It was a brilliant scene, reminiscent of the one in that London Embassy so short a time ago. At the head of a great staircase the Minister himself stood, fat and squat and ugly, to welcome the guests. He was flanked by bowing, smiling local V.I.P.’s and a strong-arm squad of guards with their right hands in their coat pockets. Behind him, and also greeting the guests but looking as though he wanted more than anything else to keep out of the limelight, was a pale, short man with thick glasses, blinking nervously. He was a good deal older than his Press photographs, but of course that had been thirteen years ago; however, even though he was nearly bald now and was sallow and wasted-looking, Shaw recognized Lawrence Carew right away.
Shaw filed past in the queue and shook the Minister’s hand. The Russian smiled affably and nodded, and then Shaw was welcomed by Carew. When Shaw was announced as an official of WIOCA Carew’s bulbous eyes looked at him keenly, as though gauging, and gauging with cynical amusement, the reaction of a fellow-countryman to a traitor. Then Shaw was swept on by the pressure of the men and women behind him and Carew was busy with a portly, fawning Russian and his wife. Turning into a large room at the top of the stairs, Shaw spotted Colonel Rogovin again and made a point of pushing through the crowd to have a word with him.
He said, “Good evening, Colonel. I’m awfully grateful to you for that pass, you know. Most obliging of you.’’
“It is nothing, Mr Alison. I hope you will enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, I will. I must have a word with Carew… thank you again.”
Rogovin escaped with obvious relief and Shaw drifted on, found a waiter with a tray of drinks. Circulating as best he could in the crush, he found himself near a group of Englishmen, business executives and salesmen from their conversation, talking together in a corner. He heard the name Carew mentioned after a while, contemptuously, and a few references came up as to the way their passports had been impounded so arbitrarily. Then they began discussing the implications of what appeared to be going on in Moscow and what effect it was going to have on the Five Powers’ talks and the prospect of a summit conference. Idly Shaw listened for a while in the hope of picking up something that he might have missed, but there wasn’t anything and he moved on. It was at least a comfort to know that he wasn’t the only Englishman present; if he had been, then the MVD might well have taken more interest in him.
He drank sparingly, keeping a half-full glass in his hand and refusing all the blandishments of waiters and the Russians to whom, for the sake of appearances, he talked now and again.
He was waiting his time now. He felt keyed-up, tense in his stomach. He knew he had to wait until the reception was nearly over. After forty-five minutes he went off to the cloakroom, where he shifted the Luger to his pocket.
The chance came when the Minister himself was on the point of leaving and Carew had lingered for a word with a couple of the guests. Carew, Shaw had noticed, hadn’t been much of an attraction in spite of his reputation as a backroom boy. It could be that few people knew about him simply because he was a backroom boy, or again it could be something in his own personality, which seemed to Shaw to be meagre and unattractive.
Shaw went over to him slowly, casually, drifted up behind him as the other two went off. He said, “Dr Carew.”
Carew jumped and swung round, his eyes large and protruding behind the heavy spectacles. He said, “Oh. You surprised me.” He gave a nervous titter. “Why — it’s the WIOCA man. Do I know you?”
“I doubt it.” Shaw kept his voice low as he became aware of a thickset man watching from a comer, a man who could be Carew’s bodyguard. “I’m not all that anxious to make your acquaintance anyhow, Carew, but it so happens I want a word in your ear.” He put his right hand in his coat pocket. “Don’t start looking for your pals, Carew, if you’ve got any. I’ve got a gun in my pocket and it’s lined up on your stomach and if you take so much as a deep breath I’ll spill your lunch on the floor. Right?”
Carew licked his lips, his face grey. He said, “I–I don’t understand. I don’t know you. What do you want?”
“I’ll tell you that later. Listen, I don’t want to start anything unless you force me to, but just bear in mind that my life isn’t all that important — and I’ve got just a hunch, Carew, that if I kill you somebody’s plans are going to get mighty bitched up for a while. I’m willing to give my own life for that. So don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m bluffing. I’m not. Now — just relax.” His eyes hardened. “Go on, Carew, or I’ll really get dangerous.”
“I–I can’t relax just—”
“Try. Or I’ll kill you. If anybody gets suspicious, you’ve had it, Carew. Just look as if you’re enjoying an interesting conversation… ah, that’s better!” he said encouragingly. “Hold it that way. Now pull out your handkerchief and get rid of those beads of sweat on your forehead. It’s not all that hot in here.”
Carew did as he was told, his hand shaking badly.
Shaw asked, “When are you leaving here?”
“In — in two or three minutes—”
“What are your plans for this evening?”
“Nothing. I–I’m staying in the hotel, you know. I… they’re going to send my dinner up to my room.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but your plans have changed, Carew. You’re coming with me. Now, I happen to know that you got your start in life on a WIOCA scholarship. I won’t go into details, but I’ve already established that link with you so far as the MVD is concerned and there won’t be any trouble whatever unless you make it yourself. If you do — you know what will happen. So now you’ll just tell that tame bodyguard of yours that you’re coming with me and on your way out you’ll chat to me about how grateful you are to my people for putting you on the road to the stars. If anyone else talks to you, keep up the same line but get rid of ’em as quickly as you can. Get it? I’ll be right behind you all the time — and I speak fluent Russian, by the way.”
Carew’s eyes stared, glassily.
“And take that scared look off your face! When you’ve done that, start walking to the staircase and speak to your guard on the way. If you don’t want to be ripped up the backbone, don’t take chances. You’ll be dead long before anyone can grab me.”
Carew went across the room towards the tame gunman, with Shaw close behind. The scientist spoke to the bodyguard, who nodded obsequiously and then accompanied Shaw and Carew down the stairs. As they reached the bottom and headed for the exit, Shaw glanced at the MVD who were still on the doorway, saw that they were not taking much notice of the departing guests. But he nudged Carew’s back with the muzzle of the Luger and Carew, taking the hint, began talking in a high-pitched voice, mouthing platitudes for all he was worth and doing his level best to avoid the sudden rip of metal in his back that would end his life. They went on down the steps and at the bottom Shaw came up alongside Carew and propelled him along to the end of the line of official cars and beyond them out into the road, still accompanied by the bodyguard.
Looking ahead he saw Triska’s car parked in the shadows.
Something had made the Russian gunman suspicious just as they came up to the little car.
Shaw heard the man’s warning shout to Carew and saw him bring out a gun. Quickly he lifted his hand and reversed the Luger, brought it down with a cutting movement, hard across the curve of the Russian’s neck, and then he caught him as he fell. Triska had already pushed open the front near-side door and Shaw heaved the body in, motioning Carew to follow into the back. No one had seen a thing.