But, whether they were employed or self-employed, the girls went about their trade in grotesquely amateurish style. However Randall knew from experience that most espionage was amateurish on the grand scale.
At the bar and on the floor, half a dozen girls cuddled, squeezed, kissed and cajoled as if they had taken a correspondence course on their profession. They had also made the mistake of drinking as much as their quarry and they smelled of the sweat that was staining their dresses.
A tourist from the same party as the widow said: ‘Do you fancy any of those broads, Mac?’
‘Not tonight,’ Randall said. ‘And what’s more I don’t fancy having my nose busted by a Swedish ice hockey player.’
‘If you paid enough I guess it would be okay.’
‘What—with a Swedish ice hockey player?’
‘No, a girl. If you told her you’d pay a lot of dough you could arrange a rendezvous later.’
He was short and fat and damp.
‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Randall said. ‘Hold on to your money.’
‘You speak with some authority, friend. Do you do a lot of business in Moscow?’
‘Quite a bit,’ Randall said.
‘Then perhaps you can help me.’
The KGB man eased himself along the bar.
Randall said: ‘I will if I can. What part of the States are you from? And what brings you here at this time of the year?’
‘I’m from Chicago,’ said the fat man. ‘We came in the fall, Flora and me, because it was cheaper. We’d promised ourselves a really big vacation for years. We always reckoned on going to England, but some of those Limeys are so Goddam stuck-up. Then we saw this movie, Doctor Zhivago, and Flora said to me, “Why not Russia? Why don’t we go to Russia?” At first I thought it was a crazy idea. Then I thought, why not? After all we hear so much crap about the Iron Curtain. And, boy, would I have something to talk about back at the club. I mean it’s not everyone who goes to Russia, is it?’
‘No,’ Randall said. ‘It isn’t. How can I help you?’
His companion looked around furtively and the KGB man edged down the bar another foot. ‘I can see you’re a broad-minded man,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
The fat man sniggered. ‘Broad-minded about broads, I mean.’
‘You could say that,’ Randall said.
‘Then what’s the best way to go about laying a Russian doll?’
‘The usual way, I suppose.’
‘But where do I find ’em? And what’s the best approach?’
‘This place is as good as any,’ Randall said. ‘You’ve just picked a bad night.’
‘I came in last night and the joint was empty.’
‘It must have been an even worse night.’ Randall finished his whisky; it was 2 a.m. ‘What about Flora?’ he asked. ‘Does she have any firm views on the subject?’
‘Jesus, don’t talk about her,’ the fat man said as if she were on the point of returning to the bar. ‘She’s a great little wife. It’s just that I had a bet with a few of the boys back home that I would lay a Russian broad. I guess I don’t want to lose my dough.’ He shuddered. ‘But don’t talk about Flora in the same breath. It ain’t respectful.’
‘Can’t you just kid them along that you won the bet?’
The fat man looked reproachfully at Randall. ‘That wouldn’t be honourable,’ he said. And added slyly: ‘Have you had any experience with these Russki broads?’
‘No,’ Randall said. ‘It’s not advisable when you’re in business.’
‘No, I guess not.’ He pondered, then brightened. ‘But it must be okay for a tourist. And to tell you the truth I fancy them.’ He pointed at the girls hugging the unresisting Swedes. ‘Look at those asses. I’d sure like to get my hands round those.’
Randall said: ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Will you? Will you really?’
‘I’ll get one sent round to your room.’
‘Jesus, don’t do that,’ said the fat man. Then grinned shakily. ‘Don’t make jokes like that,’ he said. ‘I got a weak heart.’
‘Okay,’ Randall said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. Just one word of advice.’
‘I’m always willing to listen to advice.’
Make sure you don’t catch Russian pox. It’s worse than any other kind.’
Randall stood up and the envelope fell out of his pocket. The KGB man picked it up and handed it to him.
‘Spaseeba,’ said Randall, feeling his stomach contract.
The KGB man smiled pleasantly. ‘Pazhahlsta,’ he said.
‘Hey,’ said the tourist as Randall headed for the door. ‘What do you mean? How would I know if I caught it?’
Randall turned. ‘It has the same effect as frostbite,’ he said.
In the foyer downstairs Swedes argued with the cloakroom attendant. On the pavement outside Swedes argued with cab drivers and the girls they had picked up.
As Randall climbed into his Chevrolet a girl came over to him and said: ‘You a Swede?’
‘No,’ Randall said. ‘American.’
‘Okay,’ said the girl, ‘let’s go. I like Americans. Swedes … Poof.’
‘Sorry,’ Randall said. ‘Not tonight.’
‘I like you. Let’s go.’
All he needed, he thought, was a currency spiv buying dollars and the evening would be complete.
‘Go back to your Swede. They’re nice guys really.’
Stiff blonde hairs stuck out from under her fur hat and she smelled of whisky. Silent men stood watching in the snow.
‘You have twenty dollars?’
‘No,’ Randall said.
‘Fifteen?’
‘No.’
‘You give me ten dollars. Okay let’s go.’
‘Goodnight,’ Randall said. He let the clutch out gently so that she didn’t lose her footing. He sensed the disappointment of the watchful men. Police, ponces, blackmailers.
