The Corners of the Globe (39 page)

‘What?’

‘Unless the last of our generals left in the field can win against the odds.’

‘Lemmer?’

‘He has not given up, Mr Carr. He has not surrendered.’

‘Why has he sent Anna Schmidt to Marseilles?’

‘You ask me to guess?’

‘I do.’

‘It is a port. Perhaps a journey is planned. A voyage.’

‘A voyage to where?’

‘From Marseilles, it must be eastwards, I think, don’t you?’

‘Eastwards?’

Krenz shrugged. ‘I can only guess.’ He paused and looked at Max curiously. Then he asked, ‘Will you go after Frau Schmidt?’

‘If I do, and if I find you’ve lied to me, I’ll come back for you, Krenz. I hope that’s clear. I’ll come back. Without warning. And without mercy.’

Krenz nodded fatalistically. ‘I would expect nothing else.’

MAX ARRIVED AT
33 Rue des Pyramides to find Malory tearing up letters and other papers and feeding them into the fire in her office. The warmth of the morning made it obvious the fire had been lit for one reason only. Malory was flushed and more flustered than Max could ever recall.

‘Schools said you’d be here at noon,’ she said, breaking away from the blaze to greet him.

‘Isn’t he here?’

‘I’m here,’ Morahan announced, appearing from the direction of Ireton’s office. ‘We have two fires going.’

‘Destroying the evidence?’

‘Travis kept a smart French lawyer on a retainer. He’ll hold the police off for a few days at least. But we need to use the time wisely.’

‘Are you worried about Travis’s reputation?’

‘We’re more worried we might face charges if they have the opportunity to go through Travis’s files with a fine-toothed comb,’ said Malory. ‘There are heaps of handwritten notes about deals he kept to himself. I had no idea quite how unscrupulous he was.’ She lit a cigarette and handed it almost unconsciously to Morahan, then lit another for herself, before sitting down behind her desk.

‘I’ve told Malory it might be best if we left Paris,’ said Morahan, propping himself against the desk.

‘You’re probably right,’ said Max.

‘He’s told me what you want him to do,’ said Malory.

‘Were you shocked?’

‘Lord, no.’

‘I came here for your decision, Schools.’ Max looked directly at Morahan.

‘He’ll do it,’ said Malory.

‘She knows me better than I know myself,’ Morahan grumbled good-naturedly. ‘I gave myself until noon to make my mind up. But I won’t make you wait.’ He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. ‘If you really want to push this boulder up the hill, I’ll put my shoulder to it.’

Max walked across and shook Morahan’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me. I’ll take every cent you’ve got. And I can’t guarantee success. Failure’s much the likeliest outcome, though exactly what failure would mean . . .’ Morahan fixed Max with his gaze. He was determined to communicate the seriousness of what they had resolved to embark upon. ‘There are so many ways this could go badly wrong, Max. More than I can count or anticipate. Travis would have turned you down flat.’

‘I would never have asked Travis.’

‘There’s a condition,’ said Malory.

‘I’ll have the money my father put by deposited in the bank of Schools’ choice first thing Monday morning.’

‘It’s not a financial condition,’ said Morahan. ‘It’s Malory.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I go too,’ said Malory, studying Max to take full measure of his reaction.

‘You?’

‘I speak some Japanese. I know the country. I have to be with you.’

‘It’s out of the question.’ Max looked at Morahan. ‘Surely you agree, Schools?’

‘Oh, I do. But apparently it’s non-negotiable.’

‘You have a better chance with me than without me,’ said Malory, in a tone suggesting this was a self-evident truth. ‘If my friends are determined to risk their lives, I have to do what I can to save them. It’s really very simple.’

‘Not to me,’ protested Max.

‘Besides, my life will be boring and lonely if I don’t go with you. Like Schools says, I can’t stay here. Maybe I’d have to go home. But I couldn’t bear to do that. Wilmington and I . . . just don’t suit each other any more.’

‘Not to mention that family you don’t spend much time in the bosom of,’ remarked Morahan.

‘Can’t you talk her out of this, Schools?’ pleaded Max.

Morahan shook his head. ‘I stopped trying to talk Malory out of things a long time ago.’

‘You gave him a free hand where assembling his team’s concerned,’ Malory pointed out.

‘Yuh,’ said Morahan. ‘You did.’

‘All right.’ Max had too many other preoccupations to argue with them any longer. And the question of what they would do if and when they reached Japan was so difficult to address he was in no position to deny Malory might well prove valuable. ‘Have it your way.’

