“Find him?” said Adam.
“Hans Kramer,” said the porter.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” said Adam. As he turned to leave, he saw the young boy and his girlfriend were following close behind
Adam ran down the drive and hailed a passing taxi.
“Where to?” said the cabbie.
“The Royal Lancaster Hotel.”
“But that’s only just round the corner.”
“I know,” said Adam, “but I’m already late.”
“Suit yourself, guv,” said the cabbie, “it’s your money.”
As the cab moved off Adam peered out of the back window to see his table-tennis opponent in conversation with the porter. The girl stood alongside them, pointing at the taxi.
Adam relaxed when the cab turned the corner and they were out of sight.
In less than a minute the taxi had drawn up outside the Royal Lancaster. Adam handed the cabbie half a crown and waited for the change. Then he pushed through the revolving doors of the hotel and hung around in the foyer for a few moments before returning to the pavement again. He checked his watch: twelve-thirty. Easily enough time for lunch, he thought, before going on to his interview with the Foreign Office. He headed across Bayswater Road into the park at a brisk pace, knowing he couldn’t hope to find a pub until he reached Knightsbridge.
Adam recalled the table-tennis match. Damn, he thought. I should have thrashed him. At least that would have given him something else to think about.
Romanov’s eye ran down the list of the fourteen banks. There was still an outside chance that one of them might be in possession of the Czar’s icon, but the names meant nothing to him. It was another world, and he knew he would now have to seek advice from an expert.
He unlocked the top drawer of his desk and flicked through the red book held only by the most senior-ranking officers in the KGB. Many names had been scratched out or overwritten as regimes came and went, but Alexei Andreyevich Poskonov had remained in his present position as Chairman of the National Bank for nearly a decade. Only Gromyko, the Foreign Secretary, had served in any office longer. Romanov dialed a number on his private line and asked to be put through to the chairman of Gosbank. It was some considerable time before another voice came on the line.
“Comrade Romanov, what can I do for you?”
“I urgently need to see you,” said Romanov.
“Really?” The gravelly tones that came from the other end of the line sounded distinctly unimpressed. Romanov could hear pages being flicked over. “I could manage Tuesday, say eleven-thirty?”
“I said it was urgent,” repeated Romanov. “It concerns a State matter that can’t wait.”
“We are the nation’s bankers and do have one or two problems of our own, you might be surprised to hear,” came back the unrepentant voice. Romanov checked himself and waited. There was more flicking of pages. “Well, I suppose I could fit you in at three forty-five today, for fifteen minutes,” said the banker. “But I must warn you that I have a long-standing engagement at four.”
“Three forty-five it is, then,” said Romanov.
“In my office,” said Poskonov. The phone went dead.
Romanov cursed out loud. Why did everyone feel obliged to prove their manhood with the KGB? He began to write down the questions he needed answered in order to put his plan into operation. He couldn’t afford to waste even a minute of his fifteen. An hour later he asked to see the Chairman of the KGB. This time he was not kept waiting.
“Trying to play the c
apitalists at their own game, are we?” said Zaborski, once Romanov had outlined his intentions. “Be careful. They’ve been at it a lot longer than we have.”
“I realize that,” said Romanov. “But if the icon is in the West, I’m left with little choice but to use their methods to get my hands on it.”
“Perhaps,” said the Chairman. “But with your name such an approach could be misunderstood.”
Romanov knew better than to interrupt the brief silence that ensued. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the backing you need—although I’ve never had a request quite like this one before.”
“Am I allowed to know why the icon is so important?” Romanov inquired.
The Chairman of the KGB frowned. “I do not have the authority to answer that question, but as Comrade Brezhnev’s enthusiasm for the arts is well known, you must have been able to work out that it is not the painting itself that we are after.”