Bolt - By Dick Francis Page 0,95

over my paintwork. It might be a good idea at this point to bring in the police.’

The others looked impassive because they knew I didn’t want to, but Nanterre suddenly tugged frantically at Sammy’s securely tied knots.

‘There’s an alternative,’ I said.

Nanterre, still struggling under Sammy’s interested gaze, said, ‘What alternative?’ furiously.

‘Tell us why you came here tonight, and what you put in my car.’

‘Tell you …’

‘Yes. Tell us.’

He was a stupid man, essentially. He said violently, ‘Beatrice must have warned you. That cow. She got frightened and told you …’ He glared at me with concentration. ‘All that stood between me and my millions was de Brescou’s signature and you … you … everywhere, in my way.’

‘So you decided on a little bomb, and pouf, no obstructions?’

‘You made me,’ he shouted. ‘You drove me … If you were dead, he would sign.’

I let a moment go by, then I said, ‘We talked to the man who gave your message to Prince Litsi at Bradbury. He picked you out from a photograph. We have his signed statement.’

Nanterre said viciously, ‘I saw your advertisement. If Prince Litsi had died, no one would have known of the message.’

‘Did you mean him to die?’

‘Live, die, I didn’t care. To frighten him, yes. To get de Brescou to sign.’ He tried ineffectually still to unravel his bonds. ‘Let me go.’

I went instead into the garage where I’d waited and came out again with the big envelope of signed documents.

‘Stop struggling,’ I said to Nanterre, ‘and listen carefully.’

He paid little attention.

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘or I fetch the police.’

He said sullenly then that he was listening.

‘The price of your freedom,’ I said, ‘is that you put your signature to these contracts.’

‘What are they?’ he said furiously, looking at their impressive appearance. ‘What contracts?’

‘They change the name of the de Brescou et Nanterre construction company to the Gascony construction company, and they constitute an agreement between the two equal owners to turn the private company into a public company, and for each owner to put his entire holding up for public sale.’

He was angrily and bitterly astounded.

‘The company is mine … I manage it … I will never agree!’

‘You’ll have to,’ I said prosaically.

I produced the small tape recorder from the pocket of my jacket, pressed the rewind button slightly, and started it playing.

Nanterre’s voice came out clearly ‘Live, die, I didn’t care. To frighten him, yes. To get de Brescou to sign.’

I switched off. Nanterre, incredibly, was silent, remembering, perhaps, the other incriminating things he had said.

‘We have the evidence of the messenger at Bradbury,’ I said. ‘We have your voice on this tape. We have your bomb, I suspect, in my car. You’ll sign the contract, you know.’

‘There’s no bomb in your car,’ he said furiously.

‘Perhaps a firework?’ I said.

He looked at me blankly.

‘Someone’s coming into the mews,’ Thomas said urgently, producing the handkerchief. ‘What do we do?’ A car had driven in, coming home to its garage.

‘If you yell,’ I said to Nanterre with menace, ‘the police will be here in five minutes and you’ll regret it … They’re not kind to people who plant bombs in cars.’

The incoming car drove towards us and stopped just before reaching Sammy’s white hiding place. The people got out, opened their garage, drove in, closed the doors, and looked our way dubiously.

‘Goodnight,’ I called out, full of cheer.

‘Goodnight,’ they replied, reassured, and walked away to the street.

‘Right,’ I said, relaxing, ‘time to sign.’

‘I will not sell the company. I will not.’

I said patiently, ‘You have no alternative except going to prison for attempting to murder both Prince Litsi and myself.’

He still refused to face facts: and perhaps he felt as outraged at being coerced to sign against his will as Roland had done.

I brought the car-starting gadget out of my pocket and explained what it was.

Nanterre at last began to shake, and Litsi, Sammy and Thomas backed away from the car in freshly awakened genuine alarm, as if really realising for the first time what was in there, under the bonnet.

‘It’ll be lonely for you,’ I said to Nanterre. ‘We’ll walk to the end of the mews, leaving you here. Prince Litsi and the other two will go away. When they’re safely back in the house in Eaton Square, I’ll press the switch that starts my engine.’

Litsi, Sammy and Thomas had already retreated a good way along the mews.

‘You’ll die by your own bomb,’ I said, and put into my voice and manner every shred of force and