the German Finance Ministry was paying exorbitant prices. Explanation proved out. Following the war, the Ruhr Valley interests repurchased from the Weimar government. Offices in Stuttgart and Tassing reopened.
The second, on page 23, paragraph 2, referred to one of Bertholde's more recently formed corporations and included the following information.
The Marquis de Bertholde's partners in the importing firm are Mr. Sydney Masterson and Mr. Harold Leacock -
Masterson and Leacock.
Both were on the Zurich list. Each owned one of the fourteen properties in Switzerland.
No surprise. They tied Bertholde to the Zurich contingent. No surprise at all. Just comforting - in a professional way - to know that another piece of the puzzle fitted.
As he finished his coffee, an unfamiliar man in a Savoy waistcoat approached the field accountant.
'Front desk, sir I have two messages.'
Canfield was alarmed. He reached for the notes extended to him. 'You could have had me paged.'
'Both parties requested that we not do that, sir.'
'I see. Thank you.'
The first message was from Derek. 'Imperative you contact me.'
The second was from Elizabeth Scarlatti. 'Please come to my suite at two thirty. It is most urgent. I cannot see you before then.'
Canfield lit one of his thin cigars and settled back into the curved Savoy dining chair. Derek could wait. The Englishman probably had gotten word of Benjamin Reynolds's new arrangement with the British government and was either furious or apologetic. He'd postpone Derek.
Scarlatti, on the other hand, had made a decision. If Janet was right, she was folding up. Forgetting for the moment his own potential loss, he could never explain her reversal to Reynolds, or Glover, or anyone else at Group Twenty, for that matter. He had spent thousands of dollars on the premise that he had Elizabeth's cooperation.
The field accountant thought about the old woman's visitor, the fourth marquis of Chatellerault, veteran of the Matterhorn and the Jungfrau, Jacques Louis Bertholde. Why had he broken into the Scarlatti suite the way he had? Was it simply the locked door and the knowledge that it would remain locked? Was it to terrify Elizabeth? Or was he searching for something?
Just as he and Derek had searched in the darkness two floors above.
Once confronting her what could Bertholde have said to bend her will. What could he possibly say that would frighten Elizabeth Scarlatti?
He could promise the death of her son if he were still alive. That might do it. But would it? Her son had betrayed her. Betrayed the Scarlatti Industries. Canfield had the unnatural feeling that Elizabeth would rather see her son dead than let him continue that betrayal.
Yet now she was retreating.
Again Canfield felt the inadequacy he had begun to feel aboard the Calpurnia. An assignment conceived of as theft had been complicated by extraordinary occurrences, extraordinary people.
He forced his mind back to Elizabeth Scarlatti. He was convinced she could 'not see' him before two thirty because she was completing arrangements to return home.
Well, he had a shock in store for her. He knew she had had an early morning visitor. And he had the Bertholde dossier.
The dossier she could refuse. The Alpine rig would be irresistible.
'I wrote in my note that I couldn't see you before two-thirty. Would you please respect my wishes?'
'It can't wait. Let me in quickly.'
She opened the door in disgust, leaving it ajar as she walked back into the center of the room. Canfield closed it loudly inserting the bolt. He spoke before she turned around to face him. 'I've read the dossier. I know now why your visitor didn't have to open the door.'
It was as if a pistol had been fired in front of her ancient face. The old woman turned and sprang her back forward and arched her neck. Had she been thirty years younger she would have leapt upon him in fury. She spoke with an intensity he had never heard from her before.
'You unconscionable bastard! You're a liar! A thief! Liar! Liar! I'll have you spend the rest of your life in prison.''
'That's very good. Attack for attack' You've pulled it before but not this time. Derek was with me. We found the rig. An Alpine rig, he called it - which your visitor let down the side of the building.'
The old woman lurched toward him unsteady on her feet.
'For Christ's sake, relax! I'm on your side. He held her thin shoulders.
'You've got to buy him! Oh, my God! You've got to buy him! Get him here!'
'Why? Buy him how? Who?'
'Derek. How long have you known? Mr Canfield