The Day of the Jackal

By nine o'clock the bodyguard was in the post office and asked for a telephone number in London. It took twenty minutes before the telephone at the other end began to ring. The switchboard operator gestured the Frenchman to a cabin to take the call. He picked up the receiver as the operator put hers down, and listened to the bzzz-bzzz… pause… buzz-bzzz of an English telephone ringing.

The Jackal rose early that morning, for he had much to do. The three main suitcases he had checked and re-packed the previous evening. Only the hand-grip remained to be topped up with his sponge bag and shaving tackle. He drank his habitual two cups of coffee, washed, showered and shaved. After packing the remainder of the overnight toiletries he closed up the hand luggage and stored all four pieces by the door.

He made himself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, orange juice and more black coffee in the flat's small but compact kitchen, and ate it off the kitchen table. Being a tidy and methodical man he emptied the last of the milk down the sink, broke the two remaining eggs and poured them also down the sink. The remainder of the orange juice he drank off, junked the can in the trash basket and the remainder of the bread, egg shells and coffee grounds went down the disposal unit. Nothing left would be likely to go rotten during his absence.

Finally he dressed, choosing a thin silk polo-necked sweater, the dove-grey suit containing the private papers in the name of Duggan, and the hundred pounds in cash, dark grey socks and slim black moccasin shoes. The ensemble was completed by the inevitable dark glasses.

At nine-fifteen he took his luggage, two pieces in each hand, closed the self-locking flat door behind him, and went downstairs. It was a short walk to South Audley Street and he caught a taxi on the corner.

«London Airport, Number Two Building,» he told the driver.

As the taxi moved away, the phone in his flat began to ring.

'It was ten o'clock when the legionnaire returned to the hotel off the Via Condotti and told Rodin he had tried for thirty minutes to get a reply from the London number he had been given, but had not ceded.

«What's the matter?» asked Casson, who had heard the explanation given to Rodin and seen the legionnaire dismissed to return to his guard duties. The three OAS chiefs were sitting in the drawing room of their suite. Rodin withdrew a piece of paper from his inside pocket and passed it over to Casson.

Casson read it and passed it to Montclair. Both men finally looked at their leader for an answer. There was none. Rodin sat staring out of the windows across the baking roofs of Rome, brow furrowed in thought.

«When did it come?» asked Casson eventually: «This morning,» replied Rodin briefly. «You've got to stop him,» protested Montclair. «They'll have half France on the lookout for him.»

«They'll have half of France on the look-out for a tall blond foreigner,» said Rodin quietly. «In August there are over one million foreigners in France. So far as we know they have no name to go on, no face, no passport. Being a professional he is probably using a false passport. They still have a long way to go to get him yet. There's a good chance he will be forewarned if he rings Valmy, and then he'll be able to get out again.»

'If he rings Valmy he will, of course, be ordered to drop the operation,» said Montclair. «Valmy will order him.»

Rodin shook his head.

«Valmy does not have the authority to do that. His orders are to receive information from the girl and pass it on to the Jackal when he is telephoned. He will do that, but nothing else.»

«But the Jackal must realise of his own accord that it is all over,» protested Montclair. «He must get out of France as soon as he rings Valmy the first time.»

«In theory yes,» said Rodin thoughtfully. «If he does he hands back the money. There's a lot at stake, for all of us, including him. It depends how confident he feels of his own planning.»

«Do you think he has a chance now… now that this has happened?» asked Casson.

«Frankly, no,» said Rodin. «But he is a professional. So am I, in my way. It is a frame of mind. One does not like to stand down an operation one has planned personally.»

«Then for God's sake recall him,» protested Casson.

«I can't. I would if I could, but I can't. He's gone. He's on his way. He wanted it this way and now he's got it. We don't know where he is or what he is going to do. He's completely on his own. I can't even call up Valmy and order him to instruct the jackal to drop the whole thing. To do so would risk "blowing" Valmy. Nobody can stop the jackal now. It's too late.»

TWELVE

COMMISSAIRE CLAUDE LEBEL arrived back in his office just before six in the morning to find Inspector Caron looking tired and strained, in shirt-sleeves at his desk.