yes."
Toni continued to eat. There was a dazed expression in her eyes that began to bother Garry.
"I hear Natal is pretty interesting," he said. "It could be quite a trip."
"Shall we try to enjoy our dinner, Garry? This is the first time I've been to the Rib Room."
"I thought we were enjoying it. Are you trying to be dramatic?"
Her long lashes flickered at him, then she dug into her baked potato.
"Please let us enjoy something even if we can't enjoy each other."
That spoilt his meal. Impatiently he pushed aside his plate and
lit a cigarette. Toni ate slowly, obviously enjoying the beef. They said nothing until she had finished, then when the waiter had removed the plates, Garry said, "Just what the hell has suddenly bit you, Toni? This is supposed to be a celebration."
"I love sorbets. Queen Victoria used to stuff sorbets down the throats of all her over-stuffed guests half-way through the menu. The sorbets allowed them to go on stuffing."
"I didn't know you were so well educated, darling. I asked what is biting you."
The lemon sorbets arrived. Garry, in a fit of frustrated rage, crushed his cigarette in the ice.
"Is that how you feel, Mr. Oxfam?" Toni asked, spooning ice into her pretty mouth.
"Look, Toni, I don't know what's come over you, but this has turned into a drag."
"Has it?" She put down her spoon. "Garry, dear, I am always asking myself how it is I land up with a lover who lies to me. It is beginning to bore me."
They stared at each other.
"Women who are able to spot my lies bore me too," Garry said quietly.
"There it is." Toni lifted her hands helplessly. "Damn you, I love you. Let's get out of here and go home and have sex."
He paid the bill without shuddering with one of the $50 Travellers' Cheques Shalik had given him.
In the taxi, Toni sat away from him, putting her feet up on the tip-up seat.
"This photographer . . . she's marvellous, isn't she?" she asked. "Darling Garry, don't lie to me . . . tell me."
He watched the street lights and the rain beating on the pavement, and he sighed. "Okay . . . yes . . . she's marvellous."
Toni's small, pretty face tightened with misery.
"Will you be coming back, Garry?"
"Now look, Toni . . ."
