with any questions at the moment. He was too nervous, and would naturally be loyal to Sarah. Besides, I might as well get to grips with the apartment, then hit him with everything in one go.
There was visible relief in his face. I went on, in a more upbeat tone, 'You have the keys for her apartment?'
'Sure do! Shall we go up there now?'
I nodded, and sucked down the rest of my coffee while he pulled some notes from a slim, tidy wallet to pay for the coffees. At the pay desk he carefully folded the receipt and tucked it away.
'Expenses,' he sighed.
He carried on as we walked out onto 23rd.
'I don't know when she's coming back. Do you?' He held open the glass door for me.
I thought, Who's supposed to be asking the questions here?
'No, I'm afraid I don't. I'm just here to do the review.' I thought I'd leave it at that.
I didn't know if he'd seen how a PV review was really carried out which wasn't like this--but he nodded as if he knew it was all part of the procedure.
'Did you manage to park near?'
'Just around the corner, on M.'
'Well done, good boy!'
I started to go to the right, toward the car, thinking we were about to go for a drive.
'No, no, silly,' he said, pointing the opposite way.
'She lives at the end of the block, on N.'
It was strange; the one thing I didn't get from Lynn was Sarah's address.
Mind you, I didn't ask. It must have been shock at the thought of seeing her again.
As we walked the short distance along the narrow, tree-lined street to the next junction, I saw what he was pointing at. The apartment block was right on the corner of 23rd and N. Its jutting balconies and combination of red brick and white stone made it look like a game of Jenga played with Good & Plenty candy. I couldn't make up my mind whether that was how it had been designed, or if the builders had been drunk when they put it all together.
We carried on toward the junction and I decided to chance a question. I knew I'd resolved not to press him just yet, but this was one that I was very curious to have an answer to.
'Tell me about boyfriends,' I said.
He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and disapproval, and sounded quite defensive.
'I don't think that has anything to do with this PV' He paused, then said, 'But yes, as a matter of fact, I do ...'
'No, no, not you,' I laughed.
'Sarah. Do you know of any men that she's been seeing?'
'Ohhh, Sarah. None at all. Well, not after what happened last time.'
His tone just begged the question.
'Why, what happened?'
'Well, poor Sarah was in love with a guy from the real Foreign Office.
He was back in London, but he came here from time to time. They would disappear for a week or two, to the middle of nowhere. Not my sort of stamping ground, let me tell you.'
I looked at him expecting to share a smile, but he was thinking of the next bit and had begun to look sad.
'Something very unfortunate happened, and I'm afraid it was me who was the bringer of bad news ...'
He was waiting for the pan to reply, and I obliged: 'What bad news?'
'Well, I get a call from Sarah, telling me that Jonathan'--he took a breath, getting really sparked up about him--'is arriving at the airport and she wants me to pick him up and take him straight to the restaurant she's booked for a surprise dinner. They planned to leave for the lakes the next day.'
I nodded to show that I was hanging on every word.
'I get to the airport to pick him up. He's never seen me before, of course, but I've seen photographs of him. Anyway, so there I am, waiting.
Out he comes, arm-in-arm with another woman. All over her like a wet dress, I ask you! I put my name card down sharpish, I can tell you, and followed to see what happened next. I even got in the taxi line with them and listened. She was called Anna .. . Ella .. . Antonella--that was it.
Anyway, a stupid name if you ask me, but spot on for a Sloaney slapper, which was what she looked. Too many pearls around her neck; didn't suit her ...' He left a gap. Maybe he wanted me to feel part of the show.
I said, 'What happened next?'
'Well, what was I to do? I call Sarah at the restaurant an hour later to say that I couldn't find him. She says, 'Not a problem, he's called me on my cell phone.' You can imagine, Nick, I struggled all night about what to do. Do I tell her or do I not? Well, it's none of my business, is it? Anyway, the next day the decision was made for me.' The smile on his face told me that it had been a good one. He was trying to suppress a giggle.
'Go on.'
'Well, poor old Anna whats-her-face had been mugged downtown. In such a mess she was, lost her money, cards, the poor girl was in hospital for days, you know. Well, who does she ask the police to contact but dear Jonathan, care of the embassy? The call comes through, I get to hear about it, and guess what--it only turns out he's her ! So, I had the contact number and she was in hospital. Poor girl. I suppose I feel sorry for her now.'
I laughed, but wondered who in their right mind would two-time with another woman when they already had Sarah.
'What happened?'
He held his hand up, with his index finger folded down.
'The bitch lost his finger; she slammed the car door on his hands! That will teach him to mess with Sarah. If you knew her like I do, Nick, you'd know that she's a wonderful woman. Far too good for a man like that.' Someone must have powered up a mobile near us--Metalhead was off on a tangent.
'And she wears such wonderful clothes, you wouldn't believe!'
As we got to the junction I saw that the entrance was on the N Street side. A Latino in a blue polo shirt and green work trousers was hosing down the street directly outside the main doors, while the greenery along the front of the building was getting a drenching from the irrigation system.
The main doors were made of copper-colored alloy and glass. To the left, a brass plate welcomed us to the building; to the right, a touchscreen TV entry system made sure the welcome wasn't abused. Metal Mickey took out a long plastic key, which looked as if it should be used to wind up a kid's toy. He slipped it into the keyhole and the doors parted.
We walked into a world of black marble floors, dark-blue walls and ceilings you could free fall from. The elevators were ahead of us, about twenty meters farther down the atrium. To the right of them was a semicircular desk--very Terence Conran, with a shiny wooden top and black marble wall beneath. Behind it sat an equally smart and efficient-looking porter, who would have looked at home on the door of a five-star hotel. It appeared that Metal Mickey knew him quite well. He greeted him with a cheery, 'Why, hello, Wayne, how are you today?'
Wayne was fortyish, and obviously having a really good day.
'I'm very good,' he smiled.
'How are you doing?'
It was obvious that he didn't really know Metal Mickey's name or he would have said it, but he recognized the face.
'I'm just Jim Dandy,' Mickey grinned. Then he looked over at me and said, 'This is Nick, a friend of Sarah's. He's going to be using the apartment for a few days while Sarah's away, so I'll show him what's what.'
I smiled at Wayne and shook his hand, just to prove to him that I wasn't a threat. Wayne smiled back.
'Anything you need, Nick, just dial HELP on the in-house phone and it'll be done.'
'Thanks a lot. I'll need Sarah's parking space, if she has one.'
'You just tell me when you want to collect the pass key.' He beamed.
There was one more thing I needed. I leaned toward Wayne, as if letting him into a secret.
'If Sarah comes in, please don't tell her I'm here. I want to surprise her.'
