False Impression

“I need to speak to your boss on a private matter,” said Krantz.

The young girl looked uncertain, but Krantz just stared at her until she finally said, “Follow me,” and led her customer to the back of the shop, where she tentatively knocked before opening the door to a small office.

Sitting behind a large wooden desk, littered with papers, empty cigarette cartons, and a half-eaten salami sandwich, sat an overweight man in a baggy brown suit. He was wearing an open-necked red shirt that looked as if it hadn’t been washed for several days. His bald head and thick mustache made it difficult for Krantz to guess his age, although he was clearly the proprietor.

He placed both hands on the desk and looked wearily up at her. He offered a weak smile, but all Krantz noticed was the double-chinned neck. Always tricky to negotiate.

“How can I help?” he asked, not sounding as if he was convinced she was worth the effort.

Krantz told him exactly what she required. The proprietor listened in astonished silence and then burst out laughing.

“That wouldn’t come cheap,” he eventually said, “and could take some considerable time.”

“I need the uniform by this afternoon,” said Krantz.

“That’s not possible,” he said with a shrug of his heavy shoulders.

Krantz removed a wad of cash from her pocket, peeled off a hundred-dollar bill, and placed it on the desk in front of him. “This afternoon,” she repeated.

The proprietor raised his eyebrows, although his eyes never left Benjamin Franklin.

“I may just have a possible contact.”

Krantz placed another hundred on the desk.

“Yes, I think I know the ideal person.”

“And I also need her passport,” said Krantz.

“Impossible.”

Another two hundred dollars joined the Franklin twins.

“Possible,” he said, “but not easy.”

Krantz placed a further two hundred on the table, making sextuplets.

“But I feel sure some arrangement could be made,” he paused, “at the right price.” He looked up at his customer while resting his hands on his stomach.

“A thousand if everything I require is available by this afternoon.”

“I’ll do my best,” said the proprietor.

“I feel sure you will,” said Krantz. “Because I’m going to knock off a hundred dollars for every fifteen minutes after”—she looked at her watch—“two o’clock.”

The proprietor was about to protest, but thought better of it.

51

WHEN ANNA’S TAXI drove through the gates of Wentworth Hall, she was surprised to see Arabella waiting on the top step, a shotgun under her right arm and Brunswick and Picton by her side. The butler opened the taxi door as his mistress and the two Labradors walked down the steps to greet her.

“How nice to see you,” said Arabella, kissing her on both cheeks. “You’ve arrived just in time for tea.”

Anna stroked the dogs as she accompanied Arabella up the steps and into the house, while an underbutler removed her suitcase from the front of the taxi. When Anna stepped into the hall, she paused to allow her eyes to move slowly around the room, from picture to picture.

“Yes, it is nice to still have one’s family around one,” said Arabella, “even if this might be their last weekend in the country.”

“What do you mean?” asked Anna apprehensively.