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“How long do you suppose it takes?” Joe asked vaguely.
Armitage shrugged. “No idea. Not something I was ever involved with, thank God. Personally or professionally. I never volunteered for Vice.”
“Four days is the usual.” The information came, surprisingly, from the driver. “It’s a German what runs that place. Bleedin’ Boche! They’re up to all them tricks! Poor young lady! On top of her other problems … It’d break your heart if it didn’t make you so mad.” Into their astonished silence he added, lugubriously: “It can take anything between one night and a week. If they come out at all.”
CHAPTER 10
After a re-invigorating cold shower, Joe put on evening clothes and made his way in di
Armitage was doing a skilful job of talking entertainingly of his experiences in his new country, largely to cover for his boss, who appeared abstracted and subdued. Joe remembered with a rush of good feeling that, in the front lines, Sergeant Armitage had always had the ability to charm the ear of an exhausted and fearful company with his irreverent wit. Kingstone, his glass of scotch remaining full and u
The startled silence that followed this a
“Mr. Roosevelt knows London well?” Joe asked politely.
“I’ll say so! He’s been crossing the Atlantic since he was two years old. In his young years he spent several months of every year in Europe. Two or more summers were spent at school in Germany. We have the only American president ever to be arrested four times in one day by the German police!”
“Arrested?” Joe was alarmed and curious in equal measure.
“Say rather—caught and warned. For picking cherries, ru
“Ah! That other carefree world before the war,” said Cottingham, shaking his moustache in a rush of Edwardian nostalgia.
“He’s been back since. Constantly. His wife, Eleanor, was the first woman to be allowed a formal visit to the Front after the Armistice to witness the devastation.”
“Ouch!” Cottingham made his disapproval clear. “And a harrowing time was had by all? No place for a woman!”
“She’s a very special lady,” Kingstone said with a grin. “Now—if she’d been there at the Front two years earlier—and in an executive position—there might have been a better outcome. Her husband is no isolationist as far as his personal choices go. With communications at the level we see them these days—he’s practically sitting at this table with us, gentlemen.”
Not sure whether they’d just heard a lightening of mood or a tightening of screws, they wished him a good evening, all guessing that he was secretly retiring to wait for Natalia to return. Cottingham got to his feet and left the bar a minute ahead of his charge in a well-practised routine.
“Does that bloke ever get any relief?” Armitage asked. “The Super, I mean.”
“He’ll go home when he’s checked the night shift unit’s in place upstairs. We’re the round-the-clock mugs who’ll be red-eyed by midnight.”
“You’re expecting her to come back, aren’t you?”
“Natalia, do you mean?” Joe asked i
Armitage nodded without much enthusiasm.
“We’ll seduce her with Dover Sole, sozzle her with Sancerre and then put her to the question. We’ll find out what she was up to in Marylebone and when very precisely she last set eyes on Miss Kirilovna. Look, Bill, I’m going to take a back seat and let you speak to her. I appear not to impress the lady but I think she’s fallen for your rugged Yankie charm. But let me pop an ace up your sleeve. You ought to hear that she slipped out last night and went to see that very film. We had her followed. It should be still fresh in her mind when she speaks of it on her return and she’ll use it to set up an alibi for tonight’s excursion. The girl’s clearly an amateur. Though I do wonder what made her think she could lead the combined forces of the CID and the FBI down the garden path! You could trip her up with one well-placed question, Bill. Well, play it how you think best. Shall we go and prop up the bar and have a cocktail while we’re waiting? We’ll be more visible there to anyone who wants to greet us. I’m having another of these, how about you? A martini? Of course.”
She joined them boldly at the bar, pushing between them, only moments later. Her face was flushed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Her hair smelled of cheap cigarettes, as though it had caught and filtered the thick atmosphere of a picture house. Or the upper deck of a London bus, Joe thought, cynically.
“I’ll have a ‘gin and it,’ if anyone’s offering,” she said. “Blimey! You need something to steady the nerves after all that screaming.”
“Screaming?” Joe asked. “My dear! What on earth have you been up to?”
“There were two of ’em at it. One was Fay Wray. And the other voice I heard was mine! I had to dab my eyes with my hanky at the end where that poor old ape gets shot to bits and drops dead off the skyscraper.” She pushed a quizzical face up close to Joe’s. “Have I made my mascara run?”
“Yes, you have. But don’t worry about it—it gives you the huge-eyed, i
“Have you seen it? It’s on at the Empire.”
Joe admitted that he had.
“I saw it in New York before we sailed,” said Armitage. “Come and tell me what you thought of it.” He tucked her arm under his and led her away to a table while Joe summoned up fresh drinks and wasted time at the bar observing the two of them. They were talking a lot and smiling freely. Joe guessed that Armitage was leading her on, waiting for the right moment to trip her up. In her guilt and confusion she might let slip something useful. Too easy. Joe expected that the sergeant would wait until Joe was in earshot before he made his move.