We ll see, Harry Salter said, and at that moment the two women returned, Dora pushing a trolley.
Right, sit round the tables, the lot of you, and let s get started.
Henri, apparently absorbed in an Evening Standard he d found at the end of the bar, put it down, finished his Pernod, and went out and rejoined Kelly in the Citro n.
So what s the story?
Henri told him everything. It would be interesting to know what s being said at the meeting on Thursday.
Well, there s not much you can do about that, Kelly said.
Perhaps not, but it might be amusing to cause a little mischief right now.
Like what?
Watch and learn. He reached across, opened the glove compartment, and took out a flashlight and a pair of vicious-looking steel wire cutters. That should do the trick. You stay here.
He walked down to the Alfa, ducked until he was out of sight. Kelly couldn t even get a hint of what he was doing, afraid that someone might emerge from the pub entrance at any moment. Luck was certainly on Henri s side, for as he reappeared and started to walk back, the door opened to a burst of laughter, and three men emerged. They got into a car and drove away.
As Henri joined him, Kelly said, By God, that was close. What were you up to?
Henri replaced the flashlight and the wire cutters where he had found them, took out a duster, and wiped his hands.
What s that smell? Kelly asked.
Hydraulic braking fluid. I sliced the main tube. I m afraid the next time friend Holley drives his car and tries to brake, he ll get a nasty surprise.
You bastard, Kelly said. Are we going to stay to watch?
We don t need to be here. The accident will occur whether we are or not. But it might be amusing. Let s give it half an hour.
Which they did, and quite a few people left during that period. In fact, forty-five minutes had elapsed when Henri said, To hell with it, we ll go.
At that moment, Sara and Holley appeared, followed by the Salters, with Baxter and Hall standing in the entrance. There was a short exchange, laughter, then Sara and Holley got in the Alfa. The engine fired, and the Alfa moved forward, turning in a wide circle to point toward the exit road. Suddenly, the engine note deepened, and the Alfa swerved violently toward the edge of the wharf, bouncing sideways into a bollard, which was the only thing that saved it from going over into the Thames.
Holley scrambled out, turned, and reached for Sara, whose door was jammed. He pulled her toward him and she said, I m fine, really I am.
The Salters arrived with Baxter and Hall, and Holley said,
I braked on the turn and nothing happened. I can t understand it.
Baxter was already on his knees, peering under the car. Brake fluid dripping all over the bloody place, Harry. He reached inside and pushed on the pedal. Nothing doing.
You were bloody lucky, my old son, Harry said.
If it hadn t been for that bollard, you d have been down on the bottom and fighting to get out. It s ten feet deep down there.
Billy said, Sure you re okay, Sara?
I m good, she said. No problem. What happens now?
Harry said to Baxter, You handle this, Joe, get the garage on it. Meanwhile, give Daniel the keys to one of the Mercedes. He turned to Holley. We ve got three here, so you might as well take one. You ll need it to get to Holland Park in the morning.
That s brilliant, Holley said.
A number of people had emerged from the pub, paused to see what was going on, and then had moved on to their parked cars. Henri and Kelly joined in the general exodus.
My God, we nearly had them, Kelly said.
Yes, we did, but never mind, Henri told him.
There will be other times.
As they passed the Tower of London on the way back, Holley said,
Are you sure that you re all right, Sara?
Of course I am. It could have turned nasty, it didn t. I wouldn t say no to a drink. She looked at her watch. It s only ten o clock. Can we drop in at the Dorchester Bar?
Of course we can.
What an evening, she said. It was fun. I liked the Salters.
And Dora s hot pot.
Was bloody marvelous. She should patent it.
He pulled in at the front of the Dorchester, handed his keys over, and they went in. It was busy, but there was nothing surprising in that. The problem was, the bar was packed, and so was the concourse, with the late- supper trade.
It would appear to be just one of those nights, he said. I can only apologize.
What for? I m sure you have an absolutely wonderful suite waiting upstairs. Can we take a look?
The maids had dimmed the lights and left the French windows in the sitting room open to the night air, because that was the way Holley liked it. The white gossamer curtains stirred constantly, like living things, giving the whole room an eerie feeling.
This is extraordinary, Sara told him.
What would you like to drink?
Champagne, please.
The curtains were like cobwebs to be brushed aside as she went through, but the view from the terrace high up above Mayfair and Hyde Park, the splendor of the city at night, lights stretching into the distance, was incredible.
Holley came out with a bottle of Dom Perignon in an ice bucket with two glasses. He filled them and offered her one. She ran the ice-cold glass against her forehead.
That s lovely, she said.
What do we drink to?
Oh, to love in spite of war, and to this incredibly wonderful place we re in now, which is not the real world and never could be. Out there, one way or the other, it s all Afghanistan, where the beast rules.
I think I see where you re coming from, Holley told her. But what exactly are you saying?
You pointed out that you never had much time for relationships in your line of work, because although you were here today, you were very possibly gone tomorrow, and you meant permanently.
Which is true.
What would you say if I said I d like you to take me to bed?
I d say no.
But why? She looked genuinely bewildered.
I know how you feel about me. It s been obvious from the moment we met. In case you hadn t noticed, I m a woman. We know about these things.
He took her empty glass from her hand and refilled it. Would you just listen to me? In the old days, I ran guns out of Algiers to the Mafia, so I was familiar with the part of Sicilian folklore that speaks of the thunderbolt that strikes a man when he meets the special woman, the only woman.
She stopped drinking, just stared at him. What are you trying to say?
That I always thought it was nonsense until I saw the most desirable and endearing woman I d ever set eyes on limping around that dance floor at the Pierre.
So why won t you take me to bed?
Well, God help anyone who tries to do you harm, but regarding anything else… Sara, I fear I m carrying too much baggage. And as you may have noticed, I m too old for you.
Her expression was unreadable, though there was a touch of triumph there. Oh, you poor old boy. She
