The Tide Can't Wait by Louis Trimble Read Free Book Online

vanished from the British Isles. His plane was where he kept it, untampered with. There was no sign of Snyder having been there recently, and no one had seen him in his usual haunts. After returning to London and finding out from Stark that Snyder had not been seen in his apartment or anywhere else of late, Barr put the search into high gear by including some of his “friends.” To date, there had been no results. He had just one remaining hope, and he voiced it now.
    â€œThere’s a bare chance that he’s playing antiquarian and is potting about some obscure ruins, waiting for a chance to get back unobserved. I can’t imagine, though, what he could be hiding from. Hardly Roget.”
    â€œYou underestimate Roget,” Stark said, “because you’ve never seen him in action. Neither have I, but I’ve heard stories …”
    â€œLike his sending an incompetent, terror-stricken refugee like Helgos to kill me off?”
    â€œMaybe killing you off wasn’t as important as putting you off balance,” Stark said.
    Barr grinned.
“Touché.”
    Stark said, “Snyder’s too dependable a man not to have made some kind of contact with us, Rob. I’m afraid there’s another answer.”
    Barr disliked thinking it. It was not the answer either of them liked. He said, “If only we could get something out of that Helgos—but he doesn’t seem to know much of anything. He’s willing to talk but what he says isn’t worth a damn.”
    â€œHe could be holding out, or lying.”
    Barr shook his head. Helgos hadn’t been lying, he was sure. Roget for once had been—to a point—clever. He had not made contact with Helgos himself but had sent someone else. A rugged-looking, very blond man, Helgos had said. He gave Helgos orders in acceptable French. No, Helgos didn’t know what nationality he was, although from his French accent, his native language seemed to be English.
    Barr said wryly, “So we look for an American, an Englishman, a Canadian …”
    â€œAn Australian, New Zealander, or even a South African,” Stark said humorlessly. “And a few other kinds, too. Or do we just run around and pick up every rugged-looking blond male in England?”
    â€œNo,” Barr said. “But we might turn Helgos loose and see if he can lead us to the man.”
    â€œIf he knows how to find him,” Stark said.
    Barr swore at him. Stark was a stickler for detail and order, but a possible coup was beyond his scope.
    â€œI’ll get Johnny Griggs to tail Helgos.”
    â€œAnd what do
we
do?” Stark asked. “Keep on sight-seeing?”
    Barr got up and went to a telephone booth and made two calls. The first was to Johnny Griggs and it took him three numbers before he located his man. Johnny Griggs was an Englishman, a product of London originally, but a depression and a war had given him the opportunity to travel and he knew his home islands well. He also knew the inside of several prisons. Ostensibly he made a living as a racing bookkeeper’s pencil man, but Barr had never seen a pencil man who lived as opulently—if as tastelessly—as Johnny Griggs.
    He finally located Griggs in one of London’s less reputable clubs. “Barr here. Busy?”
    Griggs’ inevitable answer: “What do you think, Governor?” came out as always, “Wot do you fink, Guv’ner?”
    Barr was succinct. “There’s a man I want followed.” He described Helgos minutely. “He’ll be coming out of the Sloane Square tube station with two men in about an hour. They’ll turn him loose. I want to find out whom he contacts.” He gave Griggs the description he had of the blond man and also of Roget. “I’m most interested in those two,” he went on. “Especially the blond. If Helgos does contact him, drop Helgos and go after the blond. You can reach me through