Belgravia-nowhere for agents to make themselves unobtrusive; and because the whole district was quiet, wealthy and stuffed with ambassadors it was easy for the police to keep an eye open for suspicious activities. Any of the standard surveillance ploys-telephone repair van, road crew with striped tentwould have drawn a crowd of bobbies in minutes. BY contrad the am around the little oasis of Embassy Row was Kensington, a major shopping area with several colleges and four museums. Tyrin himself was in a pub in Kensington Church Street. The resident KGB men had told him that the pub was frequented by detectives from 'Special Branch!-the rather coy name for Scotland Yard's political police. The four youngish men in rather sharp suits drinking whiskey at the bar were probably detectives. They did not know Tyrin, and would not have been much interested in him if they had. Indeed, if Tyrin were to approach them and say, 'By the way, the KGB is tailing every Israeli legal in London at the moment,' they would probably say 'What, again?' and order another round of drinks. in any event Tyrin knew he was not a man to attract second glances. He was small and rather rotund, with a big nose and a drinkees veined face. He wore a gray raincoat over a green sweater. The rain had removed the last memory of a crease from his charcoal flannel trousers. He sat in a comer with a glass of English beer and a small bag of potato chips. no radio in his shirt pocket was connected by a fine, fleshcolored wire to the plug-it looked like a hearing aid-in his left car. His left side was to the wall. He could talk to Rostov by pretending to fumble in the inside pocket of his raincoat turning his face away from the room and muttering into the perforated metal disc on the top edge of the radio. He was watching the detectives drink whiskey and thinking that the Special Branch must have better expense accounts than its Russian equivalent: he was allowed one pint of beer per hour, the potato crisps he had to buy himself. At- one time agents in England had even been obliged to buy beer in half pints, until the accounts department had been told that in many pubs a man who drank halves was as peculiar as a Russian who took his vodka in sips instead of gulps. Thirteen, pick up a green Volvo, two men, High Street. Understood, And one on foot . . . I think that's Yigael Meier Twenty? Tyrin was 'Twenty.' He turned his face into his shoulder and said, 'Yes. Describe him.' Tall, gray hair, umbrella, belted coat. High Street gate. Tyrin said, 'rm on my way.' He drained his glass and left the pub. It was raining. Tyrin took a collapsible umbrella from his raincoat pocket and opened it. The wet sidewalks were crowded with shoppers. At the traffic lights he spotted the green Volvo and, three cars behind it, 'Mirteen!l in an Austin. Another car. Five, this one's yours. Blue Volkswagen beetle. Understood. Tyrin reached Palace Gate, looked up Palace Avenue, saw a man fitting the description heading toward him, and walked on without pausing. When he had calculated that the an had had time to reach the street he stood at the curb, as if about to cross, and looked up and down. The mark emerged from Palace Avenue and turned west, away from Tyrin. Tyrin followed. Along High Street tailing was made easier by the crowds. Then they turned south into a maze of side streets, and Tyrin became a bit nervous; but the Israeli did not seem to be watching for a shadow. He simply butted ahead through the rain, a tall, bent-figure under an umbrella, walking fast, intent on his destination. He did not go far. He turned into a small modern hotel just off the Cromwell Road. Tyrin walked past the entrance and, glancing through the glass door, saw the mark step Into a phone booth In the lobby. A little farther along the road Tyrin passed the green Volvo, and concluded that the Israeli and his colleagues in the green Volvo were staking out the hotel. He crossed the road and came back on the opposite side, just In case the mark were to come out again immediately. He looked for the blue Volkswagen beetle and did not see it, but he was quite sure it would be close by. He spoke into his shirt pockeL 'M is Twenty Meier and the green Volvo have staked out the Jacobean HoteL' Confirwd, Twenty. Five and Thirteen ham the Israeli cars covered. Where is Meier? ,in the lobby.' Tyrin looked up and down and saw the Austin which was following the green Volvo. Stay with him. 'Understood.' Tyrin now had a difficult decision to make. If he went straight into the hotel Meier might spot lum, but if he took the time to find the back entrance Meier might go away in the meanwhile. He decided tD chance the back entrance, on the grounds that he was supported by two cars which could cover for a few minutes if the worst happened. Beside the hotel there was a narrow alley for delivery vans. Tyrin walked along it and came to an unlocked fire exit In the blank side wall of the building. He went in and found himself in a concrete stair- well, obviously built to be used only as a fire escape. As he climbed the stairs he collapsed his umbrella, put it in his raincoat pocket and took off the raincoat He folded it and left it In a little bundle on the first half landing, w1we he could quickly pick it up N he needed to make a fast exlL He went to the second floor and took the elevator down to the lobby. When he emerged in his sweater and trousers he looked like a guest at the hotel. The Israeli was still in the phone bootlL Tyrin went up to the glass door at the front of the lobby, looked