A Matter of Honor

“What was to have been your plan if you had stayed awake?” asked Robin. “Other than making the bed?”

Adam smiled. “I hoped to call Lawrence again once I could be sure he had returned home and check if he had any more news for me. If he wasn’t back or couldn’t help, I was going to hire a car and try to get across the Swiss border to France and then on to England. I felt sure that between Rosenbaum and his men and the Swiss police they would have had all the airports and stations fully covered.”

“No doubt Rosenbaum will have also thought that much out as well, if he’s half as good as you claim,” said Robin. “So we’d better try and get in touch with your friend Lawrence and see if he’s come up with any bright ideas.” She pushed herself up out of the chair and walked across to the phone.

“You don’t have to get yourself involved,” said Adam hesitantly.

“I am involved,” said Robin. “And I can tell you it’s far more exciting than Schubert’s ‘Unfinished.’ Once I’ve got your friend on the line I’ll pass him over to you, and then no one will realize who’s phoning.” Adam told her the number of the flat, and she asked the girl on the switchboard to connect her.

Adam checked his watch: eleven-forty. Surely Lawrence would be home by now? The phone didn’t complete its first two rings before Robin heard a man’s voice on the line. She immediately handed the receiver over.

“Hello, who is that?” asked the voice. Adam was reminded how strange he always found it that Lawrence never announced his name.

“Lawrence, it’s me.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m still in Geneva.”

“My clients were waiting for you at eleven o’clock this morning.”

“So was Rosenbaum.”

“Who is Rosenbaum?”

“A six-foot, fair-haired, blue-eyed monster, who seems determined to kill me.”

Lawrence did not speak for some time. “And are you still in possession of our patron saint?”

“Yes, I am,” said Adam. “But what can be so important about—”

“Put the phone down and ring me back again in three minutes.”

The line went dead. Adam couldn’t fathom the sudden change in his old friend’s manner. What had he missed during those months he had lodged with him? He tried to recall details that he had previously considered unimportant and that Lawrence had so skillfully disguised.

“Is everything all right?” asked Robin, breaking into his thoughts.

“I think so,” said Adam, a little mystified “He wants me to ring back in three minutes. Will that be all right with you?”

“This tour’s already lost eight thousand pounds of the taxpayers’ money, so what difference can a few international calls make?” she said.

Three minutes later, Robin picked up the receiver and repeated the number. In one ring Lawrence was back on the line.

“Only answer my questions,” said Lawrence.

“No, I will not answer your questions,” said Adam, becoming increasingly annoyed with Lawrence’s manner. “I want one or two of my own answered before you get anything more out of me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” said a more gentle-sounding Lawrence.

“Who is Rosenbaum?”

Lawrence didn’t immediately reply.

“You’ll get nothing further from me until you start telling the truth,” said Adam.

“From your description I have every reason to believe Rosenbaum is a Russian agent whose real name is Alex Romanov.”

“A Russian agent? But why should a Russian agent want to get his hands on my icon?”