Five minutes later we were in Liechtenstein and turning on to the main road which we'd left on the other side of the frontier, three kilometres back. The Rolls had taken a thumping, but Rolls's are built for that, and fifty yards in the dark is a long range for a Sten – particularly if it was like most Stens I'd known and the single-shot button didn't work. One headlight was shot out, there were bullet-holes through the windscreen and both left-hand doors, and one through the big radiator grill. I didn't know if it hadpunctured the radiator itself – but we'd certainly find out on the mountain road to Steg.
I sat at the back alongside Maganhard, wincing at every jolt and slopping cognac down my shirt. Harvey was up front with the girl.
Maganhard hadn't said a word, but he didn't look much more dead than usual, so perhaps he was thinking.
After a few miles, Harvey turned round and said through the partition: 'D'you want us to leave you down near Vaduz? – find a doctor?'
Maganhard woke up and looked at me. 'You are wounded?'
'I'm not dying. And I don't suppose you know a doctor who's ready to call a bullet-hole a mosquito bite. And, anyway, there's still Calieron to come.'
'Think we'll have any trouble?' Harvey asked.
'Not much. He can't have every gunman in Europe under contract. And if he had, he'd have put them down in the battle zone.'
After a time, Maganhard said: 'When I told you I wanted to get past the frontier, Mr Cane, I did not understand that it would be necessary for a man to be burned as that man was,'
I said wearily: 'Nobody knew it would be necessary, Mr Maganhard. It just happened. In this sort of job, people don't always die with a brave smile and a kind word for mother.'
'I thought you knew him! '
'I did. And I'm sorry he got burned, if that helps. But nobody forced him to be down there with a Sten.'
He thought for a moment, then said: 'I suppose they came to kill or be killed. Perhaps it was fair.'
'You're still sentimentalising them. They came to kill – full stop. If they'd thought there was a chance of getting killed they wouldn't have come.' I shook my head. 'Alain didn't become St Francis just by dying rather nastily.'
Miss Jarman said: 'All the other times, you didn't have a choice about shooting. They started it. But this time – you planned it. You started it.'
'I could have stuck my head out of the trench,' I growled, 'and given them the first shot – if that would have made me more moral. It would damn sure have made me headless.'
'I didn't mean that.' Her voice was cold and a little shivery, and not just from the wind coming through the bullet-holes. She'd seen Alain burn, too. 'I mean perhaps we could have done something else that…' Her voice trailed off.
'Perhaps we could,' I said heavily. But I was trying not to think what.
We turned right at Triesen and on to the twisting road up to Triesenberg and, beyond it, Steg. We were going to find out about that radiator now.
Miss Jarman said: 'The engine's getting warm.'
'Keep going. Don't slow up.'
She didn't. We slammed into a series of hairpins as fast as Morgan would have taken them – and on just one headlight. But she had an open road for it: Liechtensteiners don't believe in doing much but sleep outside the money-making hours. We'd-only seen a cyclist and a tourist coach since the frontier.
As we came up to the lights of Triesenberg, it started to drizzlegently. Harvey leant across almost into Miss Jar-man's lap to read the radiator temperature. 'The needle's practically off the clock,' he reported. 'We won't get much farther.'
'Keep going.'
'Christ, we'll blow a cylinder.'
'That engine's full of cylinders. Keep going.'
The girl said flatly: 'We won't get as far as Steg unless we stop to cool down.'
,'If we don't get there quick, there won't be any point in going.'
Maganhard turned to me. 'We have nearly an hour and a half.'
'D'you think so? Didn't you tell me that Calieron wouldn't kill Fiez as long as he was trying to kill you? Well, perhaps now he knows he can't kill you – so his only hope is to knock off Fiez and then outvote you.'
He went quiet. Then he asked suspiciously: 'How could he know I am not dead?'
'By now Morgan's probably rung the General and the General's rung Calieron. And there must have been some arrangement for Alain and Co. to ring Calieron to say the job was done. Either way, nobody's told him youare dead – so he must be getting pretty jumpy by now.'
We ran clear of Triesenberg and the road became a gritty track winding up through the steep mountainside, pastures. A faint smell of hotness began to drift back from the engine – and a small, harsh clattering sound.
Miss Jarman said: 'I think the engine's going to seize.'
'Not yet. Just the valves getting hot. Get above the snow-line and we can stuff some of that into it.'
Maganhard said: 'If Herr Fiez is dead, then it would be a mistake for me to go on.'
'More of a mistake not to be sure.'
We wound on up. The rain got stronger and colder, and as the headlight swept the mountainside on bends, I could see fragments of cloud crawling in among the pines above us.
And by now the engine was sounding like a convention of Spanish dancers. Harvey turned to say something.
Headlights blazed in our faces. The girl tromped on the brakes.
