AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Precisely,” Montagu said warily, not certain if they were mocking him or not.
“And maybe something concerning the payment of taxes,” Niven went on.
“Ah, yes,” Fleming said, “the only two things certain in this life, death and taxes.”
Niven picked up the McKenna letterhead, then stood and went to the Olivetti Model M40. He spun the letterhead into the Italian typewriter and typed:
* * *
RE: Your affairs.
Dear Sir,
We thank you for your letter of yesterday’s date returning the draft of your will approved. We will insert the legacy of £50 to your batman and our Mr. Gwatkin will bring the fair copy with him when he meets you at lunch on the 21st so that you can sign it there.
The inspector of taxes has asked us for particulars of your service pay and allowances during 1941/2 before he will finally agree to the amount of reliefs due to you for that year. We cannot find that we have ever had these particulars and shall, therefore, be grateful if you will let us have them.
Yours faithfully,
McKENNA & CO.
Major W. Martin, R.M.
Naval & Military Club
94 Piccadilly
London, S.W.1.
* * *
Montagu took that, read it over, then passed it around the table.
“Very good,” he said. “Now, as to his personality. Specifically, his personal spending habits.”
“Thus far,” Fleming said, “he has proven to be quite the responsible chap. There must be a chink in the armor. Everyone has one.”
“Speak for yourself, sir,” Niven said drolly. “My armor is impeccable. As is every other aspect of my personal being.”
There were chuckles.
Niven then looked at Ustinov and said, “Didn’t you recently get a letter concerning unpaid accounts?”
“It was in error,” Ustinov shot back defensively. “And after my confrontation with the manager of the institution, was corrected to my satisfaction.”
“Yes, of course,” Niven said. “Sorry. I did not mean to suggest any armor problems on your part. What I was going after was, you are still familiar with the tone, the phrasing, et cetera, of that letter?”
“Oh, yes. It was short, sweet, and painfully to the point.”
Niven gestured toward the Remington typewriter.
“Have at it,” he said.
Montagu produced a new sheet of letterhead, this one from a familiar financial institution, and put it beside the big, heavy American typewriter.
Ustinov shrugged, then moved to the chair in front of the Remington.
He rolled the bank letterhead into the machine. Then he looked at Niven and held up both hands, making them into fists.
