Krogh didn’t locate Petrin on the return journey, not even on the hydrofoil where it should have been easy, which he found unsettling but not positively worrying after what he regarded as the encouraging success of the day. He first became aware of the Russian when the train reached Waterloo and then he did not see him. Krogh had an awareness of a presence, very close, and a voice he recognized to be Petrin’s said: ‘Are we going straight to the house?’
Krogh jumped, involuntarily, despite the concourse noise of the main-line station. He stopped, turning to face the other man, and said: ‘I wondered where you were: I looked but couldn’t find you.’
‘I don’t make a habit of being easily seen,’ said Petrin arrogantly. ‘I asked if we were going straight to the house.’
‘There’s nothing for me to draw,’ said Krogh.
The American purposely phrased the declaration, trying to disturb the Russian, but Petrin gave no alarmed response. Quite controlled, he said: ‘How’s that, Emil?’
With passengers swirling around them and metalvoiced announcements of train movements and delays echoing overhead, Krogh recounted what had happened that day. Petrin listened with his head slightly bowed, not looking directly at him, but started nodding as Krogh finished. The Russian looked up then and smiled and said: ‘That’s good: that’s very good indeed. You’ve done well.’
Satisfaction stirred through Krogh at the congratulation, despite his trying to prevent it: he was like a child anxious for praise from an adult he sought to impress. He said: ‘From what I’ve seen it’s going to take at least a fortnight, maybe longer.’
‘Just as long as we get it all,’ reminded the Russian.
Vitali Losev listened patiently to Blackstone, at the other end of the line, sighing at the length at which the man was talking in a blatantly obvious attempt to increase the importance of what he was saying. When Blackstone eventually finished, the Russian said: ‘Thank you. That’s very interesting.’
‘I thought you’d want to know right away,’ said Blackstone hopefully. ‘I thought you’d consider it important.’
‘Like I told you, it’s interesting,’ qualified Losev. ‘It’ll help to get that permanent payment organized.’
There was a long pause between them, Losev waiting contemptuously. At last, desperately, Blackstone said: ‘You haven’t heard anything yet then?’
‘Not yet,’ said Losev. ‘Soon, I hope.’
30
It was a hotel clinging by its fingertips to the middle range of the package-tour market, reconciled to the number of couples named Smith who booked in for one night and left earlier in the morning, and wary of a health inspection swoop on the kitchens because you couldn’t keep cockroaches completely from hotel kitchens, could you?
The foyer was a brave attempt at something it was not. There was an imitation marble floor of yellowy amber and the motif was continued with two imitation marble pillars in a matching colour. At various strategic points there were tall plants with large leaves which went well with the marble effect and just got away with conveying an interior garden atmosphere. The reception area was quite small and to the right of the double-fronted glass doors: behind the reception clerk all the rooms were itemized by open cubbyholes into which the keys fitted with their number tags hanging down, to show whether they were occupied or not, and which Charlie marked right away as a burglar’s dream. There was a sitting area to the left, a couch and a set of chairs with ornately carved legs and arms and with upholstery featuring French pastoral scenes of pomaded men and crinolined women unaware of the rumbling tumbrils of revolution. It was the sort of brocade material Charlie had seen on genuine antiques and looked quite good when slightly frayed, which this was.
The clerk, a smiling girl, wondered if he were on holiday and Charlie agreed he was and she asked if he knew London well and Charlie said well enough. She gestured to some unseen desk behind a potted plant and said it was manned between ten and four every weekday to get theatre tickets or tour trips and Charlie promised to remember.
He was given room 35 and taken to it by an elderly porter whose false teeth didn’t fit and who therefore lisped when he talked. On the way up in a hicupping, metal-grilled lift Charlie patiently went through the here-for-a-holiday, first-time-in-London ritual. The old man showed him how to operate the television and opened the bathroom door to prove the room had one and said if there were anything at all Charlie wanted he only had to ask. Charlie thanked the man and tipped him two pounds because he invariably found hotel porters useful allies to have.
The room was small but adequate. There was a double bed at one side of which was a tray with a kettle and a selection of tea, coffee and powdered milk sachets for a do-it-yourself breakfast drink, a built-in clothes closet, a low table bordered with two easy chairs and the already identified television had a dial device for in-house movies. One was described as adult viewing and didn’t become available until after 10 p.m. Charlie guessed the management had got a job lot with the fake marble tiles because the bathroom was a replica of the lobby. The bath was clean, there were enough towels and there was a tray of soaps and shampoo and conditioner in their individual packets. He was going to be quite comfortable, Charlie decided.
He unpacked and with instinctive professionalism set out to explore his surroundings. He followed the signs and discovered his room was conveniently positioned near the fire escape. It was an internal system, a back-stairs spiral of bare concrete steps with a metal hand rail. Charlie pushed through the door on his floor and descended the three flights to find where it emerged, out into the open. It was on to a tiny rear car park, where the dustbins were kept as well as vehicles. There was an alley leading from the front of the hotel, towards the park, but another feeder road for service lorries ran at right angles, as welclass="underline" Charlie guessed the feeder road supplied several other hotels in the area.
It would have been convenient to have emerged through the fire door on the ground level but it would have made the clerk or the porter curious, so Charlie limped back up the three flights to use the public, rickety lift: by the time he’d been up and then down his legs as well as his feet ached, and Charlie felt the need to restore himself.
The bar was on the same side as the reception area but further back into the hotel, past more plants and the theatre ticket desk he now located. Charlie, not only a man of quick impressions but a degreeholding judge of hostelries, liked it at once. The colour scheme was predominantly restful red, with hunting scenes and prints of eighteenth-century London around the walls. The bar itself looked as if it were made from aged and heavy wood, which was probably plastic imitation like the outside tiles but Charlie thought it worked well enough. It was along the inner wall and impressively stocked with little-known brand-name scotch, which Charlie always considered a good sign. There were a few bar stools, a spread of tables and some benched seats.
Charlie expertly chose the corner stool, right against the wall, from which he had an immediate view of anyone entering but from whom he would not be easily seen until they got their bearings. He ordered an Islay malt and the barman said he didn’t want ice or water did he and Charlie agreed that he didn’t and was further impressed. A barman who knew how properly to serve Islay malt and was able instantly to discern someone else who did as well was no newcomer to his trade. And practised hotel barmen were even better allies than porters because as well as proficiency with drinks they were usually proficient with gossip. The barman, whose name emerged as John and who, from the bracelets and the neckchain, was a lover of gold, let Charlie lead the conversation, which was another indication of experience and which Charlie started to do after the second drink. The man started to volunteer what Charlie sought by the time of the third drink, prompted by Charlie disclosing how long he intended staying.