superb. Absolutely ... superb. Not a lot of jibber-jabber, and quite prompt. Certainly not.. . not of course, of course not
absolutely not the Plaza or the Savoy, but then, the food was never any good in Egypt, either. Do you travel?’
‘I’m leaving,’ the Magician whispered. ‘I listen to much more of this, I’ll be certifiable.’
O’Hara ignored him and pressed the point. ‘Mr Daniov, do you know who I am?’
Danilov strolled the room again, studying O’Hara’s candle- jaundiced face flickering before him. ‘My friend? My brother? My teacher, my priest, my driver, my enemy? L’enemi, yes. My ... own .. . executioner.’
‘Do you know who lam?’ O’Hara insisted.
The mad Bulgarian sat down again and pursed his lips. ‘I was always very good at tests,’ he said, still pondering, and then he said, ‘You’re the one they call the Sailor.’
O’Hara was taken aback. ‘That’s right,’ he said with surprise.
‘And you,’ he said to the Magician, ‘are the one with the hotel.’
‘Be damned,’ the Magician said.
Danilov turned back to O’Hara. ‘You ditched it.’
‘Right again.’
‘Ditched it. Yes, I remember you. I ditched it too. Not an easy thing to do.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘Because they don’t want that. It’s unsafe. They prefer to give you the long sleep.’
‘Who is “they”?’
‘The faceless ones, telephone voices, kill this one, kill that one. For what reason? Never mind. Oh, excuse me, excusez moi, monsieur.’
‘Who is Chameleon?’
‘I know and I don’t know.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘Everybody, nobody. He is a chameleon. The chameleon is never what it seems.’
‘What do you know about Master?’
He became cautious again. His eyes flicked around the room. ‘It’s very dangerous, you know, to underestimate them.’
‘Underestimate whom? You mean Master?’
‘They’re philosophical racists. Couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it and now ... no place left for me but here. It is my. . . rabbit hole.’
‘Why did you run, Danilov?’
‘Too old. Arthritis.’ He held up his deformed hands. ‘Senseless. Too many faces. The jolly fat man in the rain you can’t retire. No such thing as quitting. When you are no longer useful, they dispose of you. Understand? They shove you down the ... what do you call it?’—he made a sound like brrrttt—’... garbage disposal.’
‘And the only reason Master wants you dead is because you got arthritis?’
Danilov nodded ruefully. ‘Yes, the unpardonable. To get sick. Tried to keep them from finding out. But eventually there were ... things I couldn’t do anymore.’
He dry-washed his hands, over and over. Then he said, ‘I failed them. No such thing . .. failure.’
‘How did you fail them?’
‘Chameleon.’
‘What about Chameleon?’
‘I missed Chameleon.’
‘Missed him? Were you trying to kill him?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Did Quill tell you to kill Chameleon?’
‘You must find the ant before you can step on it.’
‘Did Quill tell you to find Chameleon?’
Danilov nodded slowly. He was staring at one of the candle flames, as though hypnotized.
‘And that’s the reason?’
He nodded. ‘Failure. They wanted me to do that job in Hawaii, too, but I was too far away. Couldn’t hold that against me.’
‘What job in Hawaii?’
‘The man with the pictures from the
