The Scarletti Inheritance - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,70

bonds mature. To do so would be to publicly accuse the Scarlatti family. It would tear the Scarlatti Industries apart. Make suspect all Scarlatti transactions in every banking institution in the civilized world. It's a heavy responsibility. Considering the amount of money involved, it could create panics in a hundred corporations.'

Canfield reached the limits of his concentration. 'Who was Jefferson Cartwright?'

The only other person who knew about the securities.'

'Oh, my God!' Canfield sat up in the chair. 'Do you really think he was killed for the reasons given?'

'I didn't know there were any.'

'They were indirect. He was a notorious philanderer.' The field accountant looked into the old woman's eyes. 'And you say he was the only other one who knew about the securities?'

'Yes.'

'Then I think that was why he was killed. In your section of town, you don't kill a man for sleeping with your wife. You simply use it as an excuse to sleep with his.'

'Then I do need you, don't I, Mr. Canfield?'

'What had you planned to do when we reach England?'

'Precisely what I said I was going to do. Start with the banks.'

'What would that tell you?'

'I'm not sure. But there were considerable sums of money by ordinary standards. This money had to go somewhere. It certainly wasn't going to be carried around in paper bags. Perhaps other accounts under false names; perhaps small businesses quickly established - I don't know. But I do know this is the money that will be used until the payments for the securities are liquid.'

'Christ, he's got thirty million dollars in Stockholm!'

'Not necessarily. Accounts could be opened in Switzerland totaling thirty million - probably paid in bullion - but not released for a considerable length of time.'

'How long?'

'As long as it takes to certify the authenticity of every document. Since they were sold on a foreign exchange that could take months.'

'So you're going to trace the accounts in the banks.'

'That would appear to be the only starting point.' Elizabeth Scarlatti opened the drawer of a writing desk and took out a vanity case. Unlocking it she took out a single sheet of paper.

'I assume you have a copy of this. I'd like you to read it over and refresh your memory.' She handed him the paper. It was the list of foreign banks where moneys had been deposited by Waterman Trust for Ulster Stewart Scarlett. Canfield remembered it from the material sent from the Justice Department.

'Yes, I've seen it, but I haven't got a copy - Something less than a million dollars.'

'Have you noticed the dates of the withdrawals?'

'I remember the last one was about two weeks before your son and his wife returned to New York. A couple of accounts are still open, aren't they? Yes, here...'

'London and The Hague.' The old woman interrupted and continued without stopping. 'That's not what I mean, but it could be valuable. What I'm referring to is the geographic pattern.''

'What geographic pattern?'

'Starting with London, then north to Norway; then south again to England - Manchester; then east to Paris; north again to Denmark; south to Marseilles; west into Spain, Portugal; northeast to Berlin; south again into North Africa - Cairo; northwest through Italy - Rome; then the Balkans; reversing west back to Switzerland - it goes on. A patchwork.' The old lady had recited by rote as Canfield tried to follow the list of dates.

'What's your point, Madame Scarlatti?'

'Nothing strikes you as unusual?'

'Your son was on his honeymoon. I don't know how you people go on honeymoons. All I know about is Niagara Falls.'

'This is not a normal itinerary.'

'I wouldn't know about that.'

'Let me put it this way - You wouldn't take a pleasure trip from Washington, D.C., to New York City, then return to Baltimore with your next stop Boston.'

'I suppose not.'

'My son crisscrossed within a semicircle. The final destination, the last and largest withdrawal was made at a point more logically reached months earlier.'

Canfield was lost trying to follow the banks and dates.

'Don't bother, Mr. Canfield. It was Germany. An obscure town in southern Germany. It's called Tassing - Why?'
Chapter Twenty-two
PART TWO

Chapter Twenty-two

The second and third days of the Calpurnia voyage were calm, both the weather and the first-class section of the ship. The news of the death of a passenger cast a pall over the voyagers. Mrs. Charles Boothroyd was confined to quarters under the constant supervision of the ship's doctor and attending nurses. She had gone into hysterics upon hearing the news of her husband and it had been necessary