Two flights up, a radio was going full blast. Clear above it a voice yelled, ‘Charlie! Bloody Charlie—where are you?’ It could have been another parrot.
I found the first door on the right, adjusted my tie nervously, took a deep breath and went in without knocking.
The room was neat and tidy; just two chairs and a kitchen table. Anyone could keep a room like that ship-shape. There was a window that looked out to a blank wall three feet away. Sitting behind the table was a grey-haired woman who must have been in her sixties. She wore a neat blue suit and a tan-coloured blouse and there was a small blue hat on the table in front of her. She had one of those healthy, wise, happy faces that belong to favourite aunts, and on one hand I saw a nice dress ring, blue-enamel set with a cluster of pearls. Her earrings matched the ring. A wealthy favourite aunt who didn’t neglect her looks and spent freely on clothes. She gave me a charming smile and put her cigarette down on the ashtray in front of her.
‘Mr Carver?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do please sit down—and get over your surprise.’
I sat down on the other chair and began to get over my surprise.
‘Did that horrible Ankers make you buy something?’ Her voice was strictly Cheltenham and Girton and stands-the-clock-still-at-ten-to-three-and-will-there-be-honey-or-something-for-tea. Maybe, I thought, I am dreaming and back to the age of fourteen and she’s going to take me out to a matinee of The Sound of Music, and then tea at Fortnum’s afterwards.
‘A parrot,’ I said. ‘Called Alfred. Ten pounds.’
‘He’s incorrigible. If you wish we’ll refund the money. We’re glad to always . . . that is, with our more indigent callers.’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll send the parrot to Mr V. E. Semichastny. Its language should be useful in brushing up the idiomatic English of his K.G.B. boys.’
‘And girls.’ She gave a clear tinkle of laughter—bright, and even a little coquettish, the way aunts are with favourite, and fast-growing nephews. Damn it, I was beginning to like her. To keep things in perspective, I deliberately thought of poor old strangled London-Scottish tie, and of Wilkins. My frown showed.
Full of understanding, she said, ‘Now the surprise is over and you want to get down to business?’
‘That’s why I’m here. For instructions. Though personally I can’t see why one of your Embassy people from Kensington Palace Gardens couldn’t have gone straight to Sutcliffe with whatever proposition you have to make.’
‘No? It’s simple. If anything goes wrong we wish to be able to say truthfully that there has been no official contact at any state department level. And anyway, most successful diplomatic matters are usually initiated by an unofficial, private approach.’
‘Since when was kidnapping classified as a diplomatic move?’
‘Since, I suppose, Mr Carver, Helen of Troy’s time—or well before, no doubt. Do I detect a note of antagonism in your voice?’
‘I’m trying to get it there. I think this whole business stinks.’
‘Naturally. But that’s another argument. However, let me assure you that as long as you do as you are told, no harm will come to your secretary. You have a deep feeling of affection and loyalty to her. That’s nice to find these days—’
‘And very convenient for you.’
‘Naturally. One must make the most of the means at one’s disposal. Do smoke if you wish.’
I lit a cigarette. As I did so she reached down to the side of her chair and brought up a blue suede handbag and opened it. She pulled out an envelope and slid it across to me. I saw that it was unsealed.
‘Are these the instructions?’
‘Those are the terms of the settlement which we wish to make with your Mr Sutcliffe.’
‘He’s not my Mr Sutcliffe. I like people who find they can only function if they have hearts.’
She smiled, and nodded indulgently.
‘You can read them at your leisure. Of course, you won’t show them to anyone else except Mr Sutcliffe. I’d like you to deliver them within the next twenty-four hours.’
‘And when I see him—how much am I supposed to know? I mean about Duchêne and the other people involved? He’s quite capable of putting me under the lights and beating the facts out of me. I might have to tell him about this place and you.’
‘Yes, I understand that. I suggest you tell him all you know. There’s no need for deceit—and Mr Sutcliffe well understands the conventions which have to be observed. He is not going to do anything that will put William Dawson in jeopardy. This affair has now gone far above any cloak-and-dagger level. I rely not only on your good sense, but on that of Mr Sutcliffe as well. And believe me, Mr Carver, we have made a close study of both of you.’
‘Anybody who thinks he understands Sutcliffe is in for a shock. For instance, from what I tell him he might pick you up and make you say where Dawson is being held.’
‘It would be a waste of his time, because I don’t know where Dawson is—yet.’
‘I’ll bet.’
She gave a graceful little shrug of her shoulders and stood up. ‘You’re from Devon, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ I was on my feet for a lady, a nephew well aunt-trained. ‘Honiton.’
‘Ah, yes—that’s where they make that lovely lace. Daddy used to take us to Devon for holidays when we were young. Torquay. They were wonderful days.’
‘Aren’t they now?’
She gave me almost a roguish look. ‘Oh, yes, indeed.’
I moved to the door to open it for her. ‘How did it go?’ I asked. ‘Cheltenham? Girton? Nice upper-class family?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how the jump from there to the K.G.B.?’
‘It was a personal matter—and a painful one at first.’
‘But not now?’
‘No. I thoroughly enjoy it.’
‘Even though you go round carrying a spray gas gun in your handbag?’
She laughed. ‘You have quick eyes, Mr Carver. Yes, even though I do that. After all, you might have
