late thirties. He had thinning black hair, piercing green eyes and an almost gaunt, hollow face. He was of medium height, slimly built. A skinned rabbit, thought Kyle. But his thin, pale lips were firm, and the high dome of his head spoke of a rare intelligence.
Krakovitch's impression of Kyle was much the same: a man just a few years younger than himself, intelligent, talented. It was only the physical side of Kyle that was different, which hardly mattered. Kyle's hair was brown and plentiful, naturally wavy. He was well fleshed, even a little overweight, but with his height that scarcely showed. His eyes were brown as his hair, his teeth even and white in a too-wide mouth that sloped a little from left to right. In another face that look might well be mistaken for cynicism, but not in Kyle, Krakovitch thought.
Quint, on the other hand, was more aggressive, but he probably had superb self-control. He would reach conclusions quickly, right or wrong. And he would probably act on them. He would act, and hope he'd done the right thing. But he wouldn't feel guilty if it turned out wrong. Also, there wasn't much emotion in Quint. All of this showed in his face, his figure, and Krakovitch prided himself on reading character. Quint was lithe, built like a cat. In no way massive, but he had that coiled spring look about him. Not nervous tension, just a natural ability to think and act fast. He had eyes of disarming blue that took in everything, a thin, even nose, and a forehead creased from frowning. He too was in his mid-thirties, thin on top, dark featured. And he had a talent. Krakovitch could tell that Quint was extremely ESP-sensitive. He was a spotter.
‘Oh, Sergei Gulharov has been trained —, Krakovitch finally answered, ‘ — as my bodyguard. But not in your arts, or mine. He has not got that kind of mind. Indeed, of the four of us, I could argue that he is the only 'normal' man present. Which is unfortunate,' — now he stared accusingly at Kyle — ‘for you and I were supposed to meet as equals, without, er, backup?'
At that moment the music went quiet, the rock'n'roll replaced by an Italian ballad.
‘Krakovitch,' said Kyle, hard-eyed now and keeping his voice low, ‘we'd better be straight on this. You're right, our deal was that the two of us should meet. We could each bring along a second. But no telepaths. What we have to say to each other we'll just say, without someone picking our thoughts. Quint isn't a telepath, he's a spotter, that's all. So we weren't cheating. And as far as your man here — er, Gulharov? — is concerned: Quint says he's clean, so you aren't cheating either. Or you wouldn't appear to be — but your third man is something else!'
‘My third man?' Krakovitch sat up straight, seemed genuinely surprised. ‘I have no — '
‘But you do,' Quint cut in. ‘KGB. We've seen him. In fact, he's here in Frankie's Franchise right now.
That was news to Kyle. He looked at Quint. ‘You're certain?'
Quint nodded. ‘Don't look now, but he's sitting in the corner over there with a Genoese whore. He's changed his clothes, too, and looks like he's just off a ship. Not a bad cover — but I recognised him the moment we walked in here.'
Out of the corner of his eye Krakovitch looked, then slowly shook his head. ‘I do not know him,' he said. ‘Not to be surprised. I do not know any of them. I dislike — strongly! But… you are sure? How can you be so sure?'
Kyle would have been caught on the hop, but not Quint. ‘We run the same sort of branch as the one you run, Comrade,' he stated flatly. ‘Except we have the edge on you. We're better at it. He's KGB, all right.'
Krakovitch's fury was obvious. Not against Quint but the position in which he now found himself. ‘Intolerable!' he snapped. ‘Why, the Party Leader himself has given me his — ‘ He half stood up, half turned towards the man indicated, a thick-set barrel of a man in rough and ready suit and open-necked shirt. His neck must be at least as thick as Krakovitch's thigh! Fortunately he was looking the other way, talking to the prostitute.
Before Krakovitch could carry it any further, Kyle said, ‘I believe you — that you don't know him. It was done behind your back. So sit down, act naturally. Anyway, it's obvious we can't talk here. Apart from the fact that we're being watched, it's too damned noisy. And Christ, for all we know there might even be someone listening in on us!'
