Death on the Pont Noir - By Adrian Magson Page 0,61

were somehow involved with an attempted assassination of the French head of state, Nialls might feel compelled to take the matter higher, running the risk of word getting out and driving the plotters underground.

‘I think there is a chance that these men, Tasker and his colleagues,’ he said carefully, ‘may be involved in something much bigger than their usual operations.’

‘Like what?’ Then Nialls’ eyes widened. ‘Good God, you don’t mean an attempt on—’

‘Perhaps. But not directly.’ There. It was out now and too late to take back. Nialls was clearly no fool. He’d instantly run his mind over all the various possibilities that he could think of, and had settled unerringly on the correct one.

‘Have you discussed this with your superiors?’

‘Some of it. But they are sceptical.’

‘Why? I mean, don’t misunderstand me, but there have been plenty of attempts on your man already, so it’ll hardly come as much of a shock to anyone if someone has another go … especially on the heels of the Kennedy assassination.’ The recent death of the American president was still headline news everywhere, and had caused many world leaders to review their security precautions.

‘They have already tried.’ Rocco told him about the latest attack on the N19 to the south-east of Paris, and how it had failed, allegedly because of bad information supplied to the gang. Even had de Gaulle been in the car, it might not have carried the same magnitude outside France as the killing of the US president John Kennedy in Dallas, Texas.

Nialls picked up on the failure of information. ‘You don’t think it was simply a mistake on the attackers’ part?’

‘I am not sure. So far, the information these groups have worked on has always been correct. The failures have come because of poor organisation, good defensive tactics by the bodyguards … or simply bad luck. Whichever group is involved, they do not seem to have much difficulty finding out what the president’s movements are.’

Nialls lifted an eyebrow. ‘Someone on the inside?’

‘Possibly. But I never said that.’ Roco knew all too well that it was next to impossible to keep everything secret. Word leaked out and there was always someone ready to trade on it.

‘Maybe this lot were more amateurish than the others.’

‘Maybe.’

‘But you don’t think so.’

He was sharp, Rocco decided. His policeman’s nose had picked up on Rocco’s hesitation and he had drawn his own conclusions.

‘I have been working with a representative of the presidential security team, but I want to be sure of my facts before I go any further.’

‘Very wise, although waiting might be risky, don’t you think, if there’s a plot afoot?’

‘Possibly. But we have time. That is all I can say.’

Nialls shrugged. ‘Fair enough. What do you want from me?’

Rocco was surprised. ‘You will help?’

‘As much as I can, yes. It depends what you need, though.’ Nialls smiled and explained, ‘I’m on my way out of here, due for retirement in a few weeks. It means I have a certain amount of leeway; nobody expects me to begin any new investigations or to be running around like a spring chicken. But you’ll have to be quick.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s talk of the complete file on Ketch and his people being handed over to another team.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I can’t say I’m too sorry, but I’d like to think I can do something useful before I go.’

‘Such as solving your train robbery?’ Britain’s biggest ever cash robbery had been carried out three months previously on a train transporting used banknotes due for incineration. So far they had come nowhere near finding out who had organised it.

Nialls grinned. ‘It would be a good one to go out on, wouldn’t it? But no, I don’t think I’ll get that one.’

‘Can you tell me anything about Tasker and his people? Calloway in particular – I am sure he has an important role in this. Who they know, who their contacts are in France.’

‘That last bit’s easy enough, especially with Tasker. He doesn’t have any contacts outside London. George Tasker’s a thug – a muscleman with enough brains to make him dangerous but with limited horizons. He’s like a sergeant in the military; he does what he’s told, passes on instructions, and chivvies the troops to do their bit.’ He lifted a hand in apology. ‘Sorry – “chivvies” means to encourage. Keep forgetting myself.’

‘I understood. But thank you for the explanation.’

‘Your English is impressive. How come?’

‘Thank you,’ said Rocco. ‘My mother insisted. She felt the world was becoming smaller