‘Will you take Sam?’ Malory asked.

‘Absolutely not. Let the poor fellow stay where he is. He has a good job that might lead on to a better one. He’s done more than enough on my account. I want Sam kept out of this.’

‘I’ll leave for New York straight after Travis’s funeral,’ said Morahan.

‘Wednesday, we think,’ said Malory. ‘Will you still be here then, Max?’

‘I’m leaving Paris tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

‘Care to tell us where you’re going?’ asked Morahan.

‘Marseilles.’

‘You’re not thinking of travelling to Japan on the same ship as the Tomuras, are you?’

‘Why would I be?’

‘The next service to the Far East from Marseilles sails Tuesday,’ Malory explained. ‘It seems likely Count Tomura and his son will be aboard.’

‘I’m not going to Marseilles because of the Tomuras.’

‘Are you sure about that, Max?’ Morahan looked sceptical. ‘Everything in this affair seems to be connected with everything else.’

‘I don’t plan to get in their way. Not yet, at any rate. What I need to know is when you expect to reach Japan.’

‘Late June or early July’s about as accurate as I can be.’

Max nodded. ‘I’ll make sure I’m there by then.’

‘We’ll arrive by steamer from San Francisco,’ said Malory, who had evidently already considered the practicalities. ‘We’ll disembark at Yokohama.’

‘We’ll meet there, then.’

‘All being well,’ said Morahan, in a tone implying he was far from confident all would be well.

‘There’s something else I want your help with,’ said Max, ignoring the note of pessimism. ‘According to Sam, you and he both suspect le Singe has more documents beyond those he gave you.’

‘Maybe,’ admitted Morahan.

‘Hidden somewhere on the roof above Soutine’s flat.’

‘That’s an even bigger maybe.’

‘But if such documents exist they could be crucial.’

‘You want to go looking for them, Max, is that it?’

‘Yes. But your French is a great deal better than mine. And I imagine we’ll have to do a lot of smooth talking to gain access to the roof. So . . .’

‘All right.’ Morahan pushed himself upright. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Leave it till this afternoon if you want to finish here first.’

‘We
should
finish this, Schools,’ said Malory.

‘Yuh.’ Morahan glanced at the crackling fire. ‘I guess we should. When’s your train, Max?’

‘I’ll take the sleeper. It leaves at eight.’

‘OK. I’ll meet you by St-Germain l’Auxerrois church at three o’clock. Good enough?’

‘Good enough.’

‘Now I’d better get back to work.’

Wearily, Morahan lumbered off towards Ireton’s office. Malory smiled wistfully after him as he went. Then she looked up at Max and said, quietly but firmly, ‘This is the fusing of several impulses, none of them particularly rational. You do realize that, don’t you, Max?’

‘Just because something’s dangerous it isn’t necessarily irrational.’

‘You want to avenge your father. On some level, Schools wants to atone for his role in Travis’s death. Neither of you has any clear idea of what we’ll unearth in Japan. It’s all crazily risky.’

‘Why are you coming along, then?’

‘Oh, I have irrational reasons all of my own.’

‘It’s strange,’ Max mused. ‘It’s only just over a month ago I stood here in this room and you predicted that one day you’d return to Japan – and so would I. Did you really believe it? I didn’t.’

‘Some things that aren’t believable are true nonetheless.’

Max smiled at her hint of mysticism. ‘If you say so.’

‘How many men have you killed in your life, Max?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It would to some.’

‘Not to me.’

‘They don’t weigh on your conscience?’

‘No.’

‘What would?’

‘This.’ He looked at her frankly. ‘If I didn’t do it.’

GEORGE CLISSOLD SMILED
warmly as he ambled into Sam’s office in the Majestic garage. Sam had laid aside his ham sandwich when he saw George approaching across the repair bay, though he was left with a strand of something sinewy lodged uncomfortably between two molars to remind him that French ham was not to be trusted.

‘Good to see you up and about, Mr Clissold,’ Sam greeted his visitor. ‘The hospital told me you’d been discharged.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said George. ‘Fit to resume service.’

‘Take a pew.’ Sam vacated his chair and plonked himself on the box he kept for such purposes.

‘Thanks.’ George sank gratefully into the chair. ‘The rib’s still giving me gyp.’

‘And the finger?’ Sam nodded at the prominently bandaged digit.

