‘You might say he doesn’t give a fig for loyalty either.’
‘Julian’s loyalty is to ideals, believe it or not. The fact is that he could get on perfectly well with NASA, but NASA couldn’t cope with him. Last year he presented the White House with a plan for how a second lift could be financed by the Americans, and that would have meant that he was putting himself in a highly dependent position as a supplier of know-how. But rather than using the opportunity to involve him, Congress hesitated and expressed concern. America still hasn’t worked out that for Julian it’s just an investor.’
‘And because this investor seems to lack a certain potency at the moment, he’s extending the circle of his possible partners.’
‘Correct. He couldn’t care less whether you’re a Russian or a Martian.’
‘Even so. Why shouldn’t I invest in my country’s space travel?’
‘Because you have to ask yourself whether you want to entrust your money to a state which, while it might be your homeland, is hopelessly underperforming in technological terms.’
‘Russian space travel is just as privatised and efficient as the American version.’
‘But you haven’t got a Julian Orley. And there isn’t one on the horizon, either. Not in Russia, not in India, not in China. Not even the French and the Germans have one. Japan is running on the spot. If you invest your money in the attempt to invent something that other people invented ages ago, just for the sake of national pride, you’re not being loyal, you’re being sentimental.’ Evelyn looked at him. ‘And you aren’t inclined towards sentimentality. You’re sticking to the rules of the game in Russia, that’s all. And you feel no more connected to your country than Julian feels to anybody.’
‘You think you know so much about me.’
Evelyn shrugged. ‘I just know that Julian would never pay for anyone to take the most expensive trip in the world simply out of love for his fellow man.’
‘And you?’ Rogachev asked an athletically built man who had joined them in the course of the conversation. ‘What brings you here?’
‘An accident.’ The man came closer and held out his hand to Evelyn. ‘Carl Hanna.’
‘Evelyn Chambers. You’re referring to the attempt on Palstein’s life?’
‘He should have been flying instead of me. I know I shouldn’t be pleased in the circumstances—’
‘But you’ve been promoted and you’re pleased anyway. That’s completely understandable.’
‘Nice to meet you anyway. I watch Chambers whenever I can.’ His eyes turned to the sky. ‘Will you be making a programme up there?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll keep it private. Julian wants to shoot a commercial with me, in which I praise the beauties of the universe. To stimulate space tourism. Do you happen to know Oleg Alexeyevich Rogachev?’
‘Rogamittal.’ Hanna smiled. ‘Of course. I think we even share a passion.’
‘And that would be?’ Rogachev asked carefully.
‘Football.’
‘You like football?’
The Russian’s impenetrable, foxy face grew animated. Aha, Evelyn thought. First clue about Hanna. She looked with interest at the Canadian, whose whole body seemed to consist of muscle, although without the awkwardness that bodybuilders so often had. With his close-shaven hair and beard, his thick eyebrows and the little cleft in his chin, he could easily have played the lead in a war movie.
Rogachev was usually a little frosty with strangers, but the mention of football made him seem suddenly almost euphoric. Straight away they were discussing things that Evelyn didn’t understand, so she took her leave and moved on. At the bar she ran into Lynn Orley, who introduced her to the Nairs, the Tautous and Walo Ögi. She at once took a liking to the swaggering Swiss. Complacent, and with a parodic tendency to overdramatise things, he immediately proved to be open and attentive. In general, no one was talking about anything but the imminent trip. To her delight, Evelyn didn’t have to try to attract Heidrun Ögi’s attention, as she cheerfully waved her over to introduce her, with furtive delight, to the tormented-looking Finn O’Keefe. Over the next five minutes Evelyn didn’t manage to ask him a single question, and said she presumed it would stay that way.
‘For ever?’ O’Keefe asked slyly.
‘For the next fortnight,’ she confessed. ‘Then I’ll give it another go.’
Not staring at Heidrun was a far more hopeless task than escaping the gravitational pull of Miranda Winter’s breasts – undulating landscapes of promised delight, but nothing in the end to lose your head over. Miranda, by and large, was a simple design. Sex with her, Evelyn guessed, would be like licking out a honey-pot, sweet and enticing, a bit ordinary after a while, eventually boring and possibly making you feel a bit sick afterwards. Heidrun’s pigment-free, anorexic body, on the other hand, her white hair, snow-white all over, promised an intense erotic experience.
Evelyn sighed inwardly. She couldn’t afford any kind of adventure with this lot, particularly since everything about Heidrun shouted that she wasn’t interested in women.
At least not that way.
A little way off she spotted Chuck Donoghue’s barrel shape, with its complete lack of a neck. His chin jutted bossily forwards, his thinning, reddish hair blown into a sculpture on his head. He had just launched into a noisy diatribe directed at two women, one tall and bony, with strawberry-blonde hair, the other dark and delicate, looking as if she had emerged from a painting by Modigliani. Eva Borelius and Karla Kramp. At regular intervals Chuck’s lecture was counterpointed by Aileen Donoghue’s maternal falsetto. With her rosy cheeks and silver hair, you might have expected to see her flitting off at any moment to serve homemade apple pie, which according to rumours she did with great enthusiasm when she wasn’t helping Chuck run their hotel empire. To talk to Borelius, Evelyn would have had to put up with Chuck’s teasing, so instead she went in search of Lynn, and found her in conversation with a man who looked uncannily like her. The same ash-blond hair, sea-blue eyes, Orley DNA. Lynn was saying, ‘Don’t worry, Tim, I’ve never been better,’ as Evelyn walked in.
The man turned his head and looked at her reproachfully.
‘Excuse me. Didn’t mean to interrupt.’ She made as if to go.
‘Not at all.’ Lynn held her back by the arm. ‘Do you know my brother?’
‘Great to meet you. We hadn’t had the pleasure.’
‘I’m not part of the company,’ Tim said stiffly.
Evelyn remembered that Julian’s son had turned his back on the firm years before. The siblings were close, but there were problems between Tim and his father that had started when Tim’s mother had died, in a state of total insanity, it was rumoured. Lynn had never revealed any more than that, except that Amber, Tim’s wife, didn’t share her husband’s dislike of Julian.
‘You wouldn’t happen to know where Rebecca is?’ said Evelyn.
‘Rebecca?’ Lynn frowned. ‘She should be down at any moment. I just dropped her off at her suite.’
In point of fact Evelyn couldn’t have cared less where Rebecca Hsu had got to. She just had a distinct feeling of being about as welcome as a case of shingles, and tried to find a reason to slope quietly off again.
‘And otherwise? Do you like it?’
‘Brilliant! – I heard that Julian’s not getting here until the day after tomorrow?’
‘He’s stuck in Houston. Our American partners are causing a few problems.’
‘I know. Word gets around.’
‘But he’ll be there for the show.’ Lynn grinned. ‘You know him. He loves making the big entrance.’