Free The Last Match by David Dodge Page A

that beach sand and heavy Mediterranean seawater must have cost them a pretty penny, as I pointed out during the negotiations. But we finally agreed on a percentage, a pitch and an advance; the first cash I’d had in my pocket since spending my all for cigarettes in Tangier. It was an odd feeling, to have a bit of pognon in the poche once again. I liked it. That it was crooked money didn’t bother me a bit.
    The pitch was simple enough, provided the pigeon was as simple as he had been made to sound. Bernard promised to produce an outfit of decent clothes, American clothes, and a set of fake papers to identify me as an agent of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission. After that M. l’Inspecteur Bernard of the Sûreté Nationale would present me to M. le Marquis, very hush-hush and off the record. Behind locked doors and closed blinds where we could not be overheard by lurking Soviet spies I would tell M. le Marquis that we—meaning the AEC—had heard of his noble efforts single-handedly to contain the flood of Communism in Europe. We wanted to congratulate him for his public-mindedness, patriotism and selfless dedication to a worthy cause. However, I was the bearer of what might prove to be disturbing news to M. le Marquis. The AEC was now in control of an entirely new type of bomb involving the fission-fusion of the hydrogen atom. (Fission-fusion was my own invention. It had a fine scientific ring.) The new bomb was so incredibly more powerful than the old uranium firecracker that the old one was now obsolete. Generalissimo Franco, the customer M. le Marquis was counting on to take his packages off his hands after so many unhappy delays, was even then, like the French government, negotiating with the AEC for the new super-weapon. It was highly improbable that the Generalissimo would now be inclined to purchase M. le Marquis’ private stockpile as well even if the Spanish national treasury could stand the burden of the further expenditure on top of the high cost of the super-bomb. In the circumstances, it looked very much as if M. le Marquis might be going to have to eat his expensive collection. M. l’Inspecteur shared my regret but was equally helpless to do anything about M. le Marquis’ predicament. Unless, of course, hem, hem, I couldn’t say for sure, but it was barely possible—
    Bernard and I rehearsed the whole pitch until we had it down cold. The gaff was to go in only after M. le Mark had been allowed to bleed in agony for a few minutes, although if he held still for it even then he was a bigger chump than I had been promised. I would suggest that the AEC just might possibly be persuaded to take his inventory off his hands for what he had invested in it. M. le Marquis would receive a dollar credit for this amount with the U.S. Treasury, and would be free to negotiate as he chose with Generalissimo Franco for the credit. As so shrewd a businessman as M. le Marquis surely knew, Spain was not a rich country, nor was its currency highly regarded on world markets. To acquire the large number of dollars necessary for the super-bomb purchase, the Generalissimo would necessarily have to buy dollars wherever he could find dollars and at whatever price he was required to pay for them. As M. le Marquis would further easily perceive—
    Bernard was to weigh in here with indignant objections on behalf of la belle France. His country was also negotiating for the super-bomb, also stood in need of dollars, and also suffered from a weak and unstable currency. Surely a patriot like M. le Marquis would not turn his back on his own patrie to do business with a lousy nigaud like Franco when he could profitably sell his dollars right there at home. M. l’Inspecteur would personally guarantee a far better price in francs; a return of at least fifty percent on M. le Marquis’ entire investment.
    Bernard was to get quite worked up about the possibility that the marquis might do business with Franco when la belle France needed the