The Longest Pleasure (38 page)

'Well, Mrs. Hamble,' Crane shifted back to his original foot, 'it's not very nice, in extreme cases.'

'I would like you to tell me.'

'Well, her toes, you see, are all swollen. Especially the big ones. How she managed to keep her shoes on beats us. As a matter of fact, I'd say she hasn't had them off in a while. Glued to her flesh, they were. Great high stiletto heels. And her fingers, well, the joints are all swollen, too, and her fingers don't move very easily. As I said, the whole thing isn't very nice. And she's not ancient, by any means.'

'What about her face?' Christine Hamble asked.

'Not much signs of the disease on her face, at a glance. Bit of a ruddy colouring, you know. You have to look pretty closely, under the make-up, and then you can see that the little veins are all swollen.'

'I can imagine,' Christine Hamble said. 'She must look dreadful.'

'Dreadful is the word. Bu
t you'll agree the whole thing
is very odd. I mean, for a tart she's a very odd person. And the only thing she had with her was a copy of last Thursday's
Times.
Now, I ask you, Mrs. Hamble, a tart who drinks nothing but port, has gout, and takes
The Times?
Talk about the changing face of British society.'

'I don't quite see how I am involved.' Christine Hamble's voice was again low.

'Ah, well, here's the other queer part. Smith had a handbag, of course. Nothing much in it. A compact, a few coins, and your address. Written on a slip of paper.'

'Ah,' Christine Hamble said, 'I understand.'

'I'm glad you do, Mrs. Hamble. Because I don't. But I thought, well, once maybe, you might have come across this woman, might be able to give us some information as
to her background, someone we co
uld contact, such as a next of kin, you know?'

‘I
won't be able to help you with her next of kin, Sergeant,' Christine Hamble said. 'But you are quite correct. You have managed to uncover one of the more embarrassing episodes of my life. I'm afraid Miss Smith was once a tenant of mine.'

'A tenant?'

'My husband has property in town, including a house in Mayfair, divided into flats. Miss Smith was a tenant there. Presumably she was at that time a little more successful in her profession. But, of course, I had no idea what her profession was. My husband leaves the management of the houses to me, you see, and I prefer to do it myself, rather than through an agent' 'Of course,' the sergeant agreed.

'Well, this young woman wanted a flat She had no references, but she was able to pay the deposit, and she seemed a quiet, well-behaved person.'

‘
But you found out different?'

'She never gave us any trouble. But, of course, the moment we discovered her profession, well, she had to go.
I
saw her personally and explained the situation to her. She took it very well.'

'And she kept your address. I wonder if that was because she resented being turned out or because she wanted to remember that you had been nice about it and kept you in mind as a possible touch one day.'

'I really have no idea.' Christine Hamble got up, closed the door on to the balcony. She turned back to face the room. 'What will happen to her, Sergeant?'

'Well, she'll be kept in hospital until she's over this particular attack. Then I'm afraid she'll be discharged, and
I
imagine it'll be back on the street. Of course, she won't do so well, any more. That's the trouble with prostitution. It's a one-way road, all down. And then she'll have another attack of gout, and it'll be back in hospital. And then it'll be back on the street again. And maybe from time to time we'll pull her in and she'll spend a couple of nights in gaol. At least there she'll get a square meal.'

Christine Hamble hugged herself. Presumably there was a draught coming through the door. 'It is dreadful. Would it be possible for me to help her in some way?'

'Which way did you have in mind, Mrs. Hamble?'

Christine Hamble sat at her desk, wrote a cheque. 'I've made it payable to cash. If you would cash it for me, Sergeant, and give her the money, I'd be very grateful.
I
would not like her to know it came from me.'

Sergeant Crane took the cheque, frowned. 'A hundred pounds? That's a great deal of money, Mrs. Hamble.'

You said she was destitute.'

'She is. But I don't know that giving her a lot of money is going to help her. People like Smith . . . well, she'll only blow it on booze.' The sergeant allowed himself a smile."

'On port,
I
imagine. And then she'll be back in hospital quicker than she figured.'

'Nevertheless, I would like you to give it to her. I suppose
I
am being foolish, but I feel sorry for the woman. There is no law against my giving her money ?'

'None at all. But I wouldn't like you to think that I came here looking for a handout on her behalf.'

'Of course you didn't, Sergeant. I am glad you came. Give Smith the money. But remember, she must not know where it came from.'

'Of course, Mrs. Hamble. And I must say this really is a most splendid gesture. Well, I won't take up any more of your time.'

'Yes,' Christine Hamble said. 'Thank you for calling, Mr. Crane.' She turned back to the window. In March the river took on life. Presumably it was just as lively in January or February. The life was absent from the eyes of those who looked at it. In March the river was able to communicate. She really had not been well these past few weeks. Jonathan had been quite upset. And how absurd that she should be reduced to a schoolgirl sickness for the sake of a worn-out tart. But not any more.

Kirsten Moeller picked up the house telephone on her desk. 'Maisie? Has the sergeant gone? Oh, good. Well, find Barnes for me, will you, please? Tell him to come up.'

iv

Tigran Dus wore a topcoat and a slouch hat. A scarf was wrapped around his throat, half obscuring his mouth and chin, leaving his nose isolated in the cold March breeze. Helena Isbinska wore boots and a woollen skirt beneath a new coat, and a small fur hat. They stood on the other side of the Ray Gut, looking into the mist.

Galitsin advanced to the outer edge of the shallow water. 'Good afternoon to you, Comrade Colonel.'

Tigran Dus frowned. 'Alexander Petrovich? It cannot be.'