‘Less trouble than a gouty toe, so I can’t complain. Neither of us can, really, considering how neatly our difficulties with the Tomuras have been wrapped up.’

‘You’re right there, sir. Though it’s a mystery why Count Tomura threw in the towel.’

‘Indeed. Nothing Commissioner Zamaron said when he informed me of the development shed any light on the matter. But the Orient’s full of mysteries. Just be grateful when one of them turns out to your advantage.’

‘Oh, I am. Grateful and no mistake. I thought I was for the high jump.’

George grinned. ‘Me too while I was in the clutches of Tomura’s loathsome son.’

‘Did he ask you about the Farngolds at all?’

‘The who?’

Sam felt secretly pleased with himself. The question Max had wanted him to put to George had been delivered in as natural and deadpan a manner as Sam could have hoped to manage. And the answer, accompanied though it was by a puzzled frown, was in some indefinable respect unconvincing. ‘The Farngolds. The name cropped up in the documents we got hold of. I wondered if . . . Noburo Tomura asked you about them.’

‘No. He didn’t. Who are they?’

‘Count Tomura’s late wife was an Englishwoman. Matilda Farngold. She died in childbirth, delivering Noburo. Her brother, Jack Farngold, has had it in for Tomura ever since . . . apparently.’

‘Extraordinary. I had no idea.’

No idea? Well, that was a bold assertion. Sam would have believed it but for Max’s doubts on the subject. ‘Maybe Sir Henry met Matilda Farngold’s father while he was in Tokyo,’ Sam ventured. ‘Claude Farngold was a tea merchant with a business there. He died in a fire.’

‘Well, well,’ said George. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. I don’t recall Henry ever mentioning a Claude Farngold. I’ll ask my sister. She came over when she heard I’d come a cropper. We’ll be travelling back together tomorrow.’

‘You’re leaving Paris, Mr Clissold?’

‘No reason to stay, Sam. Arnavon’s taken fright at all the police attention he received after Soutine’s murder and scuttled back to Canada. Further dealings with Sir Nathaniel Chevalier will be handled by the lawyers. I’m retiring from the field. That’s principally why I called by, actually. To say goodbye.’

‘I should thank you, Mr Clissold, for keeping my name out of the Soutine murder. Not sure my boss, Mr Shuttleworth, would’ve taken too kindly to me being caught up in that.’

‘Well, you and Schools Morahan saw off the Tomuras a damn sight more effectively than I could ever have done. And with the stolen documents restored to the Japanese delegation, I take it le Singe will be left alone. So, honours are even, I should say. By the way, Zamaron told me Schools Morahan reported you found the documents in some garret Soutine used, but there was no sign of le Singe there. Is that strictly true, Sam, or was he protecting le Singe?’

Sam hesitated, unsure of what to say. Then George took pity on him.

‘On second thoughts, don’t bother to answer that. The less I know the less I have to keep quiet about.’ George struggled to his feet. ‘I’d better be going.’ Sam jumped up and they shook hands. ‘Thanks again, Sam. Go carefully, eh?’

Sam nodded. ‘You too, Mr Clissold.’

‘Oh, I will. This past week’s held more excitement than I’ll need for many a long day. I’ll be going
very
carefully.’

While George was taking his leave of Sam at the Majestic, a skylight was opening in a chimney-stack-screened corner of roof between the Quai du Louvre and the church of St-Germain l’Auxerrois.

Max eased himself out through the gap and lowered the window back into place with one hand, while grasping with the other the bottom rung of a steel ladder fixed to the sheer wall above him that led to the top of the stack.

Cajolery and judicious bribery by Morahan of the
gardienne
’s handyman husband had gained them access to a loft and then via the skylight to what the husband had eye-rollingly referred to as ‘
le toit haut
’ as if speaking of some remote and unknown landscape. The police, he reported, had searched the apartment rented by Soutine, under the name of Soukaris, without catching sight or sound of le Singe, while making only a desultory foray onto the roof – and certainly not the vertiginous section Max was now out on. Both husband and wife denied all knowledge of le Singe and almost all knowledge of Soukaris. That was the tale they had spun to the police and they were determined to stick to it. But if ‘
les messieurs
’ wished to risk their necks and insisted on offering generous compensation for the inconvenience . . . ‘
soit
’ – so be it.

It was actually only Max who was risking his neck. He insisted Morahan wait in the loft while he climbed up to the stand of chimneys and surveyed the scene.