“So you work for England?”
“For the time being, yes, but I direct my own inquiries.”
“By the way,” said Watkins, “Altamont says—”
“That will do,” Lupa said abruptly. “Let us get on with your information.”
“Yes, well, um . . .” He fumbled a moment, then leaned over and spit out the pits. “We’ve got information that he is not here for assassination. You’re aware of the arms and munitions factory at St. Etienne?”
Lupa’s gaze was withering.
Watkins pressed on. “It’s going to be blown.”
I found myself smiling. “How do you know?”
“One of the boys flushed a Kraut spy and persuaded him to drop a few tidbits, and this was one of them. Unfortunately, our man brought some friends. They all got a bit carried away during the interrogation, and the Kraut died before he could be of much more use.”
Lupa looked at me. “And they say that we are fighting the barbarians.” To Watkins: “Did you get any descriptions, anything definite?”
“Not of your man, no. But there was something.”
“What was that?”
“It’s to be an inside job.”
I laughed, and the man looked at me angrily.
“What’s funny, mate?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but it would have to be. Have you seen the place? It’s guarded rather completely.”
Lupa was absently running his fingers through some dirt in a pot next to him. He seemed lethargically calm until he spoke, at which time he fired his questions at the other man.
“Where was he caught?”
“Marseilles. Usual narcotics stuff. He was delivering to their man in St. Etienne.”
“Why didn’t the fools let him deliver?”
“I think you’ve answered your own question. The fool—that is, our man—wanted to make sure he didn’t escape. They knew something big was going on in this area. He wanted to get a piece of it.”
“And lose the pie in the bargain.” Lupa was annoyed, and I could see why.
“One other thing bothers me,” Watkins said.
“What’s that?”
“I think he is here to assassinate. That is patently a part of it. Remember, we have had—what is it now?—three deaths of operatives in the past year. It’s just a hypothesis, but it is corroborated by the lack of any other overt activity until he moves. That’s all. Of course, no clues. But the man must sooner or later make a mistake. He must.”
He shrugged and reached into his pocket for some more olives. Someone walked into the store and Anna went to the front. Lupa pulled up a stool and sat down. He seemed completely engrossed in the plant beside him. Suddenly he looked up and spoke.