'A. P. Galitsin,' Galitsin said. 'I am dressed as an English revolutionary rather than a Russian soldier, Comrade Colonel. That is the only difference.'

'I
am glad to see you again, Alexander Petrovich, no matter how you are dressed. Are we to come farther than this?'

"Helena first,' Galitsin said. 'I would like to speak with her alone. Do not be afraid of the water, Helena. It is very shallow.'

Helena glanced at Tigran Dus, and then stepped into the stream. She shivered as the water rose over the tops of her boots. She held her skirt in both hands, waded across, stood in front of Galitsin. Her face was pale, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze.

Galitsin walked away from the creek. 'Tell me,' he said.

She shrugged. 'They arrested me. Immediately after you disappeared. I spent a month in prison. It was not bad, Alexander. Not bad at all. I knew it was not going to be bad. I met a great number of very interesting people.'

'And afterwards?'

'Afterwards?' Her shoulders rose and fell again. 'Tigran Dus came for me, and told me we were coming to England. To make contact with you. I had to put that advertisement in the newspaper, Alexander. He threatened little Ewfim and little Alexander. And Ewfim as well.'

'I understand that you did what you had to do, Helena. But what has he done to you?'

'Nothing,' Helena Isbinska said in a low voice.

'I wish to know, Helena. I wish to know for how much I have been responsible.'

'Nothing,' Helena Isbinska said again. 'Nothing!' Her voice rose an octave. 'Don't you understand, Alexander? Nothing. He knows what we said to each other in the hospital,
h
e was listening, recording every word. He knows why I encouraged you to defect. Sometimes I think he knows everything. Knows everything we think, everything we begin to think and then reject as unthinkable. Knowledge is all he wishes, his only love.'

'But he has had you by his side for how long now?'

'A week. Oh, yes, Alexander. For the past week we have slept in the same room.'

'And he has done nothing to you?'

'He has not touched me. He has not wanted to touch me. But he
knows
about me. Can you understand that, Alexander? He sits, and watches me, fifteen, sixteen hours a day. Whatever I am doing, Tigran Dus is watching. To h
im it is the most natural thing
in the world. He talks, and he offers me drinks, and he lights my cigarettes, and he watches. So he knows. What I look like when I am asleep, when I am awake. How I take my bath, how I brush my hair, how I dress myself, how I undress myself. My good habits and my bad. With those eyes of his he has sucked me dry. And that, Alexander, is all he wants from me. Knowledge of another human being. Can you understand a man wanting only that?'

'And now you hate him,' Galitsin said.

Helena Isbinska considered for several seconds. 'Yes,' she said at last. .'I hate him. Do you know, I never hated anyone before? Not even the commandant?'

'And now you must go home,' Galitsin said, 'and try to forget Tigran Dus.'

She frowned. 'Go home, Alexander?'

'Of course. Your part in this is over.' Galitsin took her arm, escorted her back to the water, where Tigran Dus waited, his hands deep in his coat pockets, watching them. 'I have answered your advertisement, Comrade Colonel. I have come back to you. Helena has played her part.'

'I agree with you, Alexander Petrovich. Helena is booked on a plane for Leningrad this evening. She will be reunited with her family by tomorrow morning.'

You give me your word on this, Comrade Colonel?'

'My word, Alexander Petrovich.'

'Then I will say goodbye, Helena,' Galitsin said. You will give my regards to Ewfim, my love to the boys. And I am sorry that I have brought so much trouble on you.'

She hesitated, nodded, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Then she waded back across the creek.

'Are you not coming too, Alexander Petrovich?' Tigran Dus asked.

'I should like to talk with you, Comrade Colonel. Alone. After you have sent Helena home.'

Tigran Dus thought for a moment, gazing at Galitsin. Then he shrugged. 'As you wish, Alexander Petrovich. But we will talk on my terms now.' He rested his hand on Helena's shoulder. 'Go back to the house, Helena Petrovna. Your part in this affair is finished. I promised you that, and I always keep my word. They will drive you out to the airport whenever you are ready.'

'Thank you, Comrade Colonel. When will
I
see you again,?'

Tigran Dus smiled. 'I also shall be back in the Soviet Union tomorrow. And Alexander will be with me, I hope. We will have dinner at the Hotel Berlin, eh? Now, off you go.'

They watched Helena Isbinska walk across the sand. The mist closed about her, and within a few minutes she had disappeared.

'You are fortunate, Alexander Petrovich, in having such
a
woman as a sister. But now that you have come back to us, I can say that she is fortunate in having such
a
man as a brother.'

'I am flattered by your opinion, Comrade Colonel. Would you care to cross the stream?'

Tigran Dus smiled. 'Willingly, Alexander Petrovich. But
I
hope you will always remember that I could not have risen to my present rank in this profession of ours was I not an expert in anticipating every possible eventuality. So far today you have done nothing to convince me that
I
should trust you. Wishing to meet me alone, after your remarkable actions of the past few months, was reasonable. Wishing to ascertain that your sister was in good health was also reasonable. But now you are being unreasonable. However, I am a curious man. We have slipped back thirteen years in time, Alexander Petrovich, and I am waiting for you to convince me that I should not shoot you. To convince me, indeed, that I did not make a mistake thirteen years ago in not shooting you then. Now, in anticipation of the possibility that you may
not
be able to convince me, I have brought along an automatic pistol. And, of course, out here on this empty beach, a mile from the shore, and shrouded as we are in this confounded mist, nobody will ever hear a shot, or even several shots. But I should imagine that one will be sufficient. I am a very good shot.'