Heather regarded the notes ruefully. "A man like that would be found out very quickly in the KGB."
"And given a quick discharge," I agreed.
"Blimey!" Heather breathed, in one of her rare lapses into street slang. "It's a ruddy guessing game, it is!"
"With time running out on us," I added "In a few days, there will be another assassination."
"What do we do now?" She crossed her long legs, showing a flash of lace under the yellow mini dress she was wearing. She looked like a schoolgirl, wondering if she had passed an exam. But she had not behaved like a schoolgirl out there at the cottage at Land's End.
"We go on to Lower Slaughter and try to relocate Novosty while there is still time. Maybe all that phone number is a lead to somebody's girlfriend. But it could be Novosty's real headquarters. I just hope it's not a dead end."
In the morning we drove to Lower Slaughter along narrow roads, passing thatched-roofed, black and white cottages and signs directing the traveler to such places as Chipping Campden and Bourton-on-the-Water. Lower Slaughter itself was a serene old tree-shaded village of brown stone cottages with a stream running through it. We parked the car on a side street and walked to the address Brutus's research department had traced through the telephone number we'd given them. It was a small house on the edge of town and it appeared to be deserted. There was no blue sedan around and the door was locked.
We moved around to the back and I looked in through a small leaded-glass window. I saw no one. I took an adjustable key from my pocket, one of the many devices provided by Hawk's Special Effects and Editing boys, and manipulated the lock with it. In a moment, a tumbler clicked and the door opened. I pulled Wilhelmina out and stepped cautiously inside. I moved slowly through a rustic kitchen into a living room, then into a bedroom. When I returned to the living room, Heather was checking the house out for "bugs." There were none.
I had just about decided that there was little point in hanging around when I found the overnight case stashed in a small closet. It had all the necessary male toilet articles in it, and they had been recently used. I looked around some more and spotted a crumpled but fresh cigarette butt in a wastebasket. The cigarette was one of the three British brands preferred by Russians and other East Europeans.
"Novosty beat us here," I told Heather. "And he'll be back."
"Yes," she said, "and he's already had company." She showed me two liqueur glasses she had found in a kitchen cupboard, recently used and left unwashed.
I smiled, leaned down and brushed her cheek with my lips. "Very good," I said She looked at me as if she wanted more, then quickly looked around. I had a difficult time remembering what I was there for.
"There is a man named Koval," Heather said, her eyes on the glasses she was holding. "He's a Russian agent who has been seen in this area and who has a liking for this type of liqueur. Stanislas Koval."
"Apparently he's Novosty's new subordinate," I said "They may be out recruiting more agents right now."
"Koval would be able to call on a number of men he has already cleared," Heather said.
"That's right. But we have a small advantage now. We're here and they don't know it."
Heather was wearing a corduroy skirt and one of those braless jersey shirts — I could see the contours of her nipples through the clinging material. It was no different from what all the other girls were wearing in the new days of female emancipation, but on Heather — and under the circumstances — it was distracting and frustrating. I think she knew it bothered me and was rather enjoying it. I tore my eyes away from those nipples and went to the kitchen to relock the back door. Then I replaced the overnight case and cigarette butt while Heather put the dirty glasses back into the cupboard where she had found them.
"Now," I said, "we'll wait." Deliberately I let my gaze travel over the jersey blouse and down to where the short corduory shirt stopped at mid-thigh. "Do you have any suggestions as to where?"
She gave me just a hint of a smile. "The bedroom?"
I returned her smile. "Of course," I said.
We moved into the bedroom and closed the door. Heather went to the one window and looked outside. "Very quiet out there," she said, turning back to me and tossing her purse on the bed. "We just may have ourselves a long wait."
"We just might, and I don't propose to waste it."
I moved close to her, circled her waist with my hands and started to draw her to me. She arched her back so that the soft curves of her pressed against me.
"I've been looking forward to this," I said, placing a kiss on her neck just under the blond hair.
"I've been wanting you ever since you walked into Brutus's office," she whispered back.
She helped me off with my jacket and Wilhelmina and then my shirt. I was undoing the catch that held her skirt up. In a moment it dropped to the floor. She stood there in sheer lace panties, all willowy curves and softness, her skin milky white and smooth as velvet.
"We can't use the bed," I said, watching her slide the panties over her hips. I removed the rest of my clothes and drew her down beside me on the bedroom rug.
I pressed her back onto the floor and kissed her. She responded eagerly, moving her hips against me in gentle undulating movements. I caressed her as I kissed her and felt her thighs part at my touch. Obviously, she was in no mood to waste time either. Gently, I covered her body with mine.
I entered her in one smooth, flowing motion. Her hands were doing magical things on my back, moving lower and lower, caressing, fondling, exciting me more and more. I started to move quicker, and I could feel Heather respond. Her legs parted wider as if she wanted me as deeply inside her as I could possibly go. Her breath came in rasping sobs. I thrust farther into her and she moaned as we climaxed together, perfectly.
Afterwards, we dressed slowly. When Heather had pulled on the jersey again, I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"We're going to have to make a custom of this lend-lease business," I said.
"I'll see what Brutus can arrange." She smiled.
We hadn't been dressed for long when I heard a car stopping. Heather was in the kitchen. I moved quickly to the bedroom window, pulling my jacket on. A black sedan had pulled up in front of the house. There were three men in it. One of them was Novosty.
I rushed to the bedroom door as Novosty and his pals got out of the car and moved toward the house. "Heather!" I whispered harshly. "They're here!"
A key scraped in the lock. Heather was nowhere in sight. I ducked back into the bedroom as the front door opened.
Five
"It is possible I can get someone else besides Marsh here," one of the men was saying as the three entered. I glimpsed a heavyset, curly-haired character carrying a bag of groceries. He moved through the front room to the kitchen and I figured him for Koval. "But you understand that this is very short notice."
I held my breath as Koval entered the kitchen. Heather was in there somewhere. Maybe she had managed to slip into the pantry. I could hear the curly-haired man moving about the kitchen.
"You can tell that to the Kremlin, Comrade." It was Novosty, and it was said with heavy sarcasm. I saw him as he sat down in a chair near the doorway. I eased the door shut, leaving just a half-inch slit. Heather's purse, I noticed out of the corner of my eyes, wasn't on the bed anymore. Had she taken it with her…? And then I saw it in the far corner by the bed where it must have fallen somehow. Her Sterling automatic would be in it.
I set my jaw in frustration. Heather was unarmed and we were separated. It had been rotten timing.
A tall angular Briton with a neat mustache moved to a couch near Novosty.
"I know a chap what might work out," he told the Russian. "Harry the Ape, they call him. A right sort he is for a bashing fracas. He's keen on a fight of any kind."