Krakovitch abruptly sat down. He looked startled, glanced nervously about. ‘Bugged?' He remembered how his old boss, Borowitz, had had a thing about electronic surveillance.
‘We could be.' Quint gave a sharp nod. ‘This one either followed you here or he knew in advance where we were going to meet.'
Krakovitch gave a snort. ‘This getting out of hand. I no good at this. What now?'
Kyle looked at Krakovitch and knew he wasn't faking it. He grinned. ‘I'm no good at it either. Listen, I'm like you, Felix. I prognosticate. I don't know your word for it. I, er, foretell the future? I occasionally get fairly accurate pictures of how things are going to be. Do you understand?'
‘Of course,' said Krakovitch. ‘My talent almost exactly. Except I usually get warnings. So?'
‘So I saw us getting along OK together. How about you?'
Krakovitch heaved a sigh of relief. ‘I also,' he shrugged. ‘At least, no bad warnings.' Time was running out for the Russian and there were things he desperately needed to know, questions he must have answered. This Englishman might be the only one who could answer them. ‘So what we do about it?'
Quint said, ‘Wait.' He got up, crossed to the bar, ordered fresh drinks. He also spoke to the bartender. Then he came back with drinks on a tray. ‘When we get the nod from the bloke behind the bar we pile out of here fast,' he said.
'Eh?' Kyle was puzzled.
‘Taxi,' said Quint, smiling tightly. ‘I've ordered one. We'll go to… the airport! Why not? On the way we can talk. At the airport we find a warm, comfortable place in the arrivals lounge and carry on talking. Even if our pal over there manages to follow us he won't dare get too close. And if he does show up we'll take a taxi somewhere else.'
‘Good!' said Krakovitch.
Five minutes later their taxi came and all four exited at speed. Kyle was last out. Looking back, he saw the KGB man come slowly to his feet, saw his face twisting in anger and frustration.
In the taxi they talked, and at the airport. They started talking at about twenty minutes before midnight and finished at 2.30 A.M. Kyle did most of it, aided by Quint, with Krakovitch listening intently and only breaking in here and there to confirm or ask for an explanation of something that had been said.
Kyle started with these words:
‘Harry Keogh was our best. He had talents no one ever had before. A lot of them. He told me everything I'm going to tell you. If you believe what I tell you, we can help you with some big problems you've got in Russia and Romania. In helping you, we'll also be helping ourselves, for we'll learn by experience. Now then, do you want to know about Borowitz and how he died? About Max Batu and how he died? About the… the fossil men, who wrecked the Chateau Bronnitsy that night? I can tell you all of those things. More importantly, I can tell you about Dragosani.
And nearly three hours later he finished with these:
‘So, Dragosani was a vampire. And there are more of them. You have them, and we have them. We know where at least one of yours is. Or if not a vampire, something a vampire left behind. Which could be just as bad. Whichever, it has to be destroyed. We can help if you'll let us. Call it what you like — detente, while we deal with a mutual threat? But if you don't want our help, then you'll have to do the job yourself. But we'd like to help, because that way we might learn something. Face it, Felix, this is bigger than East-West political squabbling. We'd work together if it was plague, wouldn't we? Drug trafficking? Ships in trouble at sea? Of course we would. And I'm admitting right here and now, our own problem back in England might be bigger than we know. The more we learn from you, the better our chances. The better all of our chances.
Krakovitch had been silent for a long time. At last he said: ‘You want to come to USSR with me and… and put this thing down?'
‘Not the USSR — ' said Quint. ‘Romania. That's still your territory.'
‘The two of you? Both the leader, and a high-ranking member of your E-Branch? Is that not to be the big risks?'
Kyle shook his head. ‘Not from you. At least I don't think so. Anyway, we all have to start trusting someone somewhere. We've already started, so why not go all the way?'
Krakovitch nodded. ‘And afterwards, I perhaps come with you? See what kind problem you have?'
‘If you wish.'
Krakovitch pondered it. ‘You tell me a lot,' he said. ‘And you solve some big problems for me, maybe. But you not say where exactly this thing in Romania.'
