Games of State - Tom Clancy [45]
"Herr Richter," Henri said, "my companion is going to punch in a number on the bar telephone and hand it to you."
"Not while you're holding my employee at gunpoint," Richter said firmly.
Yves reached Richter and stepped behind him. The German did not turn.
Henri looked at Richter in the darkness. The Frenchman had two options. One was to let this Ewald go. That would give Richter his way and set a bad precedent for the afternoon's proceedings. The other was to shoot Ewald. That might rattle Richter, but it might also bring the police. And it was no guarantee of getting Richter to do what he was told.
There was really only one thing to do. M. Dominique's instructions to them were to get Richter on the telephone and to do the other thing he had told them. They were not here to win a contest of wills.
Henri stepped back and released the bouncer. Ewald rose indignantly, snatched a quick, angry look at Henri, then walked protectively toward Richter.
"It's all right, Ewald," Richter said. "These men won't hurt me. They've come to deliver me unto Dominique, I think."
"Sir," the big man said, "I won't leave while they're here."
"Really, Ewald, I'm quite safe. These men may be French, but they aren't stupid. Now go. Your wife is waiting and I don't want her to worry."
The big German looked from his employer to Yves. He glowered at the Frenchman for a moment. "Yes, Herr Richter. Once again, good afternoon to you."
"Good afternoon," Richter said. "I'll see you again in the morning."
With a final sharp look at Yves, Ewald turned and strode from the club. He brushed roughly against Henri as he left.
The door clicked shut. Henri could hear his watch ticking in the silence. He cocked his head toward the black business phone sitting at the end of the bar.
"Now," Henri said to his partner. "Do it."
Yves lifted the receiver, punched in a number, and handed the phone to Richter.
The German sat with his hands in his lap. He didn't move.
"Put it on speaker," Henri scowled.
Yves punched the speaker button and hung up. The phone rang over a dozen times before anyone picked up.
"Felix?" said the voice on the other end.
"Yes, Dominique," said Richter. "I'm here."
"How are you?"
"I'm well," he said. He looked at Henri, who was lighting a new cigarette with the old. "Except for the presence of your two henchmen. Why do you insult me, monsieur, with the threat of force? Did you think I wouldn't take your call?"
"Not at all," Dominique said benignly. "That isn't the reason I sent them. To tell you the truth, Felix, they've come to close down your club."
Henri swore he could hear Richter's back straighten.
"Close down the club," Richter repeated. "For fleecing your lamb M. Horne?"
"No," said Dominique. "What happened was his fault for coming alone. My intent is to show you the futility of refusing my acquisition offer."
"By muscling me like a common mobster," Richter said. "I expected better from you."
"That, Herr Richter, is your problem. Unlike you, I have no pretensions. I believe in maintaining influence through any means at my disposal. Speaking of which, don't bother to call your escort service this afternoon to check on tonight's schedules. You'll find that the girls and boys have elected to join a rival service."
"My people won't stand for this," Richter said. "They won't be bludgeoned into submissiveness."
Henri noted a change in Richter's voice. He no longer sounded smug. And he could feel Richter's eyes on him as he put his old cigarette down on the guest register.
"No," Dominique agreed. "They won't be bullied. But they will follow you. And you will do as you're told, or you will lose more than just your livelihood."
Within seconds, the register book began to smoke. Richter stood and took a step toward it. Henri raised the pistol. Richter stood still.
"This is spite, monsieur, not good sense," Richter said. "Who benefits if we bloody each other? Only the opposition."
"You drew first blood," Dominique said. "Let's hope this is the last."
A flame leapt from the page of