Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [30]
Chenkov’s car pulled up outside the Grand Palace Hotel a few minutes before nine the following morning. Karl jumped out to open the back door for the minister.
Chenkov walked quickly up the steps and into the hotel, expecting to find Dick waiting for him in the lobby. He looked up and down the crowded corridor, but there was no sign of his business partner. He marched across to the reception desk and asked if Mr. Barnsley had left a message for him.
“No, Minister,” replied the concierge. “Would you like me to call his room?” The minister nodded briskly They both waited for some time, before the concierge added, “No one is answering the phone, Minister, so perhaps Mr. Barnsley is on his way down.”
Chenkov nodded again, and began pacing up and down the lobby, continually glancing toward the elevator, before checking his watch. At ten past nine, the minister became even more anxious, as he had no desire to keep the President waiting. He returned to the reception desk.
“Try again,” he demanded.
The concierge immediately dialed Mr. Barnsley’s room number, but could only report that there was still no reply
“Send for the manager,” barked the minister. The concierge nodded, picked up the phone once again and dialed a single number.
A few moments later, a tall, elegantly dressed man in a dark suit was standing by Chenkov’s side.
“How may I assist you, Minister?” he asked.
“I need to go up to Mr. Barnsley’s room.”
“Of course, Minister, please follow me.”
When the three men arrived on the ninth floor, they quickly made their way to the Tolstoy Suite, where they found the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the door knob. The minister banged loudly on the door, but there was no response.
“Open the door,” he demanded. The concierge obeyed without hesitation.
The minister marched into the room, followed by the manager and the concierge. Chenkov came to an abrupt halt when he saw two motionless bodies lying in bed. The concierge didn’t need to be told to call for a doctor.
Sadly, the doctor had attended three such cases in the past month, but with a difference—they had all been locals. He studied his two patients for some time before he passed a judgment.
“The Siberian disease,” he confirmed, almost in a whisper. He paused and, looking up at the minister, added, “The lady undoubtedly died during the night, whereas the gentleman has passed away within the last hour.”
The minister made no comment.
“My initial conclusion,” continued the doctor, “is that she probably caught the disease from drinking too much of the local water—” he paused as he looked down at Dicks lifeless body—”while her husband must have contracted the virus from his wife, probably during the night. Not an uncommon occurrence among married couples,” he added. “Like so many of our countrymen, he clearly wasn’t aware that—” he hesitated before uttering the word in front of the minister—”Siherius is one of those rare diseases that is not only infectious but highly contagious.”
“But I called him last night,” protested the manager, “and asked if he’d like to see a doctor, and he said it wasn’t necessary, as his wife was on the mend and he was confident that she would be fully recovered by the morning.”
“How sad,” said the doctor, before adding, “if only he’d said yes. It would have been too late to revive his wife, but I still might have saved him.”
It Can’t Be
October Already
Patrick O’Flynn Stood in front of H. Samuel, the jeweler’s, holding a brick in his right hand. He was staring intently at the window. He smiled, raised his arm and hurled the brick at the glass pane. The window shattered like a spiders web, but remained firmly in place. An alarm was immediately set off, which in the still of a clear, cold October night could be heard half a mile away More important to Pat, the alarm was directly connected to the local police station.
Pat didn’t move as he continued to stare at his handiwork. He only had to