Hagen bringing up the rear dragging the unconscious man by the collar. The clerk pretended to be extremely busy as they crossed the hall.
On the other side of the narrow street there was parked a large American limousine that somehow looked familiar. The one who was still able to walk opened the door and Hagen bundled the other inside. As he straightened up he suddenly felt a slight prick as something needle-sharp nudged into his back. ‘I underestimated you, Captain Hagen,’ Kossoff said. ‘A Judo expert. I must be more careful in the future. However, I win the trick, I think?’
‘By one point,’ Hagen said, bitterly.
The pressure was removed and he turned to find Kossoff replacing two feet of wicked-looking steel in the Malacca cane. Suddenly Hagen felt utterly weary and deflated. The little street was empty and quiet. Through the darkness he could see traffic passing at the far end but somehow it seemed unreal and very far away. Even the sounds were subdued and meaningless. Kossoff said: ‘You are surprised that I do not kill you? Allow me to explain. As I told you, I have not been to Moscow for ten years. The point is, Captain, that I do not intend to return to Russia at all if I can avoid it. I have what you would call a ‘plum’ job in China. I live very well indeed but my standard of living is threatened, Captain, and by you. The party is harsh with failures. If I do not get that gold I may very easily be recalled to explain my failure. However, I do not intend to fail.’ He adjusted his tie and the angle of his panama. ‘I give you two days in which to consider my proposition.’
Hagen decided that it would be pointless to tell him to go to hell. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Kossoff got behind the wheel and said: ‘My poor fellows. You were really extremely rough with them, Captain. Thank you for delivering them to the car. That’s what I call service.’
‘Go to hell,’ Hagen told him. ‘I only did it to keep the police out of this.’
‘In two days, my friend.’ The car slid away from the kerb and Hagen turned wearily and went back into the hotel.
He had a shower and changed and then came downstairs. He told the clerk to get someone to clean his room and that if anyone wanted him to say he had gone out for a drink. The clerk bobbed his head and Hagen went out of the front door. He stood outside for perhaps a full minute and then quickly went back into the hall. The clerk was speaking into the telephone. ‘He has just left for the evening. I think—’
Hagen lifted the flap and stepped behind the desk. As the man backed away from him he grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled out the automatic with his free hand. He slammed the barrel twice against the man’s face and the heavy metal opened a jagged groove down his right cheek. The man collapsed across the top of the desk, moaning bitterly, and Hagen said: ‘I don’t like snoopers. You’d better not be here when I get back.’ He turned and left the hotel.
He walked to Clara Boydell’s place, twisting and turning through back streets and stopping many times to see that he wasn’t followed. When he reached the house it was a blaze of lights and there were many cars parked outside—some with diplomatic plates. He let himself in by the front door. The gaming tables that Clara ran on the ground floor were doing a roaring trade, and he could see her standing in the lounge talking animatedly to a group of distinguished-looking gentlemen. He went upstairs and asked a passing maid to show him to Rose’s room.
The room was in darkness. A shaft of yellow light shone through the window from a lamp outside. The girl was lying under a mosquito net and he was unable to see her clearly, only to get a vague impression of rounded limbs and blue-black hair spread across the pillow. Faintly in the distance he heard a snatch of laughter and then the sad, sweet strains of a clarinet as the band started to play. Very quietly he tip-toed from the room.
He was tired when he reached his hotel. There was a smart-looking Chinese girl at the desk now. He asked her where the man was and she said that he’d left in a hurry. Her uncle, who was the proprietor, had been compelled to ask her to come at very short notice. It was really most inconvenient. Hagen agreed with her and went up to his room. Suddenly he was more tired than he had been in a long, long time. He flung himself down on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling and after a while it moved a little and then he was asleep.
He awakened suddenly and completely. Because he was not aware of the thing that had disturbed him, his hand slipped under the pillow and curled around the butt of the automatic. There was an urgent tapping on the door and the Chinese girl’s voice said: ‘Captain Hagen! Come quickly! There’s an urgent telephone call.’
‘Who is it?’ he said through the door.
‘No name. Lady say very urgent.’
He jerked open the door and rushed past her, taking the stairs three at a time. He stood at the desk and spoke into the receiver, ‘Hagen here.’
‘Mark, this is Clara. I’m sending Lee for you in a car. You’d better get here fast. They’ve kidnapped your girlfriend.’
Somehow her voice suddenly drifted away into the distance. For a moment he swayed as for the first time he realized that the girl was important to him, and then he recovered and said: ‘Thanks, Clara. I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.’
He dropped the receiver and turned and ran past the astonished girl up the stairs to his room.
He had barely finished dressing when he heard the car brake to a halt outside. He ran downstairs, wrenched open the door, and scrambled into the rear seat. Before he could get the door closed the car had roared away from the kerb. They turned a corner on two wheels, scattering pedestrians, and then Lee turned into a maze of quiet back streets, driving like a demon.
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