three of them talked desultorily, then started, casually at first, then with increasing urgency, to search through their pockets: from where Bruno sat it would appear that a certain degree of acrimony, not to say downright recrimination, had crept into their conversation. Finally Roebuck scowled, made a dismissive gesture, rose and crossed to Bruno’s table.
He said sadly: “Roebuck, begging for alms. Not one of us bothered to check if the others were carrying money. As it turns out, we don’t have a cent. Rather, we do have thousands of cents, but we doubt whether they’ll accept dollars here and Kan Dahn appears to be against washing up in the kitchen.
Now, if I had comrades in distress —”
Bruno smiled, brought out a wallet, handed some notes to Roebuck, who thanked him and left. Bruno and Maria ordered an omelette apiece.
Alex, shivering in the cold on the pavement, waited until the food had been served, crossed the street and went into a phone booth. He fed in money, dialled a number and said: “Alex.” “Yes?”
“I followed the man and girl to the Black Swan. They’re beginning to eat so it looks as if they’ll be there for some time yet. They spoke to two other people, at another table, after their arrival, before going to their own place.”
“You sure you have the right ones?”
“I have their photographs, Colonel. A third man came in shortly after the man and girl had sat down at their own table. He sat with the other two men for some time then went across to this man Bruno. He seemed to be borrowing money, at least I saw notes change hands.”
Sergius said: “Do you know any of those three men?” “No, sir. But one of them I’d recognize if I didn’t see him again for twenty years. A giant, the biggest man I’ve ever seen, bigger even than Angelo.”
“I won’t award myself any prizes for guessing who that is. Come back here. No, wait. Stay out of sight so that no one inside the cafe can see you. I’ll send Vladimir and Josef down to relieve you. I’ll give them their instructions. You just have the point those people out to them. A car will be there in a few minutes.”
Inside the cafe, Maria said: “What’s wrong, Bruno?”
“What should be wrong?”
“You looked troubled.”
“I am troubled. D-day approaches with uncommon haste. Just about a week now. Wouldn’t you be troubled if you had to get inside that damned Lubylan?”
“It’s not just that. You’ve become remote from me. Cool. Distant. I’ve done something you don’t like? Said something wrong?”
“Don’t be silly.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Please.”
“Is this affection? Or something more? Or something else?”
“Why do you hurt me so?”
“I don’t want to.” His voice lacked the ring of conviction.
“Have you ever been an actress?”
She took her hand away. There was bafflement in her face, and pain. She said: “I can’t think what I’ve done wrong, I can’t think what I’ve said wrong — and you do want to hurt me. Suddenly you want to hurt me. Why don’t you slap me, then? Right here in public? That way you can hurt both me and my pride. I don’t understand you, I just don’t understand you.” She pushed back her chair. “I can find the way.” It was Bruno’s turn to take her hand. Whether this was affection, appeal or just an attempt to restrain her it was difficult to say. He said: “I wish I could.”
“Could what?”
“Find the way.” He looked at her, his brow slightly corrugated.
“You’ve been how long with the CIA?”
“Nearly four years.” The bafflement was back in her face.
“Who appointed you to this particular job?”
“Dr Harper. Why?”
“I thought it was this man called Charles.” “He appointed me. Dr Harper made the suggestion. He was very insistent that I should be the one who should come along on this trip.”
“I’ll bet he was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Merely congratulations. To Dr Harper. On his impeccable good taste. Who’s Charles?”
“Just Charles.”
“He’s not Charles. He has another name.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“He wouldn’t have told me. I’d hoped you might.”
“You know that we can’t divulge things such as that.” “Well, I like that. I’m going to risk my damned life for the CIA and they can’t even trust me with a straightforward piece of information like that. I thought that at least by this time I could trust you or you could trust me. It seems I was wrong — on the second count, anyway. You’re willing that I should die but you’re not even willing to tell me that. Trust and faith and loyalty — those are great things, aren’t they? Or used to be. There doesn’t seem to be too much of it around nowadays.”
“His name is Admiral George C. Jamieson.” Bruno looked at her for a long moment, then his face slowly broke into a wide smile that transformed his whole expression. She snatched her hand away and looked at him furiously. At their table Kan Dahn nudged Roebuck and Manuelo in turn: all three watched the scene with interest.
“You horrid man! You deceitful, devious, conniving human being — if I can call you that! And you had the audacity to ask me if I had ever been an actress. I never have been but even if I had I could never hold a candle to you as an actor. Why did you do it? I don’t deserve that.”
Roebuck said: “She’s getting madder by the minute.”
“How little you know of human nature,” Kan Dahn said.
“She’ll be proposing to him inside thirty seconds.”
Bruno said: “I apologize. But I had to.”
“Had to find out if I would trust you?”
“It’s terribly important to me. Please forgive me.” He took her unresisting hand again and examined its ringless state with care. He said: “It looks pretty bare to me.” “What does?”
“You know that we’re only supposed to be in love?” “Yes.” It was Maria’s turn to be silent. “Or do you think we should stop supposing?” Her voice was hesitant, unsure. “I don’t think. I know. Do you love me, Maria?”
The voice was a whisper but the answer immediate. “Yes.” She looked at her left hand and smiled. “It does look a little bare, doesn’t it?”
Kan Dahn leant back against the booth in an expansive fashion. “What did your Uncle Kan Dahn tell you? Somebody buy me a drink.”
Bruno said: “Sure?”
“Even the most intelligent man can ask the most stupid questions. Can’t you see it?”
“I think I can. At least, I hope I can.”
“I’ve been in love with you for weeks.” She had stopped smiling now. “In the early days I used to watch you blindfolded on that trapeze. Then after a while I had to leave the auditorium and go outside and be sick. Now I don’t dare go inside at all and I’m still sick. A fraction of a second too early or too late…” She broke off and her eyes were wet. “But I can still hear the music, your music, and when it begins I die inside.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Of course I will, you lunkhead.” She was crying openly now.
“There’s no need for such language. And I’d like to point out that Kan Dahn, Manuelo and Ron are taking the greatest interest in the proceedings. I have a feeling they’re taking bets on us. I’ve also got the feeling that I’m going to suffer when they get me alone.”
“I can’t see them.” Bruno passed his handkerchief and she mopped her eyes. “Yes, they are looking a bit this way, aren’t they?” Unconsciously crumpling the handkerchief in her hand, she turned her gaze back to Bruno. “I love you, I want to marry you — isn’t that old-fashioned — I’d marry you tomorrow — but I can’t love and marry the greatest aerialist in the world. I know I can’t. I think you know I can’t. Do you want me to be sick all my life?”
“That wouldn’t be nice for either of us. Well, it’s all living and learning — I thought blackmail normally started
