He handed Engles two rolls of film. ‘A few shots I did of the slittovia and also some interior shots of this room. Take a look at them.” They’re not bad.’ A third roll he passed across to me. ‘Want to see yourself in a state of collapse? It wants more light. But it’s a good action shot. It grips, even though you do play it down a bit.’ He drank his cognac. When he had set his glass down he said, ‘Well, may as well go and develop some of the other rolls. Can’t do anything else in this weather. Wish I’d a camera with me when I came in just now. I’d like to have got a shot of little Valdini with that gun. Somehow, it all looked so real. Might let me know what you think of those shots, old man.’
‘I will,’ Engles said. And Joe heaved himself out of the room.
I glanced round the room. It all looked quite peaceful now. Mayne had gone over to the piano and was quietly drifting through a piece I did not recognise. Carla was talking excitedly to Valdini. Keramikos was sipping an anisette at the other end of the bar. A chord crashed out from the piano and Mayne switched with a malicious sense of humour into La donna e mobile. ‘The pot is boiling all right,’ Engles said quietly. ‘One more scene like that and there really will be some shooting. Valdini is not the only one who has a gun, I’m pretty certain about that.’
‘What’s all this about four million in gold?’ I asked. Our conversation was masked by the sound of the piano.
‘Remember those cuttings from the Corriere delta Venezia you sent me? One of them has a reference to it. It was the consignment from the bank at Venice. Part of it disappeared en route. The actual spot where it disappeared was the Tre Croci Pass. This bunch of carrion are here because of it. Mayne, Keramikos, the Contessa and Valdini — they all know about it. They all think it’s somewhere up here. The interesting point is — who actually knows where it is?’
‘Do you know?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘No. As far as I am concerned, it was just a hunch, based on the news that Stelben owned Col da Varda. You see, when Stelben was originally arrested, I interrogated him in Milan. It was this story of the missing gold that interested us. I spent a lot of time on the case. I even went to Berlin and saw—’ At that moment Mayne stopped playing. There was a sudden silence. The howl of the wind outside invaded the room. It was a dismal, nerve-racking sound. Beyond the windows, the snowflakes sped by in a never-ending stream. ‘Better go on playing,’ Engles said to Mayne, ‘or everybody will start screaming at each other again.’
Mayne nodded quite cheerfully. He seemed perfectly at ease again. He settled himself on the stool and plunged into Symphonic Fantastique. Keramikos sidled along the bar. ‘Will you please tell me, Mr Engles, what was the cause of the trouble between the Contessa Forelli and Mayne?’ he asked.
Engles gave him a quick resume of what had occurred. When he had finished, Keramikos nodded. ‘Ah! It is the thought of all that gold that made her mad. She will have been called worse things than a prostitute in her life. So she does not know where it is, eh?’ He thrust his head forward suddenly. ‘Do you know where it is, Mr Engles?’
‘If I did, you would hardly expect me to tell you,’ Engles replied.
Keramikos gave a short laugh that was more like a grunt. ‘Of course not, my friend. But we should help each other a little, you and I. These people here’ — and he nodded in the direction of the Contessa and Mayne — ‘they are only interested for themselves. With them it is self-interest. Whereas you and I, we have a mission. We do not work for ourselves.’
‘And who are you working for now, Keramikos?’ Engles asked.
‘For my country,’ he replied. ‘Always for my country.’ He peered more closely at Engles. ‘You remember that we have met before, eh?’
‘Of course I do,’ Engles replied. ‘It was at Piraeus. You had some ELAS guerillas with you and were attempting to mine the harbour at night.’
‘Ah — I thought you had not forgotten. It was cold that night. The harbour water was black and full of oil and dirt. It tasted very unpleasant. I did not enjoy that swim.’ He smiled. ‘And now we drink together. Do you not find that strange?’
‘It’s not always possible to choose one’s drinking company,’ Engles replied blandly.
Keramikos gave a fat chuckle and his little eyes twinkled behind the thick lenses. ‘That is life,’ he said. ‘You serve your Government. I serve mine. Our meetings should be dramatic moments — with pistols, like Valdini. Instead, we drink.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Keramikos,’ Engles said. ‘You have no government left to serve.’
