The Spoilers / Juggernaut. Desmond Bagley
does it,’ said Follet violently. ‘Kostas is a bad guy to cross. Watch out for your back, Warren.’ He snapped his fingers and a man who was lounging against the wall suddenly tautened and walked over to the bar. Follet said, ‘Dr Warren is just leaving.’
Warren glanced over at Andy Tozier and held up a finger. Tozier strolled over and said pleasantly, ‘Evening, all.’
‘Johnny Follet wants to throw me out,’ said Warren.
‘Does he?’ said Tozier interestedly. ‘And how does he propose to do that? Not that it matters very much.’
‘Who the hell’s this?’ snapped Follet.
‘Oh, I’m a friend of Dr Warren,’ said Tozier. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, Follet. It should be an interesting exercise.’
‘What are you talking about? What exercise?’
‘Oh, just to see how quickly it could be taken apart. I know a couple of hearty sergeant types who could go through here like a dose of salts in less than thirty minutes. The trouble about that, though, is that you’d have a hell of a job putting back the pieces.’ His voice hardened. ‘My advice to you is that if Dr Warren wants to talk to you, then you pin back your hairy ears and listen.’
Follet took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks. ‘All right, Steve; I’ll sort this out,’ he said to the man next to him. ‘But stick around – I might need you fast.’ The man nodded and returned to his position against the wall.
‘Let’s all have a nice, soothing drink,’ suggested Tozier.
‘I don’t get any of this,’ protested Follet. ‘Why are you pushing me, Warren? I’ve never done anything to you.’
‘And you won’t, either,’ observed Warren. ‘In particular you won’t say anything about this to Kostas because if anything happens to me all my information goes directly to the places where it will do most good.’
Tozier said, ‘I don’t know what this is all about, but if anything happens to Dr Warren then a certain Johnny Follet will wish he’d never been born, whatever else happens to him.’
‘What the hell are you ganging up on me for?’ said Follet desperately.
‘I don’t know,’ said Tozier. ‘Why are we ganging up on him, Doc?’
‘All you have to do is to take a holiday, Johnny,’ said Warren. ‘You come with me to the Middle East, help me out on a job, and then come back here. And everything will be as it was. Personally, I don’t care how much money you loot from Argentinian millionaires. I just want to get a job done.’
‘But why pick on me?’ demanded Follet.
‘I didn’t pick on you,’ said Warren wearily. ‘You’re all I’ve got, damn it! I have an idea I can use a man of your peculiar talents, so you’re elected. And you don’t have much say about it, either – you daren’t take the chance of being pushed back to the States. You’re a gambler, but not that much of a gambler.’
‘Okay, so you’ve whipsawed me,’ said Follet sourly. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘I’m running this on the “need to know” principle. You don’t have to know, you just have to do – and I’ll tell you when to do it.’
‘Now, wait a goddam minute.…’
‘That’s the way it is,’ said Warren flatly.
Follet shook his head in bewilderment. ‘This is the screwiest thing that ever happened to me.’
‘If it’s any comfort, brother Jonathan, I don’t know what’s going on, either,’ said Tozier. He eyed Warren thoughtfully. ‘But Doc here is showing unmistakable signs of acting like a boss, so I suppose he is the boss.’
‘Then I’ll give you an order,’ said Warren with a tired grin. ‘For God’s sake, stop calling me “Doc”. It could be important in the future.’
‘Okay, boss,’ said Tozier with a poker face,
V
Warren did not have to go out to find Mike Abbot because Mike Abbot came to him. He was leaving his rooms after a particularly hard day when he found Abbot on his doorstep. ‘Anything to tell me, Doctor?’ asked Abbot.
‘Not particularly,’ said Warren. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Just the usual – all the dirt on the drug scene.’ Abbot fell into step beside Warren. ‘For instance, what about Hellier’s girl?’
‘Whose girl?’ said Warren with a blank face.
‘Sir Robert Hellier, the film mogul – and don’t go all pofaced. You know who I mean. The inquest was bloody uninformative – the old boy had slammed down the lid and screwed it tight. It’s amazing what you can do if you have a few million quid. Was it accidental or suicide – or was she pushed?’
‘Why ask me?’ said Warren. ‘You’re the hotshot reporter.’
Abbot grinned. ‘All I know is what I write for the papers – but I have to get it from somewhere or someone. This time the someone is you.’
‘Sorry, Mike – no comment.’
‘Oh well; I tried,’ said Abbot philosophically. ‘Why are we passing this pub? Come in and I’ll buy you a drink.’
‘All right,’ said Warren. ‘I could do with one. I’ve had a hard day.’
As they pushed open the door Abbot said, ‘All your days seem to be hard ones, judging by the way you’ve been knocking it back lately.’ They reached the counter, and he said, ‘What’ll you have?’
‘I’ll have a Scotch,’ said Warren. ‘And what the devil do you mean by that crack?’
‘No harm meant,’ said Abbot, raising his hands in mock fright. ‘Just one of my feebler non-laughter-making jokes. It’s just that I’ve seen you around inhaling quite a bit of the stuff. In a pub in Soho and a couple of nights later in the Howard Club.’
‘Have you been following me?’ demanded Warren.
‘Christ, no!’ said Abbot. ‘It was just coincidental.’ He ordered the drinks. ‘All the same, you seem to move in rum company. I ask myself – what is the connection between a doctor of medicine, a professional gambler and a mercenary soldier? And you know what? I get no answer at all.’
‘One of these days that long nose of yours will get chopped off at the roots.’ Warren diluted his whisky with Malvern water.
‘Not as bad as losing face,’ said Abbot. ‘I make my reputation by asking the right questions. For instance, why should the highly respected Dr Warren have a flaming row with Johnny Follet? It was pretty obvious, you know.’
‘You know how it is,’ said Warren tiredly. ‘Some of my patients had been cutting up ructions at the Howard Club. Johnny didn’t like it.’
‘And you had to take your own private army to back you up?’ queried Abbot. ‘Tell me another fairy tale.’ The barman was looking at him expectantly so Abbot paid him, and said, ‘We’ll have another round.’ He turned back to Warren, and said, ‘It’s all right, Doctor; it’s on the expense account – I’m working.’
‘So I see,’ said Warren drily. Even now he had not made up his mind about Hellier’s proposition. All the moves he had made so far had been tentative and merely to ensure that he could assemble a team if he had to. Mike Abbot was a putative member of the team – Warren’s choice – but it seemed that he was dealing himself in, anyway.
‘I know this is a damnfool question to ask a pressman,’ he said. ‘But how far can you keep a secret?’