Len Deighton - Spy Line

'Friend? George can't stand him. George detests Germans; you know that, Bernard. He turned away the offer of a Mercedes agency. He won't even buy a second-hand German car for resale.'

'So why do you come here?'

'Ita is one of my best friends. She's a sweet girl. We go shopping together. And when it's my turn to arrange one of my charity lunches, you'd be amazed how many of those ladies want to meet a princess.'

'I was wondering when I could collect that fur coat,' I said, having given up hope of being able to introduce the subject with more subtlety.

'It was George who first met them,' said Tessa. 'He met Joppi at Mass; George always attends Mass, you know. You'd never guess that's where they met would you?'

'No, I wouldn't have guessed that.' I watched Joppi laughing with Gloria and hugging her as they danced together and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to visit us out in the sticks, and have dinner one evening?'

'We'd love that, Bernard my sweet. But please don't say bring that bloody coat because the answer is no.'

'It's just that – '

'Your Gloria is a nice girl. I don't know her very well but from what I see of her I like her. And I like the way she worries about you: you're a lucky man. But I'm not going to deliver Fiona's fur coat for you to give to her. It's just not on, Bernard. It's wrong and I'm surprised you don't see that.'

'Come to dinner anyway,' I said.

'It's almost summer,' said Tessa.

'Yes,' I said as the music stopped.

'Do look,' said Tessa, her amused voice not concealing the malicious pleasure that coloured her view of the world. 'He's probably propositioning her now. He'll invite her to go to Rome for the weekend, or to the penthouse they keep in New York. It must be very tempting.'

It was no use showing anger. No one was exempt from Tessa's Schadenfreude. 'It's getting late,' I said, 'and I have to be up early tomorrow.'

Generously George insisted upon us going back to his Mayfair apartment for a nightcap. And then, leaving Gloria and Tessa to chat, he drove me back to collect the car near Dicky's house. That house of Joppi's,' said George suddenly. 'It's full of rot.'

'Is it?' I said.

'I went upstairs to use the bathroom. My God! You should see the woodwork. And it's established in the walls… the plaster. You didn't notice?'

'No,' I said.

'To get rid of that, the whole house will have to be gutted.'

'Did you tell him?'

'And be the bringer of bad news? No. Poor fellow. I couldn't bring myself to spoil his evening.'

'Didn't he have it surveyed?'

'He listened too much to that fancy architect – all stainless steel and indoor plants – I can't stand those fellows.'

'No chance of redress?'

'Suing the builders, you mean? Compensation? No chance at all. They were right cowboys. Those people form a new company for every job, and go bust as soon as they are paid. Those people work like that.'

'Poor Prince Joppi,' I said.

'Yes, poor devil,' said George solemnly. Had Tessa not told me George's real feelings, I might have thought he meant it. He was a good driver, careful, alert and considerate of other road users. When a young fellow in a dented Ford came roaring past him on the wrong side and gave a toot on the horn to reprimand George for driving too safely, George just pulled over and made more room for him.

'Stupid bastard!' I said angrily.

'Perhaps he had a bad day,' said George mildly. Sometimes I wondered whether it was his piety that provided him with such remarkable tolerance. If so, it was a convincing argument for Roman Catholicism. 'You're a man of the world, Bernard,' said George suddenly.

I was about to give a flippant answer but I realized that George had something on his mind. So I grunted and said I would like to think so.

'Any experience of drug addiction? Cocaine, heroin, that kind of thing?'

'I'm not an expert.'

'There's a fellow hanging around Tessa… She was talking about drugs the other night, saying that there is a lot of nonsense talked about them, and I don't doubt there is.'

George went silent. I said, 'I'd better get this clear, George. You think this fellow is selling drugs to her?'

'Yes, Bernard, I do think so,' he said cautiously.

'Give me his name and address.'

'I don't want to overreact,' said George. 'That could bring about the very thing I'm so anxious to avoid.'

'There's no harm in checking,' I said. 'I know good people who would give you some answers within a couple of days.'

'Calls himself Bill Turton but I wouldn't give too much importance to that. He's a prosperous-looking American; not young.' Having started to confide in me, he stopped and thought about it for a moment. 'It wouldn't be so easy, Bernard. He's one of those people without a fixed address: hotels, clubs, rented places, one country to another. Never stays long anywhere.'

'Is this what Tessa tells you?'

'She invited him up for drinks the other evening. I didn't like him at all. I could see he was charming and friendly and all that but I had an instinctive reaction.'

'You may be worrying unnecessarily.'

'He was there at the Joppis' tonight.'

'Was he?' I was surprised and wished George had brought the matter up when there was an opportunity for me to see the man.

'Always lots of that sort of muck available at the Joppis'. Did you go upstairs?'

'Upstairs? No.'

'One of the rooms upstairs… They think it's very smart and sophisticated.'

'I noticed that there was a mood… a sort of hysteria.'

'Hysteria. Yes, that's the word isn't it? I can't imagine how people can bear poisoning their own bloodstream with chemicals. Do you know that Tessa won't eat processed food because of the chemical additives? And yet she…'

'I'm sorry, George.'

'That's why she wanted to go. Did you notice how animated she became?'

'Not any more than usual. She's always in high spirits, you know that, George.'

'A big fellow: grey wavy hair and glasses.'

'There were a lot of people like that,' I said.

'This fellow has a little rim beard and no moustache. Curious-looking cove.'

'I didn't see him,' I said truthfully. It could have been a description of Mr Bart Johnson, but Bart Johnson was dead.

It was the morning after Prince Joppi's party that I was walking along South Audley Street and bumped into Rolf Mauser. Rolf was about seventy years old, a wartime artillery captain who didn't let anyone forget that he'd won the coveted Knight's Cross. He was an unprincipled rogue but he had an engaging manner, and when he worked for my father, and later as the barman in Lisl's hotel, I saw a lot of him. It was Rolf Mauser who'd shown me how to pick a lock and how to hold a playing card out of sight while shuffling the rest of the pack. When I was a child I'd been devoted to him and even though I'd long since seen him for what he really was I'd never completely shaken off some of that awe. Although for me Rolf had become an elderly figure of fun, underlying the fun there was something ruthless and frightening.

I was surprised to see him here in London, for the last I'd heard of him he'd settled down to live permanently in East Berlin.

'You're looking well, Rolf. What are you doing in London?' He was a big fellow and wore one of those heavy brown leather overcoats with plenty of straps and buttons. Its tight fit made him look as if he was about to explode out of it. This impression of impending detonation was heightened by the rosiness of his cheeks and nose.

'Bernd! Hello! I'm visiting my relatives. I have a cousin who lives in Luton.'

'Where are you living nowadays?' I asked.

He bent his head and touched his green loden hat as if to ease the constriction of its band, but it would be possible to read into this physical gesture a hint of apology. 'I'm still in the East. When you get to my age, Bernd, you're looking for peace and quiet. And what's more it's cheap.'