Over eighteen hours." "Eighteen?..." It was no time for explanations. "Do you have a car?" "I couldn't take the chance. A lone man with a woman who could not stand up under her own power; the trail would have been obvious. The pilot drove us up from Ashford." "Can you trust himT' "No, but he stopped for petrol ten minutes outside of London and went inside to relieve himself. I added a quart of oil to his fuel tank; it should be taking effect on the road back to Ashford." "Find a taxi." Scofield's look conveyed the compliment he would not say.
"We have much to discuss," added Taleniekov, moving away from the wall.
"Then hurry," said Bray.
Antonia's breathing was steady, the muscles of her face relaxed in sleep.
When she awoke she would be nauseated, but it would pass with the day.
Scofield pulled the covers over her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her on her pale white lips, and got up from the bed.
He walked out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Should Toni stir he wanted to hear her; hysterics were a byproduct of scopolamine. They had to be controlled; it was why Taleniekov could not risk leaving her alone, even for the few minutes it would have taken to lease a car.
"What happened?" he asked the Russian, who sat in a chair, a glass of whisky in his hand.
"This moming-yesterday morning," said Taleniekov, correcting himself, his white-haired head angled back against the rim of the chair, his eyes closed; the man was clearly exhausted. "They say you're dead, did you know that?" "Yes. What's that got to do with it?" "It's how I got her back." The Russian opened his eyes and looked at Bray. "There's very little about Beowulf Agate I don't know." "And?" "I said I was you. There were several basic questions to answer; they were not difficult. I offered myself in exchange for her. They agreed." "Start from the beginning." I wish I could, I wish I knew what it was. The Matarese, or someone within the Matarese, wants you alive. It's why certain people were told that you are not. They don't look for the American, only the Russian. I wish I understood." Taleniekov drank.
"What happened?" "They found her. Don't ask me how, I don't know. Perhaps Helsinki, perhaps you were picked up out of Rome, perhaps anything or anyone, I don't know." "But they found her," said Scofield, sitting down. "Then what?" "Early yesterday morning, four or five hours before you called, she went down to a bakery; it was only a few doors away. An hour later she had not returned. I knew then I had two choices. I could go out after her-but where to start, where to look? Or I could wait for someone to come to the flat. You see, they had no choice, I knew that. The telephone rang a number of times but I did not answer, knowing that each time I didn't, it brought someone closer." "You answered my call," interrupted Bray.
"That was later. By then we were negotiating." "Then?" "Finally two men came. It was one of the more testing moments of my life not to kill them both, especially one. He had that small, ugly little mark on his chest. When I ripped his clothes off and saw it, I nearly went mad." "Why?" "They killed in Leningrad. In Essen. Later you'll understand. It's part of what we must discuss." "Go on." Scofield poured himself a drink.
"I'll tell it briefly, fill in the spaces yourself; you've been there.
I kept the soldier and his hired gun bound and unconscious for over an hour. The phone rang and this time I answered, using the most pronounced American accent I could manage. You'd have thought the sky over Paris had fallen, so hysterical was the caller. 'An imposter in London!' he squeaked. Something about 'a gross error having been made by the embassy, the information they received completely erroneous.' " "I think you skipped something," interrupted Bray again. "I assume that was when you said you were me." "Let's say I answered in the affirmative when the hysterical question was posed. It was a temptation I could not resist, since I had heard less than forty-eight hours previously that you had been killed." The Russian paused, then added, "Two weeks ago in Washington." Scofield walked back to the chair, frowning. "But the man on the phone knew I was alive, just as those here in London knew