Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [5]
Hagen asked for the girl and there was an immediate drop in the temperature. The smile was replaced by a slight frown and the Russian told him coldly that she was in, but that it was a rule of the hotel that visitors must first be announced on the internal telephone before proceeding upstairs. He lifted the receiver and asked to be put through to her room. Anger and instinctive dislike stirred in Hagen. He waited until the man had Rose Graham on the phone and then reached across and twisted the receiver from his grasp. The Russian stalked away, an outraged expression on his face. Hagen turned his back and said: 'Hello, angel! Did you sleep well?'
Her voice sounded clear and sweet as a ship's bell across water. 'Captain Hagen! But I've only just awakened.'
He laughed pleasantly. 'As you've obviously missed breakfast, how about having lunch with me?' He fingered the few notes he had in his pocket, his final reserve, and she asked him to give her twenty minutes to shower and dress.
Hagen sat in one of the numerous easy chairs and leafed through a month-old American magazine. He was only half-interested, however, and most of the time he found himself thinking about the girl and waiting with anticipation for the moment when she would join him. It was a new feeling. A disturbing feeling. He hadn't been so interested in a woman for a long time. There was something ingenuous and refreshing about her. She had accepted his lunch invitation with a delight that she had not attempted to conceal and he wondered, suddenly, if he was getting involved in something serious. He dismissed the idea from his mind with a shrug. This would be their last meeting. Lunch for two to round the whole affair off. He beckoned to a passing waiter and ordered a gin-sling. As the drink was brought to him he noticed the Russian receptionist sneering at him from the desk and instinctively Hagen tossed the waiter a large tip. The Russian's sneer vanished rapidly. He must have imagined he was now on bad terms with a tipping customer. Hagen sipped his drink and sighed. A few more grand gestures and he really would be broke.
He glanced idly across at the lift doors as they opened and the girl stepped out. He stood up and walked towards her and she looked eagerly around and then she saw him and a warm smile appeared on her face. She came towards him and as she passed the reception desk a voice said: 'Oh, Miss Graham. Have you a moment?'
It was the Russian who had spoken. Hagen stood, hat in hand, a few feet away and feigned an interest in some travel brochures. He tried to pick up as much of the conversation as he could. The gist of it seemed to be that she hadn't paid her hotel bill for three weeks and the Russian wasn't being too polite about telling her. Hagen half-turned towards them, wondering whether he should intervene, when the girl opened her handbag and took out a cheque-book. She scribbled furiously for a moment, tore out the cheque, and flung it into the Russian's face.
She turned to Hagen and cursed the man fluently in Malay, Cantonese and a dialect that was new to him. 'They think because I am a Eurasian they can treat me any way they like, these people.'
Hagen smiled. 'The cheque act was the best part of the show,' he told her.
She smiled up at him, a tight little smile, and suddenly her face seemed to crumple and she began to cry. Before they could attract any attention Hagen gripped her arm and rushed her into the American Bar. Everyone had gone to lunch and for the moment the bar was cool, dark and empty. He left her in a booth to get the crying fit over and went and sat on one of the high stools at the bar and had a whisky-and-water.
He was puzzled. The girl was well educated and her clothes were expensive. She