‘Arturo? Hello, it's Bob here. I'm at Schiphol. Sorry, Amsterdam Airport. Listen, I've just put a package on the 19.10 KLM flight to Barcelona. It's marked for you, strictly personal, so have one of your lads pick it up from the purser. The flight's due in at 21.20, so you've got plenty of time to get someone down there.'
Pujol's voice echoed back up the line. 'What is in this package of mystery?'
`Two letters. They're in German — so set up a translator. It'll be worth it, I promise you. The girl we went to see was Hansi's girlfriend. Lucan visited her to pay her off. One letter's from him to her, spinning her some bullshit about a long sea voyage. The other one she wrote to Gruber after we put her wise. You're going to love it. She's got a fertile imagination, that girl. Once you've read them both, you'll know what to do. Have fun.'
`You seem to have done well in Hamburg. How about your other visit?'
`There, too. At first I thought we might have trouble, but fortunately Mr Van Troost was a realist. We were right. There are two loans, for one and a half million dollars in total, transferred already to a very secretive-sounding private bank in Monaco — not the sort of place where we'll be able to walk in and demand information. We must keep track of that money, though — assuming that it isn't too late already. I've got an idea on that score.'
Pujol laughed. 'I'll bet you have. So where do you go now, my friend? Monaco?'
`Sod that for a game. So far I've been in three countries today, with a fourth to come when we touch down in Edinburgh. That'll do me for this week. If I got home, then buggered off straight away to Monaco, Sarah'd kill me. Anyway, I couldn't take the slightest chance of Nick Vaudan spotting me, of him hearing I was there. He thinks he's free and clear, remember, and that I've been scared off and run back to Scotland. If your girlfriend and Paco Garcia did as they were asked — and they will have, each for a different reason — he thinks he's in the clear. That's what gives us our chance of closing down this whole operation.'
'Si, I know. Good luck, my friend.'
`Good luck to you too, when you have your talk with Gruber. Somehow I don't think he'll gob on you this time.'
Skinner hung up and left his booth, which was one of a semicircle of twenty, and went to the cash desk to settle up for his call. As he signed his credit-card slip, Brian Mackie stepped up to his shoulder. 'Get through okay, sir?'
`Okay. My Spanish mate'll send someone to meet the plane and pick up those letters. It's up to him after that. How d'you get on?'
`Fine. There's a fax waiting for me, reporting something from the Vaudan surveillance. Seems he had a visitor from Scotland yesterday. I thought you'd want to see it as soon as we got back, so I've asked for it to be sent down to your house. I didn't think you'd want to go into the office tonight.'
`Too bloody right! D'you arrange for a car to pick us up?' `No need. Mine's at the airport.'
`Good. Drop me off and come in for some supper, so we can have a look at it together. When do we land?'
`Quarter to eight. We board in ten minutes.'
`Right. Gives us time to hit the shops. I've got to buy an Amsterdam T-shirt for Sarah. We've got this deal. If I get to go somewhere on my own, I bring her back something to prove I've been there. She's done okay today, and that's for sure!'