the thieves.”
“Them, too.”
“How’d they find out about it?”
“That’s something we’d like to know,” Ned Nitry said.
“Any ideas?”
“None.”
“Had you already started negotiations for its sale?”
“Only the most delicate kind. A hint or two dropped in the right ear, you might say.”
“Whose ear?”
“A representative of the French government.”
“You’re going to sell it in France?”
“It’s a national treasure, lad. It’s the Sword of St. Louis and no mistake. Suppose your original Declaration of Independence had been lost for a couple of hundred years and suddenly turned up—in 1976, say—d’you think your government wouldn’t spend a few dollars, no questions asked, to get it back?”
“My government?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not too sure. If it were the original Bill of Rights, you might not get a dime.”
“Well, the French are a bit more practical.”
“So I’ve heard.” I looked at my watch. “How much are you asking for it?”
“Three million pounds,” Uncle Norbert said.
“Jesus.”
“They didn’t blink an eye.”
“But they will,” Ned Nitry said. “Those Frenchies like to haggle.”
“How much will you come down?” I said.
“Not more’n fifty thousand quid. We might’ve come down a bit more but this hundred thousand ransom’s going to eat into everybody’s pocket.”
“Are you paying it—or is your client?”
“It was in our possession so we are,” Uncle Norbert said. “And it cuts our profit by a tenth, let me tell you.”
“Has your client got a name?” I said.
“He does,” Ned Nitry said. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to have to talk to him.”
“That isn’t really necessary, Phil,” Eddie Apex said.
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
I sighed. “Eddie, I’m thinking of going in on a deal that you’re in on. And although I think you’re a real nice guy and are probably sweet to your lovely wife, I’m not going into any deal that you’re in on until I check it out. Do you really blame me?”
Eddie Apex gave me his best grin, the one that was so charmingly honest that it made you want to do something nice for him, such as buying his entire stock of gold bricks. “No,” he said. “I don’t blame you. If I were dealing with me, I’d do the same thing. His name’s Robin Styles. Styles with a y.”
“Where can I find him?”
“During the day he moves around a lot. After ten or eleven at night you can always find him at Shields.”
“What’s Shields?”
“One of our newer gambling hells. It’s on Curzon. All the cabbies know it.”
“Can I get in?”
Apex nodded. “I’ll fix it.”
“If you’re satisfied after talking to our client, Mr. Styles, does that mean you’re in?” Uncle Norbert asked.
“I’m in,” I said.
“Not too rich for you, eh?”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be helping to restore a national treasure to France. What you do with your money is your concern. I’ll pay taxes on mine.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Isn’t that wonderful, Ned?”
“Wonderful,” Ned Nitry said.
“I might need that hundred thousand ransom in a hurry,” I said.
“We’ve got it,” Uncle Norbert said.
“Have you got any pictures of the sword?”
Ned Nitry reached into a jacket pocket and handed me an envelope. I took out several color prints that had been taken with a Polaroid. One of them showed Eddie Apex holding the sword out as if he were about to lead the next charge on the Saracens. The others were close-ups of the sword, or at least as close up as the Polaroid could get and still focus. I could see the big diamond in the pommel and the Nitry brothers were right. It was as big as an egg laid by a healthy hen. It didn’t look like a diamond to me, but then I’m not too familiar with what rough diamonds look like.
“How do I identify the thing?” I said.
“Identify it?” Uncle Norbert said. He looked puzzled.
“That’s right. These
“Them, too.”
“How’d they find out about it?”
“That’s something we’d like to know,” Ned Nitry said.
“Any ideas?”
“None.”
“Had you already started negotiations for its sale?”
“Only the most delicate kind. A hint or two dropped in the right ear, you might say.”
“Whose ear?”
“A representative of the French government.”
“You’re going to sell it in France?”
“It’s a national treasure, lad. It’s the Sword of St. Louis and no mistake. Suppose your original Declaration of Independence had been lost for a couple of hundred years and suddenly turned up—in 1976, say—d’you think your government wouldn’t spend a few dollars, no questions asked, to get it back?”
“My government?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not too sure. If it were the original Bill of Rights, you might not get a dime.”
“Well, the French are a bit more practical.”
“So I’ve heard.” I looked at my watch. “How much are you asking for it?”
“Three million pounds,” Uncle Norbert said.
“Jesus.”
“They didn’t blink an eye.”
“But they will,” Ned Nitry said. “Those Frenchies like to haggle.”
“How much will you come down?” I said.
“Not more’n fifty thousand quid. We might’ve come down a bit more but this hundred thousand ransom’s going to eat into everybody’s pocket.”
“Are you paying it—or is your client?”
“It was in our possession so we are,” Uncle Norbert said. “And it cuts our profit by a tenth, let me tell you.”
“Has your client got a name?” I said.
“He does,” Ned Nitry said. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to have to talk to him.”
“That isn’t really necessary, Phil,” Eddie Apex said.
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
I sighed. “Eddie, I’m thinking of going in on a deal that you’re in on. And although I think you’re a real nice guy and are probably sweet to your lovely wife, I’m not going into any deal that you’re in on until I check it out. Do you really blame me?”
Eddie Apex gave me his best grin, the one that was so charmingly honest that it made you want to do something nice for him, such as buying his entire stock of gold bricks. “No,” he said. “I don’t blame you. If I were dealing with me, I’d do the same thing. His name’s Robin Styles. Styles with a y.”
“Where can I find him?”
“During the day he moves around a lot. After ten or eleven at night you can always find him at Shields.”
“What’s Shields?”
“One of our newer gambling hells. It’s on Curzon. All the cabbies know it.”
“Can I get in?”
Apex nodded. “I’ll fix it.”
“If you’re satisfied after talking to our client, Mr. Styles, does that mean you’re in?” Uncle Norbert asked.
“I’m in,” I said.
“Not too rich for you, eh?”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be helping to restore a national treasure to France. What you do with your money is your concern. I’ll pay taxes on mine.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. Isn’t that wonderful, Ned?”
“Wonderful,” Ned Nitry said.
“I might need that hundred thousand ransom in a hurry,” I said.
“We’ve got it,” Uncle Norbert said.
“Have you got any pictures of the sword?”
Ned Nitry reached into a jacket pocket and handed me an envelope. I took out several color prints that had been taken with a Polaroid. One of them showed Eddie Apex holding the sword out as if he were about to lead the next charge on the Saracens. The others were close-ups of the sword, or at least as close up as the Polaroid could get and still focus. I could see the big diamond in the pommel and the Nitry brothers were right. It was as big as an egg laid by a healthy hen. It didn’t look like a diamond to me, but then I’m not too familiar with what rough diamonds look like.
“How do I identify the thing?” I said.
“Identify it?” Uncle Norbert said. He looked puzzled.
“That’s right. These
Similar Books
