“How much extra will he cost?”

“A thousand pounds sterling.”

“In dinars or dollars?”

“In dollars.”

Shannon thought it over. It might be the truth, or it might be that Baker was trying to squeeze a bit more out of him. If it was the truth, refusing to pay would simply force Baker to pay the Yugoslav out of his own cut. That would reduce Baker’s margin to such a small amount he might lose interest in the deal, not caring whether it went through or not. And he still needed Baker, and would need him until he saw the white wake of the Toscana heading out of Ploce harbor on her way to Spain.

“All right,” he said. “Who is this partner?”

“Fellow called Ziljak. He’s out there now, taking care of the shipment right up to Ploce and into the warehouse there. When the ship comes in, he’ll get the stuff from the warehouse through customs and onto the boat.”

“I thought that was your job.”

“It is, but now I have to engage a Yugoslav as partner. Honestly, Cat, they left me no alternative.”

“Then I’ll pay him personally, in travelers’ checks.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Baker.

“Why not?”

“The buyers of this shipment are supposed to be the government of Togo, right? Black men. Another white turns up, obviously the paymaster, and they might begin to smell a rat. We can go to Ploce, if you like, or I can go alone. But if you want to come with me, you’ll have to come ostensibly as my assistant. Besides, travelers’ checks have to be cashed at a bank, and in Yugoslavia that means they take the man’s name and identity-card number. If someone cashing them is a Yugoslav, there are questions asked. It would be better if Ziljak got cash, as he has asked.”

“All right, I’ll cash some checks here in Hamburg, and I’ll pay him in dollar bills,” said Shannon. “But you get yours in checks. I’m not carrying vast sums of dollars in cash around. Not to Yugoslavia. They get sensitive about that sort of thing. Security gets interested. They think you’re funding a spy operation. So we go as tourists with travelers’ checks.”

“Fine by me,” said Baker. “When do you want to go?”

Shannon glanced at his watch. The next day would be June 1.

“Day after tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll fly to Dubrovnik and have a week in the sun. I could do with a rest anyway. Or you can join me on the eighth or ninth, but not a day later. I’ll hire a car, and we can drive up the coast to Ploce on the tenth. I’ll have the Toscana come in that night or early on the morning of the eleventh.”

“You go on alone,” said Baker. “I have work to do in Hamburg. I’ll join you on the eighth.”

“Without fail,” said Shannon. “If you don’t turn up, I’ll come looking. And I’ll be hopping mad.”

“I’ll come,” said Baker. “I still want the balance of my money, don’t forget. So far, I’m out of pocket on this deal. I want it to go through just as much as you.”

That was the way Shannon wanted him to feel.

“You do have the money, I suppose?” asked Baker, fingering a lump of sugar.

Shannon flicked through a booklet of large-denomination dollar checks under Baker’s nose. The arms dealer smiled.

They left the table and on the way out used the restaurant telephone to call a Hamburg charter company specializing in package tours for the thousands of Germans who vacation along the Adriatic coast. From this company they learned the names of the three best hotels in the Yugoslav resort. Baker was told he would find Shannon in one of them under the name of Keith Brown.

Johann Schlinker was as confident as Baker that he could fulfill his arms deal, though he had no idea that Baker was also doing business with Shannon. No doubt the men knew of each other, might even be acquainted, but there would not be a question of discussing each other’s business together.

“The port should be Valencia, though this has yet to be fixed and is in any case the choice of the Spanish authorities,” he told Shannon. “Madrid tells me the dates have to be between the sixteenth and twentieth of June.”

“I’d prefer the twentieth for loading,” said Shannon.

“The Toscana should be permitted to berth on or during the night of the nineteenth and load in the morning.”

“Good,” said Schlinker. “I’ll inform my Madrid partner. He habitually handles the transporting and loading side of things, and employs a first-class freight agent in Valencia who knows all the customs personnel very well. There should be no problem.”

“There must be no problem,” growled Shannon. “The ship has been delayed already once, and by loading on the twentieth I have enough sailing time but no margin to fulfill my own contract.”

It was not true, but he saw no reason why Schlinker should not believe it was true.

“I shall want to watch the loading also,” he told the arms dealer.

Schlinker pursed his lips. “You may watch it from afar, of course,” he said. “I cannot stop you. But as the customers are supposed to be an Arab government, you cannot propose yourself as the buyer of the merchandise.”

“I also want to board the ship at Valencia,” said Shannon.

“That will be even harder. The whole port is sealed off inside a chain-link fence. Entry is by authority only. To board the ship you would have to go through passport control. Also, as she will be carrying ammunition, there will be a Guardia Civil at the bottom of the gangplank.”

“Supposing the captain needed another crewman. Could he engage a seaman locally?”

Schlinker thought it over. “I suppose so. Are you connected with the company owning the vessel?”

“Not on paper,” said Shannon.

“If the captain informed the agent on arrival that he had permitted one of his crewmen to leave the vessel at its last port of call to fly home and attend his mother’s funeral, and that the ”crewman would be rejoining the vessel at Valencia, I suppose there would be no objection. But you would need a merchant seaman’s card to prove you were a seaman. And in the same name as yourself, Mr. Brown."

Shannon thought for a few minutes. “Okay. I’ll fix it.”

Schlinker consulted his diary. “As it happens, I shall be in Madrid on the nineteenth and twentieth,” he said. “I have another business deal to attend to. I shall be at the Mindanao Hotel. If you want to contact me, you can find me there. If loading is for the twentieth, the chances are the convoy and escort from the Spanish army will run the shipment down to the coast during the night of the nineteenth to arrive at crack of dawn. If you are going to board the ship at all, I think you should do so before the military convoy arrives at the docks.”

“I could be in Madrid on the nineteenth,” said Shannon. “Then I could check with you that the convoy had indeed left on time. By driving fast to Valencia, I could be there ahead of it, and board the Toscana as the rejoining seaman before the convoy arrives.”

“That is entirely up to you,” said Schlinker. “For my part, I will have my agents arrange the freighting, transportation, and loading, according to all the normal procedures, for dawn of the twentieth. That is what I contracted to do. If there is any risk attached to your boarding the vessel in harbor, that must be your affair. I cannot take the responsibility for that. I can only point out that ships carrying arms out of Spain are subjected to scrutiny by the army and customs authorities. If anything goes wrong with the loading and ’ clearance of the ship to sail, because of you, that is not my responsibility. One other thing. After loading arms a ship must leave a Spanish port within six hours, and may not re-enter Spanish waters until the cargo has been offloaded. Also, the manifest must be in perfect order.”

“It will be,” said Shannon. “I’ll be with you in Madrid on the morning of the nineteenth.”

Before leaving Toulon, Kurt Semmler had given Shannon a letter to mail. It was from Semmler to the Toscana’s shipping agents in Genoa. It informed them there had been a slight change of plan, and that the Toscana would be proceeding from Toulon not directly to Morocco but first to Brindisi to pick up further cargo. The order, Semmler informed the agents, had been secured locally by him in Toulon and was lucrative, since it was a rush order, whereas the consignment of mixed cargo from Toulon to Morocco was in no hurry. As managing director of Spinetti Maritime, Semmler’s instructions were those of the boss. He required the Genoa agents to cable Brindisi reserving a berth for June 7 and 8, and to instruct the port office to hold any mail addressed to the Toscana for collection when she berthed.