“I have to return to France within five days at the latest and supervise the loading of the first section of the cargo onto the Toscana,” said Shannon. “Everything about the shipment is legal except what’s in those oil barrels. The four separate crates of assorted uniforms and webbing should pass without any problem on board, even if examined by customs. The same goes for the nonmilitary stuff bought in Hamburg. Everything in that section is the sort of stuff a ship might normally take on as ship’s stores: distress flares, night glasses, and so on.
“The inflatable dinghies and outboard engines are for shipping to Morocco—at least, that’s what the manifest will say. Again, it’s perfectly legal. The five oil drums have to go aboard as ship’s stores. The quantity is rather excessive, but there shouldn’t be any problem despite that.”
“And if there is?” asked Endean. “If Toulon customs men examine those barrels too closely?”
“We’re busted,” said Shannon simply. “The ship impounded, unless the captain can show he hasn’t a clue what was going on. The exporter arrested. The operation wrecked.”
“Bloody expensively,” observed Endean.
“What do you expect? The guns have got to go on board somehow. The oil barrels are about the best possible way. There was always that risk involved.”
“You could have bought the submachine guns legally, through Spain,” said Endean.
“I could,” Shannon conceded, “but there would then have been a good chance the order would have been refused. The guns and the ammo together make a matching pair. That would have looked like a special order to outfit one company of men—in other words, a small operation. Madrid might have turned it down on those grounds, or examined the End User Certificate too thoroughly. I could have ordered the guns from Spain and bought the ammunition on the black. Then I would have had to smuggle the ammo on board, and it would have been a much bigger consignment. Either way, there has to be an element of smuggling, and hence of risk. So if it all goes wrong, it’ll be me and my men who go down, not you. You’re protected by a series of cutouts.”
“I still don’t like it,” snapped Endean.
“What’s the matter?” Shannon mocked. “Losing your nerve?”
“No.”
“So cool it. All you have to lose is a bit of money.”
Endean was on the verge of telling Shannon just how much he and his employer stood to lose, but thought better of it. Logic dictated that if the mercenary was going to face prison, he would be as careful as possible.
They talked finance for another hour. Shannon explained that the payment to Johann Schlinker in full, and half to Alan Baker, along with the mercenaries’ second month’s salary, the £5000 he had transferred to Genoa to fit out the Toscana, and his own traveling had emptied the Brugge account.
“Also,” he added, “I want the second half of my salary.”
“Why now?” asked Endean.
“Because the risks of arrest start next Monday, and I shall not be returning to London after that. If the ship is loaded without fuss, she sails for Brindisi while I arrange the pickup of the Yugoslav arms. After that, Valencia and the Spanish ammunition. Then we head for the target. If I’m ahead of schedule, I’d prefer to kill the extra time on the high seas rather than wait in a port. From the moment that ship has hardware on board, I want her in port as little as possible.”
Endean digested the argument. “I’ll put it to my associates,” he said.
“I want the stuff in my Swiss account before the weekend,” countered Shannon, “and the rest of the agreed budget transferred to Brugge.”
They worked out that, with Shannon’s salary paid in full, there would be £20,000 of the original money left in Switzerland. Shannon explained why he needed it all.
“From now on I need a wad of big-denomination travelers’ checks in United States dollars on me all the time. If anything goes wrong from now, it can only be of a nature where a fat bribe on the spot might sort out the problem. I want to tidy up all the remaining traces, so that, if we all get the chop, there are no clues left. Also, I may need to make cash bonuses on the spot to the ship’s crewmen to persuade them to go ahead when they find out what the job really is,
as they must when we are at sea. With the last half payment for the Yugoslav arms still to come, I could need up to twenty thousand.”
Endean agreed to report all this to “his associates” and let Shannon know.
The following day he rang back to say that both transfers of the money had been authorized and the letter instructing the Swiss bank had been sent.
Shannon reserved his ticket from London to Brussels for the following Friday, and a Saturday morning flight from Brussels to Paris to Marseilles.
He spent the night with Julie, and Thursday as well, and Thursday night. Then he packed his bags, mailed the flat keys with an explanatory letter to the agents, and left. Julie drove him to the airport in her red MGB.
“When are you coming back?” she asked him as they stood outside the “Departing Passengers Only” entrance to the customs area of Number Two Building.
“I won’t be coming back,” he said and gave her a kiss.
“Then let me come with you.”
“No.”