The Gigantic Shadow by Julian Symons Page B

Westmark’s hands he could in any case cheat Hunter if he wanted to do so. On the other hand, Westmark had no means of knowing that Hunter would not return to England. All this passed through his mind while he said, ‘My name is Smith.’
    Westmark shrugged.
    ‘I trust you. But I ought to add that I have friends here who will look after my interests.’
    Westmark said gently, ‘Mutual trust should exclude threats, Mr Smith. Come to me when you are ready. You will always find me here, with my Madeira and my kitten.’
    The taste of Madeira was in Hunter’s mouth, and the spicy fruit cake smell strong in his nostrils as he left the flat.

Chapter Sixteen
    On the following day he had discovered a flaw in their plans, a flaw of such dimensions that it made him doubt the whole conception. If they could fail to notice such a mistake as this, perhaps another error, equally vast, was yawning elsewhere in the plot. This was the flaw. When they left the country after collecting the money, Anthea would have to show her passport. Obviously they could not run the considerable risk that a customs official would recognise her photograph or remember her name.
    When he told Anthea the problem, she said scornfully, ‘But it’s simple.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘We just go on one of those day trips, Boulogne or wherever it is, the trips on which you don’t need passports. Then we skip off at Boulogne and just vanish.’
    ‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘You don’t understand. There’s going to be a hell of a fuss about your disappearance, even if your father doesn’t eventually tell the police. Anything out of the way is going to be checked. Two people vanishing off a day trip – not just missing the boat and coming back next day, but disappearing altogether – is something out of the way. Who were the people, what did they look like? Once they’ve got that far, it’s goodbye.’
    ‘I don’t see why you say that. Daddy would never prosecute.’
    ‘It’s no good.’
    ‘We could move from place to place, so that they didn’t catch up with us. We’d have enough money.’
    ‘No.’
    They were in the hotel bedroom. She sat gloomily contemplating her legs, which were stuck out in front of her. ‘That’s it, then.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘You don’t want to take the risk. I expect you’re right. So the whole thing’s no good.’
    It was very much what he had been about to say himself, but that she should say it was disconcerting. It was rather as though she were saying goodbye, not merely to the kidnap plot but to him as well. He was driven to words he had not at all intended. ‘It may not be as bad as that.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘We might think of something,’ he said weakly. But her imagination, which was so quickly damped, just as quickly caught alight again. ‘Do you mean you could do something about it? Get mine altered – or get another?’
    That was precisely, he knew, what he could do, although it was an idea that he had not previously allowed himself to consider. Ten years in prison had left him with a great deal of knowledge which he never used – where to get a burglar’s kit, which fences handled which kinds of stuff. Like most men who have done a long stretch he had also developed a special sensibility to stool pigeons. He knew that false passports could be obtained, at something between twenty and fifty pounds a time, and he could easily find out where to get them. But he did not want to admit this knowledge. Certainly he did not want to use it.
    ‘I suppose I could see a few people. Or we might think of something else.’
    She ignored the second sentence. ‘That would be marvellous. Could I come too?’
    ‘Certainly not. But we shall need a passport photograph. You’d better get one taken.’
    ‘What fun.’ She looked at his gloomy face. ‘Isn’t it fun?’
    ‘No. It’s just something that has to be done. Don’t think that I like doing it.’
    ‘Poor Bill. But I’ll make it up to