Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

“I’ll begin,” he said, “with a general comment. I’ve been doing some further research into Harvey Metcalfe’s movements over the next few months. He seems to spend every summer doing the same round of social and sporting events. Most of the details are already well documented in your files. My latest findings are summarized on this separate sheet which should be added as page 38A of your dossiers. It reads:

Harvey Metcalfe will arrive in England on the morning of June 21st on board the Q.E. 2, docking at Southampton. He has already reserved the Trafalgar Suite for his crossing and booked a Rolls Royce from Guy Salmon to take him to Claridge’s. He will stay there for two weeks in the Royal Suite and he has his own debenture tickets for every day of the Wimbledon Championships. When they are over he flies to Monte Carlo to stay on his yacht Messenger Boy for another two weeks. He then returns to London and Claridge’s to see his filly, Rosalie, run in the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes. He has a private box at Ascot for all five days of Ascot Week. He returns to America on a Pan American jumbo jet from London Heathrow on Ju

ly 29th, flight no. 009 at 11:15 to Logan International Airport, Boston.”

The others attached page 38A to their dossiers, aware once again how much detailed research Stephen had undertaken. James was beginning to feel ill, and it certainly was not the excellent salmon sandwiches that were causing his discomfort.

“The next decision to be taken,” said Stephen, “is to allocate the times during Metcalfe’s trip to Europe when each plan will be put into operation. Robin, which section would you prefer?”

“Monte Carlo,” said Robin without hesitation. “I need to catch the bastard off his home ground.”

“Anyone else want Monte Carlo?”

Nobody spoke.

“Which would you prefer, Jean-Pierre?”

“I’d like Wimbledon fortnight.”

“Any other takers?”

Again, nobody spoke. Stephen continued:

“I’m keen to have the Ascot slot myself and the short time before he returns to America. What about you, James?”

“It won’t make any difference what period I have,” said James rather sheepishly.

“Right,” said Stephen.

Everybody, except James, seemed to be warming to the exercise.

“Now expenses. Have all of you brought your checks for $10,000? I think it’s wise to think in dollars as that was the currency Harvey Metcalfe worked in.”

Each member of the Team passed over a check to Stephen. At least, thought James, this is something I can do as well as the others.

“Expenses to date?”

Each passed a chit to Stephen again and he began to work out figures on his stylish little HP 65 calculator, the digits glowing red in the dimly lit room.

“The shares cost us $1 million. Expenses to date are $142, so Mr. Metcalfe is in debt to us to the tune of $1,000,142. Not a penny more and not a penny less,” he repeated. “Now to our individual plans. We will take them in the order of execution.” Stephen was pleased with that word. “Jean-Pierre, Robin, myself and finally James. The floor is yours, Jean-Pierre.”

Jean-Pierre opened a large envelope and took out four sets of documents. He was determined to show that he had the measure of Stephen as well as of Harvey Metcalfe. He handed around photographs and road maps of the West End and Mayfair. Each street was marked with a number, indicating how many minutes it took to walk. Jean-Pierre explained his plan in great detail, starting with the crucial meeting he had had with David Stein, and ending with the roles the others would have to carry out.

“All of you will be needed on the day. Robin will be the journalist, James the representative from Sotheby’s, and Stephen, you will act as the purchaser. You must practice speaking English with a German accent. I shall also require two tickets for the whole of Wimbledon fortnight on the Centre Court opposite Harvey Metcalfe’s debenture box.”

Jean-Pierre consulted his notes.

“That is to say, opposite box No. 17. Can you arrange that, James?”

“No problem. I’ll have a word with Mike Gibson, the Club referee, in the morning.”

“Good. Finally, then, you must all learn to operate these little boxes of tricks. They are called Pye Pocketfones and don’t forget that the use and ownership of them are illegal.”

Jean-Pierre produced four miniature sets and handed three to Stephen.

“Any questions?”

There was a general murmur of approval. There were going to be no loose ends in Jean-Pierre’s plan.