The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [96]
‘So you two were dancing backthere?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it was very agreeable.’ D’Erlanger was grinning inanely. ‘They have a separate area where you can be more private. VIP, I thinkthey call it. Very Important Persons.’
He laughed uproariously at his own joke, but Ben noticed the exhaustion in his face, tired, jaundiced skin and bruises beneath the eyes. A nocturnal creature. Stress-driven. Greedy.
‘So this is better than Moscow, no?’ he was saying, this time to Tamarov. ‘More relaxed, I think.’
‘What do you mean?’ Tamarov asked.
D’Erlanger turned backto Ben. His attention was everywhere.
‘We’ve just been in Moscow,’ he said. ‘Have you ever been, Benjamin?’
Ben said that he hadn’t.
‘Well, I will tell you…’ he rubbed his nose, wiping sweat off his cheek’… everywhere you go there are security persons, men maybe only twenty or twenty-five years old carrying guns and leather jackets, like they thinkthey are Bruce Willis or something. And not just in nightclubs, but in supermarkets, in cinemas, in shops. What are they called, Vladimir?’
‘Okhrana,’ Tamarov told him.
‘That’s right. Okhrana. The Muscovites are obses-sed with staying alive, with security. We go to one restaurant with Thomas and Juris - it’s called the Prado or Prago or something…’
‘Praga,’ Tamarov said.
‘Thankyou, yes, Praga, and this is a typical Stalin wedding cake near the Kremlin where you have maybe eight or nine different restaurants, themed and so on, and we cannot move because of all these clowns, these clowns with their Range Rovers and their bullet-proof vests and Walther PPKs…’
Again d’Erlanger laughed at his own joke. Ayesha smiled backadoringly, his oldest friend in the world. Then, when she thought that no one would notice, she stared intently backat Ben, a second moment of flirtation which tookhim by surprise. There was a promise of paradise in her eyes.
‘So Vladimir he books a table for us and we have to pass through metal detectors, body searchings, as if we are terrorists or something.’ Ben could hardly concentrate. ‘Can you imagine this at my restaurant, Benjamin? You come to eat at my place in Covent Garden and I have one of my waitresses take you into a backroom and maybe do a strip search before you can order a soup…’
Again d’Erlanger laughed hugely. Ayesha was still trying her best to lookamused but Tamarov had a face like stone. Movement at the opposite end of the table ended the conversation. Mark had stood up and was excusing himself from the Thai girl. Seeing this, Ben said, ‘I’m just going to the bathroom.’ Nobody paid him much attention. ‘You going too, Mark?’
‘Yeah, for a piss,’ his brother replied, passing behind Macklin’s chair. Ben nodded conspicuously at Tamarov as he squeezed himself out and walked with Mark to the gents.
Inside it was quiet, two doors separating them from the rest of the club. Ben checked that they were alone as Mark washed his hands at the sink.
‘I have to talkto you,’ he said. There was a note of urgency in his voice. ‘Something’s come up.’
‘Not now, brother,’ Mark whispered. ‘This is hard enough as it is.’
The door swung open and a stooped, elderly man walked into the bathroom. Mark moved away from the sinkand locked himself in one of two cubicles. Ben pretended to lookat himself in the mirror and adjusted his tie. The man left without washing his hands.
‘D’Erlanger has been to Moscow with Macklin and Tamarov. He must be involved in something out there…’
‘Ben…’
‘What were you talking to Duchev about?’ Mark came out of the booth. He was frowning.
‘What?’
‘You guys were talking about something while I was with Vladimir.’
‘He’s retiring. He’s bought some property in Spain. He doesn’t like the weather in Latvia and wants to build his own house south of Granada. Why?’
Instantly, Ben said, ‘Well, you could use that.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You could rob him of his dream.’ In the tight confines ofthe bathroom Ben was rushing on sheer adrenalin,