The Spoilers / Juggernaut. Desmond Bagley

names and a place – and all the rest is rumour.’ He smiled sourly. ‘It isn’t ethics that has kept me from going to the police – it’s the sheer lack of hard facts.’

      ‘Leaving aside your three facts, what about the rumour? I’ve made some damned important decisions on nothing but rumour, and I’ve told you I get paid for making the right decisions.’

      Warren shrugged. ‘It’s all a bit misty – just stuff I’ve picked up in Soho. I spend a lot of time in Soho – in the West End generally – it’s where most of my patients hang out. It’s convenient for the all-night chemist in Piccadilly,’ he said sardonically.

      ‘I’ve seen them lining up,’ said Hellier.

      ‘In 1968 a drug ring was smashed in France – a big one. You must realize that the heroin coming into Britain is just a small leakage from the more profitable American trade. This particular gang was smuggling to the States in large quantities, but when the ring was smashed we felt the effects here. The boys were running around like chickens with their heads chopped off – the illegal supply had stopped dead.’

      ‘Wait a minute,’ said Hellier. ‘Are you implying that to stop the trade into Britain it would be necessary to do the same for the States?’

      ‘That’s virtually the position if you attack it at the source, which would be the best way. One automatically implies the other. I told you the problem was big.’

      ‘The ramifications are more extensive than I thought,’ admitted Hellier. He shrugged. ‘Not that I’m chauvinistic about it; as you say, it’s an international problem.’

      Hellier still did not seem to be disturbed about the probable cost to his pocket, so Warren went on: ‘I think the best way of outlining the current rumours is to look at the problem backwards, so to speak – beginning at the American end. A typical addict in New York will buy his shot from a pusher as a “sixteenth” – meaning a sixteenth of an ounce. He must buy it from a pusher because he can’t get it legally, as in England. That jerks up the price, and his sixteenth will cost him somewhere between six and seven dollars. His average need will be two shots a day.’

      Hellier’s mind jerked into gear almost visibly. After a moment he said, ‘There must be a devil of a lot of heroin going into the States.’

      ‘Not much,’ said Warren. ‘Not in absolute bulk. I daresay the illegal intake is somewhere between two and three tons a year. You see, the heroin as sold to the addict is diluted with an inert soluble filler, usually lactose – milk sugar. Depending on whether he’s being cheated – and he usually is – the percentage of heroin will range from one-half to two per cent. I think you could take a general average of one per cent.’

      Hellier was figuring again. He drew forward a sheet of paper and began to calculate. ‘If there’s a sixteen-hundredth of an ounce of pure heroin in a shot, and the addict pays, say, $6.50 …’ He stopped short. ‘Hell, that’s over $10,000 an ounce!’

      ‘Very profitable,’ agreed Warren. ‘It’s big business over there. A pound of heroin at the point of consumption is worth about $170,000. Of course, that’s not all profit – the problem is to get it to the consumer. Heroin is ultimately derived from the opium poppy, papaver somniferum, which is not grown in the States for obvious reasons. There’s a chain of production – from the growing of the poppy to raw opium; from the opium to morphine; from morphine to heroin.’

      ‘What’s the actual cost of production?’ asked Hellier.

      ‘Not much,’ said Warren. ‘But that’s not the issue. At the point of consumption in the States a pound of heroin is worth $170,000; at the point of the wholesaler inside the States it’s worth $50,000; at any point outside the States it’s worth $20,000. And if you go right back along the chain you can buy illicit raw opium in the Middle East for $50 a pound.’

      ‘That tells me two things,’ said Hellier thoughtfully. ‘There are high profits to be made at each stage – and the cost at any point is directly related to the risks involved in smuggling.’

      ‘That’s it,’ said Warren. ‘So far the trade has been fragmented, but rumour has it that a change is on the way. When the French gang was busted it left a vacuum and someone else is moving in – and moving in with a difference. The idea seems to be that this organization will cut out the middlemen – they’ll start with the growing of the poppy and end up with delivery inside the States of small lots in any given city. A guaranteed delivery on that basis should net them $50,000 a pound after expenses have been met. That last stage – getting the stuff into the States – is a high risk job.’

      ‘Vertical integration,’ said Hellier solemnly. ‘These people are taking hints from big business. Complete control of the product.’

      ‘If this comes off, and they can sew up the States, we can expect an accelerated inflow into Britain. The profits are much less, but they’re still there, and the boys won’t neglect the opportunity.’ Warren gestured with his hand. ‘But this is all rumour. I’ve put it together from a hundred whispers on the grapevine.’

      Hellier laid his hands flat on the desk. ‘So now we come to your facts,’ he said intently.

      ‘I don’t know if you could dignify them by that name,’ said Warren tiredly. ‘Two names and a place. George Speering is a pharmaceutical chemist with a lousy reputation. He got into trouble last year in a drug case, and the Pharmaceutical Society hammered him. He was lucky to escape a jail sentence.’

      ‘They … er … unfrocked him?’

      ‘That’s right. This crowd will need a chemist and I heard his name mentioned. He’s still in England and I’m keeping an eye on him as well as I can, but I expect him to go abroad soon.’

      ‘Why soon? And how soon?’

      Warren tapped the desk calendar. ‘The opium crop isn’t in yet, and it won’t be for a month. But morphine is best extracted from fresh opium, so as soon as this gang have enough of the stuff to work on then Speering will get busy.’

      ‘Perhaps we should keep a closer watch on Speering.’

      Warren nodded. ‘He still seems to be taking it pretty easy at the moment. And he’s in funds, so he’s probably on a retainer. I agree he should be watched.’

      ‘And the other name?’ enquired Hellier.

      ‘Jeanette Delorme. I’ve never heard of her before. She sounds as though she could be French, but that doesn’t mean much in the Middle East, if that’s where she hangs out. But I don’t even know that. I don’t know anything about her at all. It was just a name that came up in connection with Speering.’

      Hellier scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘Jeanette Delorme.’ He looked up. ‘And the place?’

      ‘Iran,’ said Warren briefly.

      Hellier looked disappointed. ‘Well, that’s not much.’

      ‘I never said it was,’ said Warren irritatedly. ‘I thought of giving it to the police but, after all, what had I to give them?’

      ‘They could pass it on to Interpol. Maybe they could do something.’

      ‘You’ve been making too many television pictures,’ said Warren abrasively. ‘And believing them, at that! Interpol is merely an information centre and doesn’t initiate any executive work. Supposing the word was passed to the Iranian police. No police force is incorruptible, and I wouldn’t take any bets at all on the cops in the Middle East – although I hear the Iranians are better than most.’

      ‘I appreciate your point.’ Hellier was silent for a moment. ‘Our best bet would appear to be this man, Speering.’

      ‘Then you’re willing to go on with it on the basis of the little information I have?’

      Hellier was surprised. ‘Of course!’