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Love and spy: An Ideal City for a Murder

A picture that accidentally fell out of a book excited a host of recollections in the narrator, a Russian-English interpreter and spy twenty years before, who had accompanied a small British delegation during its two days visit to Moscow in the early nineties of the past century. The delegation consisted of the top manager of a big British arms company – his name is Robert Hewlett - and his secretary Mary Kilgorn. The narrator – his name is Sergey - is about forty, very handsome (and he’s fully aware of this fact as it soon comes out, because he uses his good looks and charm as a means of worming secrets out of the women he comes into close contact with). The novel is set in the early nineties Moscow with its horrible realities of wild capitalism, raging criminality, total corruption and degradation of moral values.

DaoistVlxFB1 · สมจริง
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29 Chs

15

In the corridor my cell-phone rang. It was Ann.

"Were you looking for me?" her tone was tired and understandably anxious.

"Yes, I wanted to know how things are going. I'm worried about you."

"You are so sweet, Eric. I almost regret having involved you into my troubles. I said 'almost' because I'm terribly glad having met you. Now I've got a few important things to do, then I'll be free as the wind. I'd like to invite you to dinner with me, if you don't mind."

"When, tonight? That would be great, though I don't know if I can make it before midnight. Is it ok with you?"

"Oh", she laughed. "It looks like more a date, than a late dinner. Ok, you call me then, when you're free. Bye."

Boy, am I going to sleep tonight at all?

It was a quarter past seven. I went down to the restaurant and told the headwaiter about a table for two at eight o'clock.

He shook his head doubtfully, as he leafed his notebook:

"That would be a problem. We're practically full tonight. Ah, we have a spare private room, it would be a bit more expensive. Ok?"

"Ok", I said with a sigh, hoping to be paid from the extraordinary expense fund run by Pavel.

Now I had to call Mary. She answered at the fifth ring.

"We're having dinner at eight in our restaurant, in a private room, if you don't mind. There were no other seats available, the restaurant is popular. That's in half an hour. Will you make it?"

"I'll be there. Do you have a decent dress coat to wear?" I caught a joking intonation in her voice, it was a good sign.

"I'm afraid not. Is it a problem for you?"

"No."

"So see you there."

Now I had to take a shower and prepare myself for a long night. I returned to Pavel's room and found him talking on the cell-phone. His voice was strained though he tried to seem matter-of-fact and even nonchalant.

"Call me, if you find out something", he said as I entered the room, and hang up.

"Could you give me a couple of hundreds of dollars for tonight's dinner, eh?" I said, as I stripped myself of the shirt going to the bathroom.

"Why so much?" he said as he reached for his attaché case under the table.

"It would be in a private room," I shouted from the bathroom. "There were no other free tables. Have you found out anything?"

"Not yet. At least I found someone willing to help."

I wanted to ask Pavel what I should put on going to a dinner with a lady, but refrained in time looking at Pavel's exhausted face. It wasn't the case to be frivolously humorous.

And, besides, there wasn't much choice. In the wardrobe I found my usual raspberry club jacket I used when going to social gatherings, a pink shirt and fashionable (at least they were so two years before) dark blue trousers. The shoes were the same as I used during the day, but they had to be refreshed with a spit and a brush. In absolute silence I put it all on before the mirror door, looked back on Pavel who sat with his head between his hands, and said:

"Try to focus on something else, it's no use thinking about it all the time. Do research on the Internet."

"Nina rang me up," he said in a hollow voice. "I had to tell her. I couldn't make up anything. Now she's mad. I can't go home."

"You shouldn't," I said. "You must be on the case."

Pavel jumped to his feet and cried raising both hands:

"But I have to do something! I can't just stay here and wait! Tell me what I shall do."

I came up to him, put his hands on Pavel's shoulders and said gravely:

"I told you what to do. Try, perhaps, to remember other persons you can trust and ask them for help. There's nothing more you can do now. Remember how quickly they got your personal data? Ask the guys in charge of the personal information in your department who had asked recently, today, your address or family background, perhaps they could do it in non official, or indirect way, like common friends who wanted to pleasantly surprise you or something like that." My considerations regarding the first necessary steps were obvious to any minimally smart detective, Pavel was usually smart, but not in that moment, with his mind heavily deranged by the personal tragedy waiting to happen.

Anyhow, he listened to my suggestions with intense attention and fixed eyes, obviously thinking of something else, then nodded and grabbed the cell-phone.

I went out, after giving a quick brush to my shoes.