then onward to Madrid, his job now simply to make himself secure. Massinger's task was proving difficult, if not impossible. It had been too easy, like a gleam of sun before fog returns.
'Yes, Pavel — come on, Karel, what's the matter with you? Pissed again?'
Bayev laughed. 'Pavel!' he exclaimed. 'You old rat, how are you? What are you doing in Vienna?'
'Holiday — fun! And business, of course.'
'Not more orders — not more of this business. Does Kapustin never sleep?'
'Thank God,' Massinger breathed.
The telephone began ringing. Startled, Massinger stared at it. He did not dare to pick it up. Bayev's round head swung slowly, and bobbed like a bird's on his thick neck as he attempted to focus on the ringing telephone.
'Don't bother with it—!' Massinger said, inspired. 'No time for business now. I want you to show me some of the sights!'
Bayev's head swung back. 'But, what if—?'
'It's not Kapustin, and who else are you afraid of? I've got Kapustin's instructions. Come on, we'll talk as we walk, eh? I've got a hell of a thirst on me!'
Bayev laughed. The telephone stopped ringing but he did not seem to notice.
A customer, a customer, Massinger prayed in the silence, then he said: 'God, I'm thirsty!'
'Same old Pavel!'
'Well, why not? I do my job. Anyway, being a party drunk is a good cover. London society loves me!'
'And so they should. I know a nice new bar — the girls are delightful?'
'When was Kapustin here last?'
'Two weeks ago. We were running round with our arses hanging out trying to keep up with him. He was meeting the Englishman—'
'Aubrey?'
'Of course. Who else?'
Massinger paused. Here was the Pandora-box. Aubrey's ills lay inside it. And then he wondered: Is Aubrey in there, too? Is there something more? He could not bring himself to continue the conversation. Bayev sat patiently, hands folded in his lap, body upright, a machine awaiting a current of electricity. Massinger's hands quivered. He did not wish to discover…
The door opened. Hyde, preceded by a draught of cold air, entered the room. Massinger heard his ragged breathing and turned to him at once.
'Three cars,' Hyde struggled to say, clinging to the door handle. 'Three cars, and they're not friendly. What the bloody hell do we do with him?'
CHAPTER FIVE:
An Evening on the Town
'Well?' Hyde repeated. 'What do we do with him? Not to mention ourselves?'
Massinger turned his gaze back to Bayev's face. He seemed unaware, untroubled by the collapse of the situation in which he believed himself to be; as if he had been switched off until required.
'I don't know — how close are they?'
'They're watching at the moment, cars drawn back maybe thirty yards on either side of ours. They'll be looking for our car first — then us. They'll try not to harm him, but don't you reckon on walking away.'
'How did they—?'
'Christ knows — it doesn't matter! Get that bugger on his feet, Massinger.'
'He can't be moved—'
'He'd better bloody well be, if you haven't finished with him!' Hyde moved into the room and through rather than across the heavy white carpet. He studied Bayev's simpleton expression and vacant eyes, which had not followed him as he moved. 'Christ, he's well away. Have you finished with him?'
'By no means—'
'Then we'd better keep our hands on him. We might be a little bit safer in his company. Help me get him down to the car. We can't barricade ourselves in here.'
'It might be dangerous to move him.'
'And fatal if we don't!' He looked up at Massinger. He was bending still in front of Bayev like an exhausted runner or an animal tensed to spring. 'You can ask him questions in the car. He's not going to bloody well know the difference!'
'Very well—'
'Get his coat — it's hanging up in the hall.'
Hyde crossed to the window and peered through a crack in the curtains. Their car appeared unguarded, undetected. Massinger returned with Bayev's coat.
'You talk to him in Russian,' Hyde instructed. 'Keep him calm.'
Massinger nodded, and then bent to lift Bayev by the arms.
'Come on, Karel, old man — you've had one too many, again!'
Hyde raised his eyebrows in what might have been a compliment as Massinger laughed and patted Bayev on the shoulder-blades. They shrugged him into his overcoat.
'Right — weight on you, please,' Hyde instructed, loosening the pistol in its shoulder holster. 'Just in case.'
'Come on, Karel — you need a breath of fresh air!'
'It's cold!' Bayev exclaimed like a child.
'Where did he get that from?' Hyde murmured as they slipped sideways through the door into the apartment's small hallway. 'Is he coming round?'
'I don't know — damn! The benzedrine syringe. I've forgotten it — wait here, old man! Haven't paid the bill!' Bayev sagged against Hyde and did not move, as if once more switched off. Hyde watched the front door of the flat, hand hovering near the breast of his overcoat. Massinger reappeared, thrusting a small black case into his pocket.
As soon as Bayev saw the second figure in the hall, he said, 'It's cold, Pavel — bloody cold out there!'
'You need to wake up, old man. Come on!'
'Keep the bloody noise down when we hit the street. Put your hand over his mouth if you have to. Right?'
'Right.'
Hyde leaned forward and unlatched the door. He levered it open with one foot. The narrow staircase was empty.
'Right, then. Quick as you can, down the little wooden hill.'
'Forward march, Karel old man!'
They bundled Bayev down the stairs, Hyde leading, the weight of the Russian across his shoulder and back, while Massinger leaned backwards, taking the strain. He tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his arthritic hip. Bayev seemed drunk in his inability to negotiate the individual stairs, stumbling and giggling. He had evidently accepted the suggestion that he had drunk too much, and Massinger inwardly cursed this further complication. They leaned heavily against the front door to the street, breathing hard. Bayev was still giggling. Massinger's hip was burning with pain.
'Straight across the street to the car. The drunk act might just fool them, but don't let him start bawling in Russian. Don't stop, don't even hesitate — they won't shoot if they do recognise us, not with him between us. Ready?'
'Ready.'
Hyde drew the Heckler & Koch. The plastic of the butt was warm from his chest and arm. He levered a round into the chamber, and then nodded.
'OK, here goes…'
