back in his chair and picked up another of the excellent sandwiches by his side. He ate it slowly, thinking this kind of situation was what he would like to be happening twenty-four hours of the day. The dull routine, the endless files, the official letters bored him, but when he had a free hand, money to spend, good agents and a problem that required shrewd planning, life really came alive.
A tap sounded on the door.
“Come on in,” he said and wiped his thin lips on his handkerchief.
Jack Kerman came in.
Dorey regarded this slightly built man as his most reliable outside agent. There was nothing spectacular about Kerman. Aged thirty-three, with alert humorous eyes and a crew cut, he made a respectable living running a garage in the Passy district. His partner, a fat cheerful man whose name was Jacques Cordey, had an idea that Kerman was an Agent for the C.I.A., but neither men ever discussed that possibility, and when Kerman went off periodically, Cordey carried on with the work of the garage and asked no questions. It was a convenient arrangement.
When Dorey was uneasy about the success of an operation, his mind turned automatically to Kerman. He had alerted him to come to the Embassy before Girland had arrived. Kerman had been waiting with his usual placid patience until he was sent for.
“Sit down, Jack,” Dorey said amiably. “Want a sandwich?”
Kerman came over to the big desk and lowered his slight frame into the lounging chair. He was wearing an old, well-worn sports coat that he had bought from Simpsons of Piccadilly when last he had been in London, and a pair of shabby, grey slacks. There was nothing showy about Kerman, but when you looked into the alert, rather ugly face and into the steady, dark eyes, you would reverse your opinion that he was just another rather unsuccessful man.
“Not for me, sir, thank you. I’ve had dinner,” he said and waited.
“We have Girland again,” Dorey said. “I didn’t want to use him but the situation is such I had no option.”
Kerman smiled.
“That means trouble, sir.”
“I know. I’ll put you in the picture.” Briefly, Dorey explained about Erica Olsen and the part he wanted Girland to play.
Kerman nodded his approval.
“It could work, sir. Yes . . . of course, Girland would be your only choice.”
“He’s downstairs in the car pool right now and he should be at the American hospital in half an hour. I want you to tail him, Jack. Don’t let him spot you. I wouldn’t want him to think I don’t trust him. It’s your job to help him if he runs into trouble.”
Dorey slid a slip of paper across the desk. “This is a chit for a car. Get something fast. I’ll leave that to you. Girland has a radio pill to give to the woman. I hope he does give it to her. If he does, your job will be easy. Pick a car with a radar scanner. Keep in touch with me. We must not lose this woman. I have already warned Girland that the Soviet and Chinese will be after her. It is possible I have moved fast enough to beat them, but I could be kidding myself. You can call on as much help as you may need. Right now I am leaving this to you to handle on your own. O’Halloran’s men are too heavy-handed for this kind of job, but you may have to call them in. Don’t hesitate if you feel you have to. Girland has a 202 Mercedes, black, No. 888. Get over to the hospital as fast as you can.” Dorey slid a packet of one hundred francs across the desk. “This should hold you, Jack, but if you want more, let me know. You’ll follow him to Eze. Once there, providing you are certain he hasn’t been followed, you can safely leave him.” Dorey regarded Kerman. “You know what I like about you? You never ask for money. Girland never stops asking for it.”
Kerman grinned. He slid the money into his hip pocket.
“I make a living. Girland doesn’t and don’t make the mistake, sir, of thinking Girland isn’t a good man. In my reckoning, he’s the best you’ve got.”
Dorey
A tap sounded on the door.
“Come on in,” he said and wiped his thin lips on his handkerchief.
Jack Kerman came in.
Dorey regarded this slightly built man as his most reliable outside agent. There was nothing spectacular about Kerman. Aged thirty-three, with alert humorous eyes and a crew cut, he made a respectable living running a garage in the Passy district. His partner, a fat cheerful man whose name was Jacques Cordey, had an idea that Kerman was an Agent for the C.I.A., but neither men ever discussed that possibility, and when Kerman went off periodically, Cordey carried on with the work of the garage and asked no questions. It was a convenient arrangement.
When Dorey was uneasy about the success of an operation, his mind turned automatically to Kerman. He had alerted him to come to the Embassy before Girland had arrived. Kerman had been waiting with his usual placid patience until he was sent for.
“Sit down, Jack,” Dorey said amiably. “Want a sandwich?”
Kerman came over to the big desk and lowered his slight frame into the lounging chair. He was wearing an old, well-worn sports coat that he had bought from Simpsons of Piccadilly when last he had been in London, and a pair of shabby, grey slacks. There was nothing showy about Kerman, but when you looked into the alert, rather ugly face and into the steady, dark eyes, you would reverse your opinion that he was just another rather unsuccessful man.
“Not for me, sir, thank you. I’ve had dinner,” he said and waited.
“We have Girland again,” Dorey said. “I didn’t want to use him but the situation is such I had no option.”
Kerman smiled.
“That means trouble, sir.”
“I know. I’ll put you in the picture.” Briefly, Dorey explained about Erica Olsen and the part he wanted Girland to play.
Kerman nodded his approval.
“It could work, sir. Yes . . . of course, Girland would be your only choice.”
“He’s downstairs in the car pool right now and he should be at the American hospital in half an hour. I want you to tail him, Jack. Don’t let him spot you. I wouldn’t want him to think I don’t trust him. It’s your job to help him if he runs into trouble.”
Dorey slid a slip of paper across the desk. “This is a chit for a car. Get something fast. I’ll leave that to you. Girland has a radio pill to give to the woman. I hope he does give it to her. If he does, your job will be easy. Pick a car with a radar scanner. Keep in touch with me. We must not lose this woman. I have already warned Girland that the Soviet and Chinese will be after her. It is possible I have moved fast enough to beat them, but I could be kidding myself. You can call on as much help as you may need. Right now I am leaving this to you to handle on your own. O’Halloran’s men are too heavy-handed for this kind of job, but you may have to call them in. Don’t hesitate if you feel you have to. Girland has a 202 Mercedes, black, No. 888. Get over to the hospital as fast as you can.” Dorey slid a packet of one hundred francs across the desk. “This should hold you, Jack, but if you want more, let me know. You’ll follow him to Eze. Once there, providing you are certain he hasn’t been followed, you can safely leave him.” Dorey regarded Kerman. “You know what I like about you? You never ask for money. Girland never stops asking for it.”
Kerman grinned. He slid the money into his hip pocket.
“I make a living. Girland doesn’t and don’t make the mistake, sir, of thinking Girland isn’t a good man. In my reckoning, he’s the best you’ve got.”
Dorey
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