Chapter Twenty-three

The Chinese girl showed him in again to the great room overlooking the park. This time she wore a black frock with an emerald dragon on it, buttoned tight to the neck. Her arms were bare, and on both of them there were large bruises. In her eyes, as she opened the door and for a moment looked at him, Hunter seemed to see some message that he could not understand. Then she looked down at the floor, and the momentary impression was gone.

This time Westmark’s silk shirt was peach-coloured, his cuff-links large pearls. The 1803 Madeira was produced and appreciated. He talked about the weather, about going to Ascot, about a yacht he thought of buying which had been offered him by a member of a certain Royal family, a family that must be nameless.

‘You will know who it is I mean, I expect. It is a nice yacht and I should like to help him, but that is not easy.’ His gentle smile expressed his sorrow that it was impossible to help everybody.

Hunter became impatient. He opened the zipping bag, took out the packets of money, and put them on an inlaid rosewood table. Westmark stopped talking. His fingers stroked the stem of the Madeira glass.

‘How much money is there?’

‘Fifteen thousand. In ones.’

‘We were speaking of more than that.’

‘That was talk. This is money.’ Hunter spoke with a confidence he did not quite feel.

‘Where do you want to change it?’

‘In Tangier.’

The German nodded. ‘Is the money hot?’

‘No.’

‘Where did it come from? If it is your own, why not write me a cheque?’ Hunter had no answer. He had not expected such questions. Westmark sipped his Madeira. ‘People do not often come to me with a sum of money like this, and in pound notes too. They write a cheque. I make a piece of property, or something of equal value, available to them in Gibraltar or Valencia or Naples. I have agents in all these places. I have an agent in Tangier, naturally. Or a bank account is opened –’

‘You told me all that before. And I told you I wanted your agent to give me cash. Cash is what you’ve got there on the table.’

‘Where did the money come from, Mr Hunter?’ Hunter jerked back his head in alarm. ‘Yes, I know your name. Your face was familiar to me, but at the time I could not place it. I have done so since.’

‘Well?’

Westmark shrugged. There was something epicene about him, in spite of his size. ‘I have to know the names of those I deal with. It was foolish to call yourself Smith. I know what has happened to you. Where would you get fifteen thousand pounds?’

‘It came from a bank. And I didn’t steal it. Somebody gave it to me.’

‘Very well. I am sorry. We cannot do business.’

I mustn’t let him see what this means to me, Hunter thought. He sat on his striped chair, sipped the Madeira, and said nothing.

‘If you acknowledged that the money was hot, that you had obtained it in some way that you wished to keep to yourself, then we might have arranged something. I have my own terms for hot money.’

‘It’s not hot. I told you that. They’re all ones, and they’re not new. They’re not in sequence. They can’t be checked.’

Westmark went on as if he had not spoken. ‘But you insist that it came from a bank, that somebody gave it to you. Very well. Go and pay it into your own bank, and give me a cheque. Or go and give it to somebody else. I want nothing to do with it.’

He’s got me by the short hairs, Hunter thought, and he knows it. Bitterly he said, ‘All right. The money’s hot, though not in the way you mean. It can’t be traced. But I want to go abroad, and I can’t take it with me. What’s the deal?’

Westmark drank the rest of his Madeira at a gulp. His eyes watched Hunter. ‘Why is it important that you leave England in such a hurry?’

‘That’s nothing to do with it. Or with you.’

‘Very well. Fifty per cent.’

‘So that’s how the good life’s paid for.’ Hunter began to throw the packets of money back into the bag. Westmark watched him throw a few back, and then spoke again.

‘Come now, Mr Hunter. Be reasonable. There is a risk connected with this money, or you would not want to get rid of it so quickly. I take the risk, not you. All you have to do is to go to my agent in Tangier, Mr Kadiska, and he will make available to you seven thousand five hundred pounds in any currency you care to name.’

‘If you honour the agreement.’

‘As I said to you before, you will not find anybody to tell you that Theo Westmark does not honour his agreements. If I wished to cheat you I should agree to any terms you wished. But I have said already, take away the money if that is what you want. I shall forget that you have ever been here.’

There was no time to get in touch with Dawes and make fresh arrangements. But Hunter went on putting money into the bag. Suddenly Westmark laughed, a rich musical sound.

‘You are not an easy man to deal with, Mr Hunter. Do you suppose I have built up my business as – what shall I call it? – an honest broker – by cheating my clients? I told you before that there must be mutual trust in our affairs. I trust you, when you say that my agents will not be arrested when they try to pass this money. You do assure me of that, don’t you?’

‘I’ve told you, there’s nothing wrong with the money.’

‘I accept your assurance,’ Westmark said gravely. ‘And now, if you wish, I will give you a cheque. You can walk out and post it to Tangier to await your arrival. It will mean nothing, but if it soothes your feeling of anxiety…’

‘No. Write to Kadiska, your agent, as you suggested. That’s good enough. But let’s talk about the terms.’

Westmark held the glass up to the light. ‘Sweet, rich, strong. It is nectar. I am afraid that you do not appreciate it.’

The cloying smell was in his nostrils again. He said again, doggedly, ‘Let’s talk about the terms.’

‘But what is there to talk about?’

‘You said fifty per cent. I’ll pay ten. That gives you fifteen hundred pounds for writing a letter.’

Westmark shook his head. ‘It is not for writing a letter, but for taking a risk with something I know nothing about. I could not do it for less than forty per cent. It would be foolish.’

In the end they settled for twenty-five per cent. Instead of having twenty-eight thousand five hundred pounds for conversion in Tangier, he and Anthea would have twelve thousand two hundred and fifty.

‘Another glass of wine?’

‘No, thank you.’

Like a great cat Westmark walked over to the table, and stood looking at the money. He did not touch it. ‘Then let me wish you all the luck in the world.’

He left the room. Westmark was still looking at the money on the table. The Chinese girl appeared, eyes downcast, and went with him to the door. There she said something.

‘What’s that?’ Hunter asked. ‘What did you say?’

‘Your name is Hunter.’

‘Yes.’

‘It is not good for you to come here. There is a man –’

The door of Westmark’s room opened, and his bulk filled the doorway. His voice was soft. ‘Kitten, are you talking to Mr Hunter? You know I do not like you to talk to my guests. Come here.’

The girl almost ran to him. The cosmetic mask did not change, but Hunter sensed the terror behind it. He let himself out.