Streaking Read Online Free PDF Page B

minutes.”
    â€œI don’t have time to talk to the police,” Canny told him. “Can you put me through to Henri Meurdon at the casino.”
    â€œYes, Monsieur.”
    Meurdon was just as quick to reply. “Henri?” Canny said. “It’s Canavan Kilcannon. I think you might have a spotter in the casino—or might have had when I left. When I got back to my hotel there was someone waiting to relieve me of my winnings. Nobody knew I had them till five or ten minutes before I cashed up, so they must have worked very fast indeed. Check your tapes to see if anyone left within the last half hour—and take a close look at the crowd around the roulette table. You might be able to identify him, or at least narrow the field. I can’t hang around—I’ll have to leave it with you.”
    â€œI shall take care of it, Monsieur,” was all the Meurdon said. “You will get your money back, if it is humanly possible.” There was no surprise in his voice, just grim concern—but that was part of his standard performance, and what Canny had just told him hadn’t been nearly sufficient to shock him out of it.
    Canny didn’t waste time wondering whether it might have been Meurdon who had tipped off the thief. Even if everything the manager had earlier said to Canny about being delighted to see him win had been so much bullshit, Meurdon couldn’t afford to get involved in anything so stupidly brutal. He couldn’t have people lurking in his casino to tip off muggers, either. Forty-seven thousand was a very tiny sum compared to the losses he might sustain if a rumor like that got around; it wasn’t as if he was short of competition in Monte Carlo.
    â€œDon’t worry about the money, Henri,” Canny told him. “I just thought you’d appreciate the warning, in case you do have a snake in the grass. I hope it’s a false alarm.”
    â€œMerci, Monsieur.”
    Canny rang off and resumed getting dressed. The most important thing of all, he thought, was not to let the unfortunate incident disrupt his plans too badly. It would be adding insult to injury if he were to miss Lissa Lo’s boat, and not just because it would save him ten or twelve hours by comparison with Air France’s flight to Heathrow and its British Midland connection.
    He carried the suitcase down the stairs; it wasn’t heavy enough now to require the elevator, although it felt a little better once he’d added the items he’d stored in the hotel safe. He signed the account and the credit card slip.
    â€œThe intruder was about five-four—sorry I can’t do that in metric—and slimly built,” he said. “That’s all I can tell you, except for what I said before. The lock on my balcony door hasn’t been forced, although I can’t be certain that he wasn’t in the room before I opened it. You might want to check the wall and the balustrade, in case he left anything behind when he was climbing up.”
    â€œWhat did he take, Monsieur?” the night-manager asked, insouciantly.
    â€œNothing of any importance,” Canny said. “I might have disturbed him, panicked him into running before he’d had a chance to go through my stuff and move on to other rooms. The bag wasn’t mine—it belonged to the casino.”
    â€œAh oui,” said the night-manager, nodding his head. “Monsieur Meurdon will doubtless take his own steps to recover it.”
    â€œApologize to the police on my behalf,” Canny said. “Explain about my father. I have to get down to the quay before the boat leaves, or I’ll lose half a day. That could be the difference between seeing him once more and....”
    â€œI understand, Monsieur,” the manager assured him. “I will take care of everything. Good luck, Monsieur.”
    Canny thanked him, and hurried out. The cab pulled away from the curb just as the police car