this was the moment to kick him.
'How smarmy can we get?' she started. 'You certainly did crawl to Tweed.'
'We can get as smarmy as we have to – when we have to.' Craig told her amiably.
She had her legs crossed, open to view where the slash in her skirt exposed them. He eyed them as he lit a cigarette. I wonder if I could hook him and then drop him with a bang, she thought.
'Well, you had a job to do.' She flashed him a smile. 'And actually you did it pretty well. The fish has taken the bait?'
'Tweed is meeting the boss tomorrow over here, if that is what you're getting at.'
'You'll earn medals instead of brickbats yet.'
'At least my job isn't to lure powerful men into the pit,' he remarked.
'What did you say?' She was furious. She sat up very erect. 'Are you implying I'm a high-class call-girl? Because I have a clear understanding with Brazil that I don't go to bed with any man he may ask me to target.'
'I know that,' he said quietly. 'You do blow your top at the drop of a hat. And I haven't even got a hat to drop.'
'Haha! Very humorous. If you go for cheap gags no self-respecting comedian would dream of using. Now, Carson, we could be friends instead of scrapping with each other all the time. And Leopold doesn't like it. By the by, that animal over there shouldn't be here. He was in England when the boss visited Grenville Grange. Six months in quarantine is the British rule.'
'The chief was careful. Igor was smuggled off the jet at Bournemouth International, then kept in Brazil's limo. While we were at the Grange Igor never even saw another animal of any kind.'
'He broke the law,' Eve insisted. 'But that's his affair,' she said hastily. 'If you sneak on me to him I'll say you made it up.'
'You would, too. Maybe you and I could go out sometime, have a few vodkas, shoot the breeze, as they say, whoever 'they' may be.'
'Maybe,' she replied. 'Where is this meeting with Tweed taking place?'
'That's classified information.'
'I heard you say a hotel. Which one?' she coaxed.
'It's still classified.' He got up. 'Don't blame me and start yelling. The boss's orders. I get paid to do as he tells me.'
'Bet you don't get paid as much as I do.'
'I wouldn't know. Jose hands out the bread.'
'I don't trust Jose,' she said and watched Craig with her eyes narrowed.
He was walking towards her. She waited for him to lay a hand on her leg. The moment he did he'd get her full glass of vodka in his face, down his nice suit. Craig walked past her to stroke the wolfhound. Igor was sitting in a corner, tongue hanging out, a dreamy look on its face. Igor had recently had its supper. It stood up and snarled as Craig came close.
'Watch it.' Eve swallowed her vodka, stood up, and walked towards the door. She looked at Craig over her shoulder. 'I'm going to bed. On my own,' she said sweetly.
In her bedroom at the Hotel des Bergues Paula couldn't get back to sleep. She switched on the table lamp, checked her travelling clock. 2 a.m. Great.
She used the phone to call room service, ordered coffee for two, although she felt sure Philip would be fast asleep. Putting on a dressing gown and belting it, she opened the door into the living room quietly. Philip was not asleep.
Sprawled out on the couch bed, his table lamp alight, he was reading a paperback. He put it down as she came in, slipped on his dressing gown over his pyjamas, sat with his feet on the floor.
'You, too?' he said.
'Afraid so. It was a pretty exciting evening. I've ordered coffee, some for you on the off-chance you would be awake – although I didn't expect it.'
After the waiter had tapped on the door, brought a wheeled table in with coffee and cakes, and left with his generous tip, she poured for both of them.
The phone rang just as she was about to start drinking hers.
'A man on the phone for you, Miss Grey. He wouldn't give a name but insisted you'd want to speak to him.'
'I'll take it…'
'This is your dinner guest, Paula. Very sorry to call you at this hour but I've reached my destination. I checked with a friend…' He paused and Paula realized he meant an informant. 'He gave me one word, which I don't understand. A girl's name. Ariane… Said it was very important. Good night
She told Philip. 'A girl's name. Ariane. Ring any bells?'
'None at all. Archie must have thought it was important to call you back at this hour. I get the impression he has an informant in a really key position.'
'He did say it was very important. Damn it, I'm wide awake and so are you. I'm going to call Tweed… He might still be up.'
Tweed came back into his office, towelling his hair, then combing it in a mirror he borrowed from Monica. He looked at Newman and Marler.
'I feel good for another twenty-four hours. Amazing the way a bath freshens you up. I can recommend it.'
He stopped speaking, went behind his desk as the phone rang yet again. Monica took the call.
'It's Rene Lasalle from. Paris. Sounds urgent.'
Tut him on. Good morning, Rene. So you, too, are burning the candle at both ends
'Tweed, this you should know. I've just heard it myself. Brazil sent a team to Cayenne – French Guiana. I heard about it, sent my own team with special cameras. You know about Ariane, our rocket-launching system in Guiana. Ariane. Brazil has had his own satellite flown out by plane for launching by Ariane into orbit. You know we make money by renting out the system for anyone with the funds to use Ariane to launch a satellite into space.'
'I know.'
'Well, something tricky took place. Brazil's team said they were checking the satellite, erected a canvas screen, but my team flew over in a helicopter just at the right moment and took a lot of pictures. A different satellite was substituted and we have the pics flown back from Guiana. They don't make sense to my so-called top experts, even though they have shots of what's inside the satellite.'
'Strange.' said Tweed.
'I know you have that weird man who has cracked scientific problems when no one else could. I have taken the liberty of sending you copies of the photos. A courier is in the air now, is being flown to Heathrow in a light aircraft.'
'When may I expect them?'
'Within an hour or two. At Park Crescent. I've phoned Heathrow and arranged for a car to be standing by.'
'I'll call Professor Grogarty now.'
'Won't delay you. I was summoned to the Elysee again and given a dressing-down by the President himself. Threatened with instant dismissal if my people went anywhere near Brazil. That's it…'
Tweed put the phone down, told Newman, Marler, and Monica what Lasalle had said.
'What on earth is that man up to?' Monica asked.
'We may know more if Grogarty can detect something from the photos. He's invented an extraordinary microscope which can read three-dimensional ciphers of a minute size. Monica, try and get Grogarty on the phone. He works through the night.'
The phone rang once more before Monica could start dialling. She listened, called out quickly.
'It's Paula on the line for you…'
Tweed grabbed the phone. He took a deep breath to hide his anxiety.
'Very good to hear from you. I've been thinking a lot about you.'