out, chocked his w&hratch and returned to the waiting area to sit down as if he were ineeting someone. It did not seem to be his lucky day. The object: of the whole exercise was to find Nat Dickstein. He was known to be in England and it was hoped that he would have a meeting with one of the legals. The Russians were following the legals in order to witness that meeting and pick up Dickstein's trail. The Israeli team at this hotel was clearly not involved in a meeting. They were staking out someone, presumably with a view to tailing him as soon as he showed, and that someone was not likely to be one of their own agents. Tyrin could only hope that what they were doing would at least turn out to be of some interesL He watched the mark come out of the phone booth and walk off in the direction of the ' bar. He wondered if the lobby could be observed from the bar. Apparently not, because the mark came back a few minutes later with a drink in his hand, then sat down across from Tyrin and picked up a newspaper. The mark did not have time to drink his beer. The elevator doors hissed open, and out walked Nat Dickstein. Tyrin was so surprised that he made the mistake of staring straight at Dickstein for several seconds. Dickstein caught his eye, and nodded politely. Tyrin smiled weakly and looked at his watch. It occurred to him-more in hope than conviction-that staring was such a bad mistake that Dickstein might take it as proof that Tyrin was not an agent. There was no time for reflection. Moving quickly withTyrin thought-something of a spring in his step, Dickstein crossed to the counter and dropped a room key, then proceeded quickly out Into the street. The Israeli tail, Meier, put his newspaper on the table and followed. When the plate-glass door closed behind Meier, Tyrin got up, thinkingrm an agent following an agent following an agent. Wen, at least we keep each other in employment. He went Into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. He spoke into his radio. 'This is Twenty. I have Pirate.' There was no reply-the walls of the building were blocking his transmission. He got out of the elevator at the first floor and ran down the fire stairs, picking up his raincoat at the half landing. As soon as he was outside he tried the radio again. 'This, is Twenty, I have the Pirate.,' All right, Twenty. Thirteen has him too. Tyrin saw the mark crossing Cromwell Road. 'I'm follow. ing Meier,' he said into his radio.
Five and Twenty, both of you listen to me'. Do not follow. Have you got that-Five? Yes. Twenty? Tyrin said, 'Understood.' He stopped walking. and stood on the comer watching Meier and Dickstein disappear in the direction of Chelsea. Twenty, go back into the hotel. Get his room number. Book a room close to his. Call nte on the telephone as soon as it's done. 'Understood.' Tyrin turned back, rehearsing his dialogue: Excuse me, the fellow that just walked out of here, short an with glasses, I think I know him but he got into a cab before I could catch up with him ... his name is John but we all used to call him Jack, what room . . . ? As it turned out, none of that was necessary. Dickstein's key was still on the desk. Tyrin memorized the number. The desk clerk came over. 'Can I help your, 'I'd Eke a room,' Tyrin said.
He kissed her, and he was like a man who has been thirsty all day. He savored the smell of her skin and the soft motions of her lips. He touched her face and said, I'Ms, this, this is what I need.' They stared into each other's eyes, and the truth between them was like nakedness. He thought: I can do anything I want. The idea ran through his mind again and again like an incantation, a magic spell. He touched her body greedily. He stood face to face with her in the little blueand-yellow kitchen, looking into her eyes while he fingered the secret places of her body. Her red mouth opened a fraction and he felt her breath coming faster and hot on his face; he inhaled deeply so as to breathe the air from her. He thought: If I can do anything I want, so can she; and, as if she had read his mind, she opened his shirt, and bent to his chest, and took his nipple between her teeth, and sucked. The sudden, astonishing pleasure of it made him gasp aloud. He held her head gently in his hands and rocked to and fro a little to intensify the sensation. He thought: Anything I wantl He reached behind her, lifted her skirt, and feasted his eyes on the white panties clinging to her curves and contrasting with the brown, skin of her long legs. His right hand stroked her face and gripped her shoulder and weighed her breasts, his left hand moved over her hips and inside her panties and between her legs; and everything felt so good, so good, that he wished he had four hands to feel her with, six. Then, suddenly, he wanted to we her face, so he gripped her shoulder and made her stand upright, saying, 'I want to look at you.' Her eyes filled with tears, and he knew that these were sips not of sadness but of intense pleasure. Again they stared into each other's eyes, and this time it was not just truth between them but raw emotion gushing ft-om one to another in rivers, in torrents. Then he knelt at her feet like a supplicant First he lay his head on her thighs, feeling the heat of her body through her clothing Then he reached beneath her skirt with both hands, found the waist of her panties, and drew them down slowly, holding the shoes on her feet as she stepped out He got up from the floor. 'They were still standing on the spot where they had kissed when he had first come into the room.
