Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [62]
12
Alas Babylon
Youngblood pushed forward, bewilderment on his face. "What is all this?"
"You might well look puzzled, Mr. Youngblood," Stavru said. "Allow me to enlighten you. Your friend Drummond is in reality an agent of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard. His name is Chavasse--Paul Chavasse--and he was apparently put into Fridaythorpe Gaol to keep an eye on you. It would seem your bid for freedom was anticipated."
"A copper?" Youngblood said. "Him?" He laughed incredulously. "Not in a thousand years. I can smell one upwind a mile away. If he's a copper, I'm a monkey's uncle."
"So?" Stavru turned to Chavasse, eyes narrowed. "I value your expert opinion. It would seem Mr. Chavasse may well be an agent of another sort." He nodded to the grey haired man. "Take Mr. Youngblood and the young lady down to the cellar, Gledik, then I want you to go and make the helicopter ready for flight. We leave in thirty minutes."
"Now look here ... " Youngblood started, but Gledik simply stepped back and took careful aim with the Luger he was holding.
"You'll have to excuse Gledik," Stavru said. "A session with the AVO in Budapest involved him in the loss of his tongue, but he's extraordinarily efficient. I would do what he says if I were you."
The door closed behind them and he turned with a smile and produced his cigarette case. "Do have one, my dear chap, and let's get down to business. You and I are, how would you put it, professionals? We know the score."
Chavasse accepted the cigarette and a light. "Depends on how you look at it."
"What are you--M.I.5 or 6?" Chavasse didn't reply and Stavru's eyebrows raised fractionally. "Something special eh? A compliment, I must say. I like the fake robbery touch to get you into prison. Highly ingenious."
"Actually it was the real thing," Chavasse said, deciding for the moment to keep things on the same level. "We felt that only the best was good enough. I must say you've got quite an organisation."
"As the advertising types are so fond of saying, we try to give our customers a service."
"Some service. An early grave for the suckers like George Saxton and Ben Hoffa who were mug enough to fall for the glossy brochure and allowed their cash to pass over in advance."
"Strange as it may seem, Mr. Chavasse, there is no one quite as gullible as your professional criminal. Their capacity for swallowing any kind of a tall story, hook, line and sinker, never ceases to amaze me."
"And the ones--the ones you pass on who ended up East of the Iron Curtain? They must have been gold on the hoof."
"Very much so, I assure you. In fact it occurs to me that certain parties on that side of the political fence might be more than interested in bidding for you, my friend. Every man has his price, in more ways than one."
Chavasse flicked his cigarette out into the rain. "In the circumstances, I'm sure you'll appreciate my understandable curiosity as to how you found out about me?"
Stavru crossed to an oak sideboard and poured himself a brandy from a cut glass decanter. "A very recent discovery, I assure you, but like a good journalist, I never disclose my sources. And now you must excuse me. I have certain preparations to make before we leave." He nodded to Vaughan. "Take him down to the others, Simon, then come back here."
"Youngblood and the girl--what's going to happen to them?" Chavasse said as Vaughan pushed him towards the door.
"They will be well taken care of, I assure you."
Stavru turned, dismissing him completely and Vaughan opened the door. "Don't take it to heart, old man. They won't feel a thing--really they won't. I give you my word."
The cellar into which Vaughan pushed him was in almost total darkness, a patch of light showing from a tiny window on the other side which was far too small to be used as an exit.
As the door closed behind him there was a rustle on the other side of the room and Youngblood came forward.
"Who's that?"
"It's me--Paul."
There was a moment of stillness during which Chavasse prepared himself for some sudden blow, but it never came and