The Scarlatti Inheritance(96)
Elizabeth Scarlatti sat across the room on the Victorian couch, absorbed in the Bertholde dossier. At the sound of Derek’s voice she looked up at the Englishman. He was staring at her. He spoke again into the phone.
“Yes. He left here roughly at three thirty. With Ferguson, from our office. They were to meet Mrs. Scarlett at Tippin’s and he was to proceed from there to Bertholde’s.… I don’t know. His instructions were that she remain in Ferguson’s custody until he returned. Ferguson’s to call in.… I see. For heaven’s sake, keep me posted. I’ll phone you if there’re any developments here.”
He replaced the telephone receiver on the hook and remained at the table. “Bertholde’s been killed.”
“Good God! Where’s my daughter?”
“With our man. She’s all right. He reported in an hour ago.”
“Canfield! Where’s Canfield?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Is he all right?”
“How can I answer that if I don’t know where he is? We can presume he’s functioning. He identified himself as me and left the scene!”
“How did it happen?”
“He was garroted. A wire around his throat.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth suddenly, vividly recalled the picture of Matthew Canfield thrusting the cord in her face after Boothroyd’s attempt on her life aboard the Calpurnia. “If he killed him, he must have had a reason!”
“What?”
“For killing him. He must have had to!”
“That’s most interesting.”
“What is?”
“That you would think Canfield had to kill him.”
“It couldn’t have happened otherwise! He’s no killer.”
“He didn’t kill Bertholde either, if it’s any comfort to you.”
Her relief was visible. “Do they know who did?”
“They believe so. Apparently it was Bertholde’s chauffeur.”
“That’s odd.”
“Very. The man’s been with him for years.”
“Perhaps Canfield’s gone after him.”
“Not likely. The man left some ten to twelve minutes before they found Bertholde.”
James Derek walked from the telephone table toward Elizabeth. It was obvious that he was upset. “In the light of what’s just happened, I’d like to ask you a question. But, of course, you needn’t answer.…”
“What is it?”
“I’d like to know how—or perhaps why—Mr. Canfield received a full clearance from the British Foreign Office.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Come, madame. If you don’t care to answer, I respect that. But since my name’s been used in the killing of an influential man, I believe I’m entitled to something more than another … falsehood.”
“Another … falsehood? That’s insulting, Mr. Derek.”
“Is it? And are you and Mr. Canfield still setting elaborate traps for embassy personnel who returned to the United States over four months ago?”
“Oh.” Elizabeth sat down again on the couch. She was not concerned with the Englishman’s complaint; she only wished Canfield was there to answer him. What she was concerned with was the agent’s reference to the Foreign Office. “An unfortunate necessity.”
“Most unfortunate.… I gather, then, that you don’t care to answer.”
“On the contrary, I have answered you.” Elizabeth looked up at the Britisher. “I wish you’d explain. What is full clearance?”
“Extraordinary cooperation from the highest echelons of our government. And such decisions from the British Foreign Office are generally reserved for major political crises! Not a stocks-and-bonds struggle between squabbling millionaires.… Or, if you’ll pardon me, a private citizen’s personal tragedy.”
Elizabeth Scarlatti froze.
What James Derek had just said was abhorrent to the head of Scarlatti. More than anything else she had to operate outside the boundaries of “highest echelon” scrutiny. For the sake of Scarlatti itself. Canfield’s minor agency had seemed heaven-sent. Her arrangement with him gave her the facilities of official cooperation without answering to anyone of consequence. If she had wanted it otherwise, she would have commanded any number of men in either or both the legislative and executive branches of the United States government. It would not have been difficult.… Now, it seemed, Canfield’s relatively unimportant department had grown in significance. Or perhaps her son had involved himself in an undertaking far more ominous than she had conceived.
Was the answer in the Bertholde dossier? Elizabeth wondered. “I gather from your tone that this full clearance is a new development.”