The Summer of 75 by Dan Wheatcroft - HTML preview

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Chapter 10

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There’s a phone call for you in reception, Herr Baker.”

He followed him down. The receptionist pointed to the booth in the corner. “You can take it in there; the only other connected phone is this one on the desk. You’ll have complete privacy.”

The voice at the end of the line said, “Baker? Our friends in Century House are making enquiries about you. Expect some interference.” It was the Old Man.

“It’s a bit too late for that. I’ve already met one of them and Rupert has a very nasty personality.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Only a bath and I’ll run that myself. By the way, I’ve made friends with an American, it’s a genuine thing, it could even be love and he’s a handy looking chap. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Well, not really, but we prepared a little history about you just to divert attention from ourselves, Baker; Ex-police officer, discharged in disgrace, Kray twins and all that, now freelancing, that sort of thing. It should be good enough in the short term.”

“I was wondering where my new admirer got his information from.”

“Have you had a spot of bother?”

“You could say that. I very nearly gave up all hope of fathering children.” There was a mutual pause whilst the Old Man thought about it and Gally thought about how much to tell him. “They lost one by the way. Nice chap, Tristan. It wasn’t me but I’m pretty sure I’ll get the blame. It was my new admirer. He’s keen on keeping things tidy.”

“Really? In that case, just make sure you’re very careful.”

“I wish you’d told me that yesterday, I was only being careful then. The ‘very’ could have made all the difference.”

“Yes, quite. Well, just put it all in your report if you get back.” He put the phone down. The Old Man sat back with a satisfied smile. That should knock some of the flippancy out of him, he thought.

Gallagher took his bath then tossed his old clothes into the waxed canvas holdall Clare had bought him. She’d reckoned it said ‘well travelled’ but also looked chic. She also said the colour was ‘moss’ but he was pretty certain it was really grey and he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to look ‘well travelled’; vanity mixed with the needs of the job. He looked at his face in the mirror. The nose was swollen and tender and his eye was showing bruising. His left ear was sore to the touch and when he did it felt as if someone had shoved a brick in it. Running a finger around his teeth, he decided dental work was unnecessary.

A change of clothes, he collected his things and went to the check-in desk.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to move on. I need to be somewhere else, business matters. I’ll pay for my room for tonight. It’s only fair but please don’t let it out to anyone, I may send a friend over to spend the night, if that’s alright”

“Perfectly, Herr Baker, it’s ‘your’ room after all.” They exchanged smiles and the man processed the American Express.

There was no friend ‘possibly spending the night’. His recent interrogator obviously knew where he was staying so a move was expedient plus he didn’t want it on his conscience if the hotel let it out to someone who could well receive an unwelcome and extremely unpleasant visit.

He took a taxi to a suitable phone box not far from the hotel that he’d seen in the tourist map he’d left in his room.

“Clive, I’ve moved house as a precaution but the added problem is that my aunt Greta has suddenly passed away. I forgot to mention it when I spoke to the Old Man.  Anyway, I’m reasonably certain I’ve solved the puzzle so I’m going with it. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to call again.”

“I understand. Just be aware that Century has sent a replacement part with another to follow soon. No further details. Do you need an increment to assist with unforeseen expenses?” His last remark was the offer of Farralland support.

“No, I’m best on my own otherwise it becomes a circus. Speak to you when I can, Clive.”

After settling into his new place, he checked his wrist and left for his meeting with Deacon.

“Gee, buddy, what happened to you?”

“I met a maniac who doesn’t like me. Have you got the photos? Possibly of no consequence now but I’d best make sure.” Deek showed him.

“Yeah, that’s them.” He pointed at the image of Rupert. “This one is dangerous. The other fellow doesn’t matter because he’s dead now. His friend here shot him.” He took a swig from his beer. “I need to move on to Austria. Who do you know out there you can trust?”

“Our people or theirs?

“Theirs, if that’s possible?”

“There’s only one person there I’d trust with my life.”

Meanwhile, Rupert walked into the hotel and asked for Herr Baker. The receptionist said, “Ah, you are a friend?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I understand,” she said searching through the drawer hidden on her side of the desk. “The key is not here so he must still be in his room. It’s room six. Follow the signs up the stairs.” Rupert flashed his best smile.

In the hallway on the first floor, he took out his pistol and listened at the door. He could hear a radio. He tried the handle, locked. Gun at the ready, he stepped back and kicked the door in.

A rapid search found him nothing but a tourist map discarded in the bin. He quickly opened it out then, re-folded, stuffed it in his pocket and turned the headboard radio off.

On exit, he saw the cleaning lady trundling a trolley towards him. She waved. “Are you Herr Baker’s friend? I’m sorry but I haven’t serviced the room yet. I’m going to do it now.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, I don’t. I know, he’s moved on but he didn’t say where. If you wait in the bar I’ll have it ready for you in thirty minutes.” She searched through the keys on her cart, selected one then picked up a bundle of towels and let herself into the adjoining room.

By the time she discovered the damaged door, he was well gone.

Gally, after his chat with Deacon, felt the need for food. Now, wiping his lips on the cheap paper serviette, free with his frikadelle and ‘senf’, he threw the tray and the slice of bread he never asked for in the bin. The arrangements were in hand but he wanted to check his maps once more to be finally sure but first, he needed to find a ‘waschsalon’, a laundromat; the pants in his bag were beginning to smell and he needed to speak to an unused contact.

Later that afternoon, Rupert made the crossing to the East again. He had to tell Max Drexler that his would-be defector was a ranking Stasi official.