Ian Rankin Watchman (v4.0) (pdf)

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swallowed.
Whatever it was, he said, it s history now.
They seemed pleased with this, like schoolboys whose gofer
was not going to report a roasting at their hands.
I am enjoying this tea, said the director brightly. It s rare
to find a good cup of tea these days, even in London.
I quite agree, said Partridge, smiling at Miles.
The fracas in the lobby seemed to have ended. Someone had
come forward and claimed the case as his. Miles caught a glimpse
of a young woman as she walked past the reception desk. He
wondered where he had seen her before. Then he remembered.
Only two weeks ago, in the cocktail bar, with Latchkey grinning
toward him. Here she was, delivered into his hands in one of the
firm s safe hotels. Coincidence? Miles thought not. He was
beginning to believe in kismet.
* * *
63
Ian Rankin
When the occasional customer, all social conscience and guilt
reflex, asked Felicity why she did what she did, when she had
in their tired old phrasing so much going for her, she usually
just shrugged, and they would let it rest. Of late, however, she
had given the question some thought. The money was good,
of course, and often she would be involved in little more than
escort work. Her clients were businessmen, desperate for suc-
cess, and a pretty, intelligent companion for the evening was,
to them, a sign of that success. She tried not to think about the
other nights, the tough ones, when she took on the lechers and
the heavyweight drinkers. She cried after those engagements,
and bathed, soaking them out of her system. It was hard work,
too hard sometimes.
The hotel management never troubled her. If they became
suspicious, well, her appearance and her accent were usually
enough to see them off, and there were other ways, too, of
course. She did it for the money. She was saving up to open her
own boutique, or last month s notion a bookshop. She had
changed her mind so often. But she had a good bank manager,
who advised her on possible investments and never asked about
taxes and such. She was just waiting for the day when he, too,
would become a customer. There was a sordid glimmer to his
smile. But one day she would put all this behind her and become
a celebrity. Her shop, whatever it was, would be the place to be
seen. Her photograph would appear in the magazines, and she
might even be seen on TV . . . Seen by all her old clients, who
would recognize her. And then one of them would sell the story
of her past life to a newspaper, out of spite. Sheer spite . . .
Hello, miss.
And she had saved her money so well, and had fought off
the competition. (God, some of those girls were tough.) She
had not given in to the many pimps who had tried to threaten
her. She was not stupid. She would not have succeeded if she
were. Her mother had taught her all she had needed to know
about survival. All those dark, cold nights of fireside horror
stories about how life could suck you as dry as a beached bone.
All those lessons . . .
64
Watchman
Excuse me.
Yes? She looked up from her reverie into the smiling eyes
of a small, middle-aged man.
We ve met before, he said. At least I think we have. Yes,
I m sure of it. Though I m a bit early for our appointment.
Appointment?
Yes, we met two weeks ago. In the Doric. Just off the
Strand. You asked me if I had a light, and then we met again in
the cocktail bar. I said we could arrange to meet there again in
a year s time.
Felicity laughed.
I remember now, she said. You ran away from me. I have
to tell you that men don t often do that. I was a bit startled.
Well, that evening, I was a bit unsettled myself.
Won t you join me?
She was seated at a small table in the reception area. Miles
had watched her for a minute or two, Partridge and the old boy
having left for the office. As he sat down, Felicity thought to
herself, he s actually quite tall. Why did I think he was short?
You remember that night? he asked.
Oh yes. You seemed to be just about the only unattached
person in the place, apart from me. Birds of a feather, I thought,
but I was wrong, it seems.
That was why you approached me twice?
Yes. Her voice was steady, but Miles detected something.
It had been a while ago now, and she had allowed herself the
luxury of forgetting all the details. But something about that
evening had just come back to her, and she was trying to think
about it at the same time as she spoke to him. He decided to
attack.
Who put you up to it?
I beg your pardon? The blood began to color her already
flushed cheeks. She was pretty, there was no doubting that. Even
Partridge had given her more than cursory attention before
leaving.
I asked who put you up to it. The whole thing was a setup,
wasn t it? I can see it in your face, Miss . . . ?
65
Ian Rankin
Felicity, she whispered.
Look, Felicity, it was a long time ago, wasn t it? But you do
remember? It s hardly going to hurt you now to tell me who it
was, is it? Who put you up to it, Felicity?
I . . . She was just a little frightened now, and Miles did not
want to frighten her.
Do you know what it was all about? he said. I ll tell you, it
was a joke arranged by some friends of mine. I was waiting there
for them, you see, and I think they put you up to it, so that they
could have a laugh when they finally did come along and find us
together. Is that it, Felicity?
Well, he never said exactly . . . She stopped, but had al-
ready said too much. It would be easy now to prize the rest from
her, now that she had taken the first, irretrievable step.
Yes? he prompted.
But you told me when you left that you were on your way
home.
I was lying. The smile never left Miles s face. I was onto
you, you see. So I went off elsewhere.
Did you find your friends?
Yes, but neither of them would own up to the joke. That s
why it s been niggling me.
Felicity nodded her head. What the hell, it was nothing
to do with her. She was free to talk about it, wasn t she? This
was a free country. She made herself more comfortable in her
seat. Business, she thought to herself, that was what this had
become.
I don t usually give away that sort of information, you
know. It s bad for my reputation. I do have my reputation to
consider.
Miles was ready for this. He reached for his wallet and pro-
duced two ten-pound notes, hoping it would not seem derisory. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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