The other driver must have reckoned our single headlight for a motor-bike, because he kept on coming. Then his brakes screamed like a new soul in Hell and his lights zigzagged as he skidded. There was a long tearingcrunch. The Rolls shuddered delicately and stopped.
Harvey was out on the running-board, gun in hand. I grabbed the empty Mauser, tried to jump to my feet, got a flare of pain in my rib, and sat down again.
Jammed at an angle across our left front bumper was a big black German saloon, ripped open like a sardine tin from front wheel to rear door. The Rolls' bumper probably had a couple of scratches on it.
In the sudden silence Harvey said clearly: 'Come out slowly and with the hands empty.'
The driver got out fast, waving his hands furiously and swearing like a pirate's parrot. It was Henri Merlin.
I climbed carefully across Maganhard's feet and said: 'Calm down, Henri, the Marines are here.'
He shoved his head forward and peered through the drizzle. 'Caneton? Pas possible! But it is! You are superb! ' He reached to clout me on both shoulders. I dodged gingerly.
Maganhard stepped down behind me. We were standing between the cars, just outside the headlight beams, lit by a soft underglow reflected back off the rain. I saw Merlin's huge damp grin – and then his face collapse into despair.
He spread his hands. 'But now – it does not matter. He – they-' He stopped to sort and translate his thoughts.
Maganhard said: 'Good evening, Monsieur Merlin.'
Merlin turned to him. 'I came – to Monsieur Fiez – a quarter of an hour since. And I find no Galleron – and Fiez is dead.'
It went very quiet again. Something that wasn't quite rain brushed my face. Several somethings danced like moths in the headlights. We hadn't quite reached the snow-line, but as the freezing level slid down the mountain, the snow-line had reached us.
Maganhard looked at me and said quietly and bitterly: 'It seems this Calieron took your advice.'
'He could afford better advice than mine.'
'He is not a fool,' Maganhard said. 'An hour ago he was counting on me being dead. Now, he is counting on me being alive. So – we must not go.'
'We could just sneak up and view the body,' I suggested.
'Calieron must be waiting near by for me to come.'
'But it isn't midnight yet. We could still go and view the body.'
There was a clatter as the girl opened the bonnet of the Rolls, and a long hiss as the snow hit the hot engine.
Maganhard said with stiff patience: 'Under Caspar's rules, the time set for a meeting is thelast possible time. If all shareholders are present before that, a meeting is automatically convened. With Herr Fiez dead, all the shareholders will be present if I am there and this Calieron walks in. Therefore-'
'But he won't convene any meetings,' I said cheerfully, 'on account of me having a gun stuffed down his throat. So let's go up and view-'
'Christ,' Harvey said, 'anybody'd think you were running for election, that way you say the same thing every ten seconds. So you want to go see the body? – okay, let's go see it, if it'll keep you quiet.'
'All right,' I said. 'All right, if you insist.' The girl came up beside me. 'How's the engine?'
'I've got the radiator cap off, but we need something to put inside. The snow isn't lying yet.'
'Drain off Merlin's car.'
Henri started to look horrified, remembered all the other things that had happened to that car, and just shrugged.
Harvey and the girl went away. The snow, in bigger and slower flakes, drifted slowly around us.
Merlin coughed and said: 'Caneton – I am sorry, but-' He turned to Maganhard and said in a legal voice: 'Monsieur, as your lawyer, it is my duty to advise you against risks. To go to the house would be a risk. Done – I must advise you not to go.'
Maganhard frowned.
I said: 'As your illegal adviser, I'd say it would be nice tomeet Galleron after all this.'
Maganhard looked at me sharply. 'I do not want any more shooting! '
I shrugged one shoulder. 'Whatever you say. You're the boss.' He looked suspicious. I went on: 'But there's no need to rush a decision. Let's just get the issue quite clear.'
He shook his head impatiently, throwing off the clutching snowflakes. 'It is cold out here.'
'Be a lot colder without your share of Caspar,' I said soothingly. 'Let's see now: Caspar's got a share capital of forty thousand Swiss francs, right? I suppose it's in ten- or hundred-franc shares?'
Ten.'
'Making four thousand shares in all. How many d'you own?'
'You know already. Thirty-three per cent.'
'Not the question I asked. Howmany?'
It was very quiet in the slow, swirling snow. Harvey and the girl passed as dark ghosts beyond the lights, draining Merlin's car into the empty brandy flask, then pouring it into the Rolls.
Maganhard hunched his shoulders against the snow and said: 'I would have to work that out. But the percentage is the important factor.'
'Sure – but share certificates only show howmany shares. Now, you two have met Fiez; I haven't. Tell me if I'm reading him right. Galleron walks in a week ago, slaps down his share certificate, says: Tve got Heiliger's shares -let's have a meeting and sell out the whole company,' and Fiez remembers the trouble you'll have getting there – and goes into a galloping panic. Am I right?'
