CHAPTER SEVEN“O’LEARY!” EXCLAIMED the red-bearded inspector breathlessly.
“Easy does it, Sweeney, everything’s under control,” the Irish inspector reassured him with a glint of mockery in his eyes.
“I was afraid I’d get here too late…” said the Scot gasping for breath as he reached the eighteenth hole.
“You nearly did. The round between Elster and Tyron Jr. is almost over. Look, you can see them on the fairway, about a hundred and fifty yards from here. Their balls are already on the green. Two good shots I’d say!”
“Right, just in time… Is everything in place?”
“The cars are parked away from the clubhouse. I’m only using plainclothesmen. I don’t want to attract any attention. As soon as Tyron has finished signing autographs, we’ll grab him and take him out the back way, quietly…”
The
