Brian Freemantle: Comrade Charlie

‘Is there a problem?’ asked Harkness, smiling at last at his own personal joke.

‘I hope not,’ said Charlie. ‘You can call upon other people, can’t you?’

Cold silence came down upon the room. Harkness did not speak for several moments and Charlie was unsure whether there was a nervous tug pulling at the corner of the man’s left eye. Harkness said: ‘ Other people?’

‘Well, I can’t go across, can I?’ said Charlie. ‘These new Orders of Conduct you’ve issued: they specifically state that all active operatives attend assessment courses every six months. I’ve got my instructions to go at the end of the week. Sorry about that.’

Laura Nolan looked up, smiling hopefully, when Charlie emerged. ‘What happened?’ she said.

‘The dick-head tripped over his own red tape,’ reported Charlie.

The girl frowned. ‘You did show him the proper respect, didn’t you?’

Charlie snapped his fingers, an exaggerated gesture. ‘Shit!’ he said. ‘I knew there was something!’

Emil Krogh came awake first and was glad because it gave him time to compose himself, get some life into his face and pull the lines up. Not that it was a real problem. Kept himself in shape in the exercise room at home and the lift-and-tuck job he’d had before he met Cindy had worked just fine, taken off ten years at least. Like the moderate but discreetly maintained tinting, allowing just the right amount of mature greying at the temples but literally not a hair’s breadth more; if a President could do it, why couldn’t he? No, it wasn’t the waking moment Krogh was uneasy about; it was the sleeping ones. And something Peggy, who knew about the face-lift, had said about five months earlier: Almost time for another one, honey: asleep your face drops in those old relax lines and we don’t want that, do we? Not that his wife really cared what he looked like. All she cared about was the kids and baby-minding the grandchildren, which was fine by Krogh because of the time and freedom it gave him in addition to what he manipulated for himself, which was a lot. But he was grateful for the warning. Which was why he was glad he’d awakened first. Goddamn miracle that he had, after what he and Cindy had done last night; he should feel exhausted but he didn’t. Felt fine. Another, perhaps the best, indication that he was in great shape.

There was only a sheet covering them and that hardly at all, and Krogh eased it further away, better to see Cindy’s nakedness. Christ, what a body! Tight and firm, not the slightest droop to those fantastic tits even lying like she was, the powder puff between her legs turned towards him, like the invitation he was definitely going to accept. Krogh wondered if he could get out of bed without disturbing her, to clean his teeth: he knew he was dragon-breathed after all that Mexican shit they’d eaten with those tequila drinks the previous night. But only clean his teeth, not shave. Cindy preferred him unshaven when he went down on her; said it was more exciting. Krogh checked his watch as he slipped off the bed. Plenty of time for that. A lot more, too. Still only eight a.m. and he’d been vague when he spoke to Peggy about what time he’d get home, just some time that evening and not to bother waiting dinner.

Krogh scrubbed his teeth, able from the condo window to see the ocean nudging in against the beach. It was a grey, clouds-against-the-water sort of day that visitors didn’t expect at Malibu and felt cheated to find. There were the usual joggers and exercise freaks and owners walking dogs and scuffing sand over their crap instead of collecting it up, like they were supposed to. On balance Krogh decided the outlook from Barbara’s apartment in San Francisco was better, the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge and the higgledy-piggledy buildings clutching to the side of Nob Hill. He rinsed his mouth and found some mouthwash in the bathroom cabinet and tried that, too, smiling to himself through tight-together lips as the thought came to him. He’d set the day aside for Cindy. But they’d already been together for two celebratory days because of the customary time allowance he’d built in to the East Coast trip and the meetings in Washington DC and at the Pentagon, signing the formal, committing contracts. So why didn’t he move on, to celebrate some more? He could fly up to San Francisco in less than an hour: meet Barbara for lunch and spend the afternoon in the sack with another equally attractive and inventive girl. He’d done it before, quite a few times, going straight from one to the other, always managing to make it happen for both of them, proving himself. He’d need to phone Barbara, of course. Let her know he was coming. But not from here, because the number would be recorded on the bill and it would be a dumb thing to do even though he looked after all the bills, the telephone and the condo payments and all the charges, just like he did for Barbara. Have to make it before ten: Barbara left for art classes promptly at ten and it was difficult to get her to a telephone if she were posing. Eight fifteen, Krogh saw: still plenty of time.

Cindy was awake when he went back into the bedroom. She’d pushed the sheet further off herself and brought one leg up so he could see better, and had her hand there although she wasn’t doing anything.

‘I almost started without you,’ she said. She was blonde, naturally so and able to prove it lying like that, and brown-eyed and utterly uninhibited, enough to worry him sometimes with some of the things she wanted to do. They’d met a year before in San Diego, at a convention where she’d been one of the promotional girls for an aircraft interior accessory firm. He’d balled her that first night and set her up in the Malibu condominium a month later.

‘It was good of you to wait.’

‘I thought you’d like me to.’

Krogh guessed she’d only just managed to hold back. Cindy devoured him, literally, not allowing him to lead in anything and he let her, doing what she guided him to do after she’d done what she wanted. He was finding it difficult to match her but she pulled away just at the right moment, cutting the lines on the little marble slab from the bedside drawer and taking two herself before offering him the chance. Krogh was frightened, although he was confident he was strong enough never to become addicted and so he’d done it with her a few times and he did it now, needing the help. It was good stuff and hit immediately and all their tiredness went and they did it all again, but longer this time.

‘Jesus!’ gasped Krogh, when they finally parted. ‘Sweet Jesus!’

‘You’re guaranteed the gold when fucking becomes an Olympic event,’ said Cindy. Always tell the guy it was the best it had ever been, she thought: worked every time. Actually it had been pretty terrific.

‘At the moment I couldn’t get up on the rostrum to collect it,’ said Krogh.

‘When are you leaving?’

It was gone ten, he saw; too late for Barbara now. He was down from the coke and felt absolutely drained, like he’d been wrung out to dry, and didn’t think he could have managed it with Barbara anyway. He said: ‘Afternoon somewhen: no particular hurry.’ The contract signing confirmed everything, which made it pretty fantastic, but his father-in-law was never at the plant in the afternoon and he was the only person it was really necessary to impress.

‘So we’ve got lots of time?’

Krogh looked nervously across the bed. ‘What for?’

She giggled. ‘Shopping. Just shopping. Well… looking, too.’

‘I thought we’d shopped already,’ said Krogh. That’s all they had done, apart from screw, ever since he’d arrived in Los Angeles: he reckoned he’d parted with enough to pay the taxes on Rodeo Drive and Wiltshire Boulevard for a year.