Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [42]
"Is of no importance," he said. "Only my destination."
"And what would that be?"
"Babylon!"
There was a moment of stillness and then she moved back slightly. "I think you'd better come in, young man."
The hall was oak panelled and very pleasant with hyacinths growing in a bowl on a polished table that stood before a long gilt mirror. She closed the door, releasing her hold on the Dobermann and the dog moved to Chavasse's side.
"This way," she said and walked to a door at the other end of the hall.
The room was obviously a study with books lining the walls, but a cheerful fire burned in an Adam grate and through the diamond paned window, he glimpsed trees through the rain and a river beyond.
The woman sat on the other side of a small round table and indicated the vacant chair opposite. Chavasse took it and the Dobermann subsided on the floor, its eyes fixed on his unwinkingly.
"Who are you, young man?" Rosa Hartman said.
"Does that matter?"
She shrugged. "Perhaps not. Give me your hand."
Chavasse was momentarily bewildered. "Might I ask why?"
"For me, it is always necessary. I am clairvoyant, surely you were aware of that?"
He took her hand, holding it lightly. It was cool and flaccid, making him remember for no accountable reason, his Breton grandmother, clean linen sheets, rosemary and lavender and then she tightened her grip and he was aware of a sudden tingle as from a minor electric shock. The strange thing was that suddenly, her eyes widened and she reached out and ran the fingers of her free hand lightly over his face.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head, still frowning. "I expected something a little different, that's all." She held his hand a moment longer and then released it. "Who sent you here?"
"Does that matter?"
"No, you have the password, but I was not expecting you."
"Then you can't help?"
She spread her hands in a vaguely continental gesture. "No arrangements have been made to take you to the next stage. There is no transport ready."
"I have transport."
"I see--you are alone?"
He hesitated. "Yes."
The strange creamy eyes seemed to gaze through him and beyond so that he knew instantly that she was aware that he had lied.
"You can help me then?"
"Yes--yes, I think so. At least I can show you where to go. Whether that will give you what you are looking for is something else again."
It was as if in some strange way she was trying to warn him and he smiled. "I'll take my chances."
"Then go to the desk behind you and open the top right hand drawer beneath the pigeon holes. You will find several copies of the same visiting card. Take one. I should add that I do not know what is on the card nor do I wish to know."
Chavasse got up and the dog stirred uneasily. He ignored it, walked to the desk and opened the drawer she had indicated. The visiting card was edged in black and carried the legend: Long Barrow Crematorium and House of Rest--Hugo Pentecost--Director in neat Gothic script. The phone number was Phenge 239.
"Now please go, young man," Rosa Hartman said.
Chavasse paused, frowning, the card between his fingers. There was something wrong here--something very wrong and then the dog stood up and growled softly. Chavasse took a cautious step backwards. If there was one dog on earth capable of killing a man, it was a Dobermann Pincher. Once launched on target, only a machine gun would stop it.
"You can let yourself out," she said. "Karl will see you to the door."
The Dobermann moved forward at once as if it understood every word she said and Chavasse took the hint. "I'd like to thank you, Madam Hartman. You've been of very real assistance to me."
"That remains to be seen, young man," she said calmly. "Now go."
There was a public telephone box at the end of the lane and he went inside and dialled Bureau headquarters in London quickly. He was through within a matter of seconds and asked for Mallory. A moment later, Janet Frazer's voice sounded on the line.
"I'm afraid Mr. Mallory isn't available. This is his secretary speaking.