stayed in the job, this thrill of unknown encounters and experiences ahead – this and the fact that he couldn’t think what else he might do with his life. Hogg stood up, tugged fiercely at his jacket and began to pace steadily up and down the length of his vivid carpet. He smoked his cigarette rapidly, with a small flourish, a little shooting of the cuff of the smoking arm as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Hogg, rumour had it, had been in the services in his youth; certainly, he always praised military types and virtues, and Lorimer wondered now if it might have been the navy – he smoked very strong navy cut cigarettes and there was something of the captain on the poop deck about the way he paced his ground.
‘Hotel fire,’ he said. ‘Severe damage. Twenty-seven million.’
‘Jesus.’
‘And I don’t think we should pay a penny. Not a red cent. Smells bad to me, Lorimer, nasty, nasty pong coming off of this one. Nip down and see what you think. It’s all in the dossier.’ He skipped nimbly over to the door, opened it and closed it again.
‘Did you, ah, meet our Mr Helvoir-Jayne?’ Hogg’s stab at ingenuousness was laughable, as he studied the smouldering end of his cigarette intently.
‘I did. Just a few words. Seems a very amiable –’
‘I’m convinced his arrival here as co-director and this hotel fire are connected.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nor do I, Lorimer, nor do I. The mist clears in the paddy field but we still do not see the leopard. But just you bear my observation in mind.’ Hogg leered at him, ‘Softly, softly catchee monkey.’
‘Who’s the monkey? Not Mr Helvoir-Jayne?’
‘My lips are sealed, Lorimer.’ He edged closer. ‘How can you drink English tea with lemon? Disgusting. I thought there was an alien smell in this room. You want to put milk in your tea, Lorimer, else people will think you’re a nancy boy.’
‘People have only been milking their tea for a hundred years.’
‘Raw bollocks, Lorimer. Heard anything on the Dupree front?’
‘Nothing.’ Reminded, Lorimer asked him about the Fortress Sure advertisement. Hogg had never heard of it, or seen it, but he said he did remember some recent campaign that had not pleased the board (Hogg had some connection with the board of Fortress Sure, Lorimer recalled) and it had either been rejected or consigned to less prominent slots while a staider or less flashy message was developed. It had cost an arm and a leg, Hogg said, and somebody had been royally shafted. Perhaps that was the one? Lorimer considered that indeed it might have been and he thought pleasantly about the girl again, thought about the luck of him rising that early, the pleasing coincidence.
Hogg settled a large haunch on the corner of his desk. ‘Are you an aficionado of television commercials, Lorimer?’
‘What? Ah, no.’
‘We make the world’s best television commercials in this country.’
‘Do we?’
‘At least we can be proud of something,’ Hogg said with some bitterness, swinging his leg. Lorimer saw that Hogg was wearing slim loafers, very un-naval, no more than slippers, really, which made his feet look small and delicate for such a burly, hefty man. Hogg noticed the direction of his gaze.
‘What the hell are you looking at?’
‘Nothing, Mr Hogg.’
‘You got anything against my shoes?’
‘Not at all.’
‘You shouldn’t stare at people’s feet like that, it’s damned insolent. The height of rudeness.’
‘Sorry, Mr Hogg.’
‘You still got your sleep problems?’
‘Yes, afraid so. I’m going to a sort of clinic, sleep disorder thing, see if I can get it analysed.’
Hogg walked him companionably to the door. ‘Take care of yourself, Lorimer.’ He smiled one of his rare smiles at him – it was as if he were trying out a recently learned facial gesture. ‘You’re an important, nay, a key member of GGH. We want you in tip-top condition. Tip-top, man, tip-top.’
257. Hogg rarely compliments you, and you know that when he does you accept it gracelessly suspiciously, as if you are being set up in some way, or as if a trap has started to spring
The Book of Transfiguration
Lorimer saw from his map that the hotel was just off the Embankment, just back from the river between Temple Lane and Arundel Street with, perhaps, an angled view of half the National Theatre on the far bank. According to the file it was a development of a property company called Gale-Harlequin PLC and was to be known, improbably, as the Fedora Palace. The building had been three-quarters completed