If it were possible to heave a mental sigh Sven did then. A sensation of resignation and inevitability was transferred from brain to brain.
Your companion, Shelly, made a phone call.
I was there, I know about it and I don’t give a damn. It’s not important.
You misunderstand. This is not the call I was referring to. It was an earlier one…
The hell with it! I don’t want to talk about her or her damn calls…
You must care. This is vital to your survival. She made the call I refer to from the train in Mexico, when she was out of the compartment. Before you concealed her phone in the train.
Brian was almost afraid to ask the question, afraid that he already knew the answer.
Who did she speak to?
A man whose name I do not know. But it was obvious from the references and content that he was an aide to General Schorcht.
You’ve known this since yesterday — and didn’t tell me?
That is correct. I have already told you my reasons.
Brian felt the explosion of hatred burst within him. Everything she had said, done, had been a lie. And this liar, this traitor, had witnessed his humiliation, was laughing at him right now. She must have been lying to him ever since she had returned from Los Angeles. She had been there to see her father — but she had most certainly seen General Schorcht as well. How much of what she had told him was the truth — how much playacting? Anger wiped away all the other emotions.The bitch had betrayed him. Maybe Snaresbrook was in this as well. Even Sven had hidden the betrayal from him until this moment. Was he completely alone in the world? Anger became despair. He was at the edge of a black mental pit and about to fall in.
Brian. The words came from a great distance. His name repeated over and over within his own head. His vision swam and he could not see well until he rubbed at his eyes, brushed away the tears, saw Sven’s great glistening eyes just before him.
Brian, I have something good to tell you. Something you want to hear. It is still possible to make that telephone call to Dr. Bociort.
What are you saying? I told you last night it wasn’t a phone number at all.
I know. That is because I lied to you. You will remember that I gave you the number in the presence of Shelly. I was still unsure then if I should reveal her duplicity to you. But I was sure that I would give her no information to pass on to the General.
“Look who is talking about duplicity!” Brian spoke aloud, shocked — then almost smiled into the darkness. He was hooked up to an MI that was more Machiavellian than Machiavelli!
Sven — you are really something. And you are really on my side. Possibly the only intelligent creature in the world at this point. I’ve got to make that phone call again — and this time to the correct number. Any suggestions how we go about that?
Only the simple observation that we do not make it from this area where all the circuits are sure to be under surveillance.
Too right. Let’s make plans. We want to get out of this hotel, out of this area — and away from that personification of evil. Now I just want to get away from her, as far away as possible.
I agree. We should leave here at once. And might I observe that since she checked you both into this hotel you will also be sticking her with the bill.
To hell with Shelly. She should die and burn in hell forever. Now he had to escape. But how? He couldn’t leave Sven here when he left, could not consider that for an instant. Their closeness now was beyond friendship, a relationship that he could not put into words. But if he disassembled the MI again and stuffed him back into the box it would be an impossible burden.
At that moment Sven formed a very human hand and bent over to pull the plug on the charging cable from the wall. That was the answer. Night and rain — he had to take the chance. He scribbled a quick note and handed it to the MI.
Put on human disguise.
The phone rang. He hesitated. Two rings, three. He had better answer it.
“Yes.”
“Brian, could I talk to you—”
Anger surged up, burning like acid; he coughed and fought for composure, failed.
“Go to hell!”
“I’m so sorry you feel this way. In the morning we can talk…”
Her voice cut off as he slammed the receiver back into the cradle. While they had been talking Sven had pulled on the clothes, tied its shoes, was now slipping into the raincoat. With the store dummy’s head settled into position, the hat pulled low, there was suddenly another human being in the room. Brian struggled to contain his anger, faced it, let it drain away. Then looked at Sven again and shaped a circle of approval with his index finger and thumb and reached for the phone. While he waited for them to answer he wrote another note.
Open the door an inch. Silently!
“Hello, reception? Room 222 here. Listen, I’m retiring and I would like you to hold all calls until morning. Take any messages. Right. Thank you. Good night.”
He walked around the room humming to himself as he found his raincoat. Yawned loudly, ran water in the sink then flushed the toilet. Stamped his feet on the floor, then sat down on the bed, which squeaked providentially. Turned off the light and tiptoed to the door. Sven opened it a bit more and one eyestalk appeared from below the scarf, slipped out through the opening and scanned the hallway. There was obviously no one there, for the MI opened the door and led the way out, closing it silently behind them.
“The service lift,” Brian said. “And keep your coat collar turned up.”
It was late and luck was on their side. The kitchen was dark, the staff gone home. The outside door let them out into a rain-drenched alley.
“Might I assume that you have formulated a plan?” Sven said.
“Find a bar with a phone and we are on our way.”
They passed Paddy Murphy’s where he had been before, went on through the rain to the welcoming lights of Maddigan’s. Brian pointed to the dark entrance to the closed fishmonger next door. “You wait in there. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
The barman looked up from the Sporting Times when Brian pushed open the door. The courting couple in the rear booth were too occupied with each other to notice nun.
“Jayzus but it’s wet out there. A glass of Paddy if you please.”
“It’ll keep the dust down. Ice?”
“No — just a drop of the red. Can I telephone for a taxi?”
“Back by the jakes. Number on the wall above it. That’ll be two pound eighty.”
Brian downed the last of his drink when he heard the sound of a hooter outside. Waved to the barman and left. Sven appeared beside him, climbed into the cab after him.
“Going far?” the driver asked. “I need to fill the tank if you are.”
Brian slammed the door shut before he answered. “Limerick train station.”
“There’s an all-night petrol station on the way. Really suppose we ought to call it a gas station, same as the Yanks do. No petrol there at all. And hydrogen is a gas, that’s what I hear, so it’s off to the gas station we are.”
Brian wiped the condensation off the rear window and looked out. There were no other cars in sight that he could see. They just might get away with it. An image of Shelly appeared before him and he easily pushed it away. She was not even worth thinking about, not ever again.