This is For Real Read Free

studying in his driving mirror a black Citroen car that had been sitting on his tail now for the past three minutes. The driver had his hat pulled down to hide his face and he sat hunched behind the driving wheel. Girland abruptly swung the Fiat into a narrow street, leaving the boulevard and accelerated. He watched the Citroen swing into the street after him. He interrupted what Rossland was about to say. “I think we’re being tailed, Harry.”
    Rossland immediately became alert. He looked back over his shoulder at the cruising Citroen.
    “Could be wrong. Let’s see if we can lose him,” Girland went on.
    He turned right at the next intersection, drove down a one-way street, made narrow by parked cars, then turned right again where he was forced to stop at the traffic lights.
    The black Citroen crawled to a stop some ten feet behind him.
    “Don’t look around,” Girland said, peering into the driving mirror. “He’s still with us.” He drove on as the lights changed to green. “I’ll stop and fix him.”
    “No! Let him alone. I want to talk to you,” Rossland said sharply. “You keep driving. He can’t hear what we’re saying.”
    Girland shrugged. He drove in silence for a few minutes, then crossed Pont Sully and turned down Quai d’Anjou. When he had driven half way down the Quai, he saw the Citroen crawling after him. Ahead of him, a car pulled out from the line of tightly parked cars and went roaring down the Quai.
    Girland swung the little car into the vacant space, stopped and turned off the engine.
    “Now, let’s see what he’ll do.”
    The driver of the Citroen abruptly accelerated and swept past them without looking in their direction. At the end of the Quai, the car turned right and disappeared into the fast moving traffic crossing Port Marie.
    “That’s got rid of him for the moment,” Girland said and lit a cigarette. “What’s all this about? How did you get yourself tailed, Harry? He was after you; not me.”
    Rossland looked worried.
    “I was tailed by a young punk with a beard. I lost him in the Métro. Looks like there were two tails.”
    Girland grimaced.
    “You ought to know there are always two tails: one working in front, the other behind.”
    “You telling me this guy tailed me in the Métro in a goddamn Citroen?” Rossland demanded angrily.
    “Another stooge was the front man. He saw you waiting for me. He telephoned this guy in the Citroen and he was ready for us when I arrived.” Girland said with offensive patience. “But never mind. What’s it all about?”
    “This morning Dorey had a telephone call from a woman who calls herself Madame Foucher,” Rossland said. “She claims to have something to sell. Dorey doesn’t know if it is a hoax or not. She hinted she might approach others. He wants to be sure she isn’t a nut. She wants to meet someone who’ll discuss price and so on. Dorey has dropped this into my lap. I’m dropping it into yours. It’s simple enough. She’ll be at ‘Allo, Paris’ at eleven o’clock tonight. I want you to contact her and find out what she has to offer and what she wants for it.”
    “What’s the rest of it?”
    “That’s all. You’ll have to decide whether or not she does have anything worth buying. Don’t commit us to anything. This first meeting is merely exploratory.”
    “But why bring me into it? Why don’t you handle it yourself, Harry? It sounds right up your alley.”
    Rossland went through the routine of shaking out a cigarette from a crumpled pack and lighting it, before he said, “I always keep to the sidelines. That’s why I’m useful to Dorey.”
    “You know something?” Girland said seriously. “You’re now as useful to Dorey as a hole in the head. Why don’t you grow up? This isn’t a hoax, sonny boy: this is for real. She’s already talked to others and they’re watching their interests. They’re on to you and they’re now on to me, thanks to your dumbness. You’ve led them direct to me.