Maganhard and Merlin looked at each other. Merlin spread his hands and murmured:'C'est possible.'
Maganhard said slowly: 'He would probably do that. But-"
'Maybe he panicked a bit too quickly. Still, he knew the certificate couldonly be Heiliger's, couldonly be worth thirty-four per cent – and so it outvoted him. But a bearer certificate doesn't show either of those things: no name, no percentages. Only the number of shares held. And Fiez would be used to thinking in percentages, too. So maybe he didn't stop to work it out. Have you worked out your holding yet?'
Maganhard said stiffly: 'If you please…'
I found I was waving the Mauser at him for emphasis. It was still empty, but I'd shoved home the bolt, so nobody would know by looking at it. 'Sorry.'
He said: 'I own 1320 shares.'
'Correct. Thirty-three per cent. And thirty-four per cent is 1360 shares. Pretty easy numbers to confuse, aren't they? – when you're used to thinking in percentages. I wonder if Fiez didn't do just that – and Galleron's certificate showed just 1320 shares, same as yours, same as Flez's.'
He stared at me. 'You mean – it is a fake?'
'Why would you fake one with thewrong number of shares on it? No, it's genuine – but it isn't Heiliger's. That burned up when he crashed. No, it's yours. Right now, you don't own a centime of Caspar. How does it feel being poor?'
There was a long hush.
I said quietly: 'I suppose when you got hit with that rape charge you couldn't get around so easily, so you increased Merlin's power of attorney. I'd guess you even lodged a lot of important papers with him, or maybe gave him power to get them out of a safe deposit for you. I'd even guess one of them was the Caspar certificate.'
I grinned at Merlin. He went on watching the Mauser which was watching his stomach. 'Any Frenchman could do that heavy Belgian accent, Henri – hell, I could do it myself. Well enough to fool a Liechtensteiner like Fiez, anyway. Now give kind Mr Maganhard back his ten million quid – Galleron.'
He looked up slowly, and after a tune he smiled a little sadly. 'Legally, of course, a bearer certificate belongs to whoever bears it. But possibly we are not being strictly legal.' He sighed and reached inside his coat. A gun blasted three times beside my elbow. Merlin's face was lit by the flashes, his expression frozen in the moment of changing. Then he was pitched away into the swirling snow.
I whipped round and clouted the big Webley out of Maganhard's hand.
Harvey came cat-footed out of the curtain of snow, gun in hand. 'What in hell happened?'
'We met Monsieur Galleron.' I nodded at Merlin. 'Meet Monsieur Galleron.'
Harvey looked at me, then walked across and peered carefully down at him and shook his head.
Maganhard was standing with his eyes clenched shut, melted snow streaming down his face and glasses and glinting in the backlash of light from the headlamps.
I said: 'Welcome to the Murderers' Club.'
He opened his eyes slowly. 'Is he dead?'
I nodded. 'It's not so difficult really, is it? ' But I wished I had remembered he still had that damn revolver.
Harvey came back. 'Was he really Galleron?'
'Yes. D'you want to stand around talking about it in a snowstorm, or can it wait?'
'Can wait. But what about him?'
'Strip his pockets and stick him in the Rolls. We're going to have to dump that car before morning, so he may as well go with it '
Merlin's car had a Liechtenstein registration, so it must have been hired. So perhaps he'd hired it in the name of Galleron. But it didn't much matter. Harvey said doubtfully: 'He'll get found.'
'Christ, we've left dead men spread from here to the Atlantic,' I snarled. 'One more'll just screw things up so the cops never work it all out.'
And that was just about true. Beyond a certain point, a crime can get so complicated that the cops know no jury or judge will ever understand it – even if they do themselves. On top of everything else, finding a Paris lawyer who'd been posing as a Belgian businessman dead in Liechtenstein in the car of the distinguished British resident of Switzerland would just be a ten-aspirin headache.
Harvey grinned sourly and bent over Merlin and came up with a handful of papers and a small automatic. I took the biggest of the papers: a stiff, folded document that opened out into a spread of fancy lettering and a big seal like a 'wanted' notice for Robin Hood. The Caspar certificate. For a few seconds I was a very rich man. The snow went on falling on me.
I gave it to Maganhard. 'Yours, I think. Let's get up the hill for that meeting.'
'But Herr Fiez is dead,' he said faintly.
'Don't be silly. Saying that was just Merlin's last chance to stop you coming; he could have killed you off later, before you caught on. But using your certificate, he always needed you dead and Fiez alive. It makes sense now.'
Harvey dragged Merlin's body into the back of the Rolls. Maganhard kept his eyes front and walked carefully in after it. I picked up the Webley, rubbed it clear of fingerprints, and threw it into a field.
And now perhaps we could go up and have a quiet company meeting.