Solo - Jack Higgins [13]
'It's quite simple,' Mikali said. 'He was the most remarkable man I ever knew.'
'And immensely proud of you?'
'Of course. Not to continue now, if only for his sake, would be the greatest betrayal imaginable. You could say this Paris trip is my way of lighting a candle to his memory.'
He turned and went down the steps to his hire car.
*
He had a rehearsal with the London Symphony that afternoon. The conductor was on top form and he and Mikali clicked into place with each other immediately. However, he did ask for a further rehearsal the following afternoon between two and four as the concert was at seven-thirty in the evening. Mikali agreed.
At five-thirty that evening, he waited in an old Citroen in a lay-by on the Versailles road not far from the palace itself. Jarrot was at the wheel.
'If you'd only tell me what this is all about?' he grumbled.
'Later.' Mikali offered him a cigarette. 'You said if I ever wanted anything to come to you, didn't you?'
'Yes, but...'
At that moment the black Mercedes with the Greek pennant cruised by and Mikali said urgently, 'Get after that car. No need to rush. He's not doing more than forty.'
'That doesn't make sense,' Jarrot said as he drove off. 'Not in a heap like that.'
'It's simple really,' Mikali said. 'The Colonel likes the scenery.'
'The Colonel?'
'Just shut up and keep driving.'
The Mercedes took the road across the Bois de Meudon, the park at that time in the evening quiet and deserted. It started to draw away. At that moment, a motorcyclist swept past them at speed, flashers going, a sinister figure in crash helmet and goggles and dark, caped coat, a submachine-carbine slung across his back.
He disappeared down the road passing the Mercedes. 'Bastard,' Jarrot spat out of the window. 'There's been a lot of these CRS swine riding around on those flash motorbikes recently. I thought they were only supposed to be riot police.'
Mikali smiled softly, lit another cigarette. 'You can slow down. I know how to do it now.'
'Do what, for Christ's sake?'
So Mikali told him. The Citroen swerved violently as Jarrot braked hard and pulled it in to the side of the road.
'You're crazy. You must be. You'll never get away with it.'
'Oh, yes, I will with your help. You can supply me with everything I need.'
'Like hell I will. Listen, you madman, a voice on the phone is all the Surete would need.'
'What a fat, stupid man you are,' Mikali said calmly. 'I'm John Mikali. I play in Rome, London, Paris, New York. Does it make any kind of sense that I could be contemplating such a crazy idea? Why would I do such a thing? My grandfather fell to his death from that balcony by accident. The court said so.'
'No!' Jarrot said wildly.
'Whereas you, old stick, are not only a cheap crook, as became painfully clear when you showed me all that loot at your garage that night. You were also heavily involved with the OAS.'
'No one can prove that,' Jarrot said wildly.
Oh, yes they can. Just your name and even a hint of an OAS connection and it's Service Five, isn't that what they call the strong-arm squad - the barbouzes? Half of them old mates of yours from Algiers, so you know what to expect. They'll spread you on the table, wire up your privates, then press the switch. You'll be telling them everything down to the finest detail within half an hour, only they won't believe you. They'll keep on, just to see if they've got it all. In the end you'll be dead or a drooling idiot.'
'All right,' Jarrot groaned. 'Don't go on. I'll do it.'
'But of course. You see, Claude, all you have to do is live right. Now let's get out of here.'
He wound down the window and let the evening air cool his face. He hadn't felt so truly alive in years, every nerve in him strung to perfect tune. It was like that last final moment in the wings before walking out into the light towards