Gemini. Mark Burnell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ ‘Green, if you have it.’

       She pushes a button on the phone base. ‘Adam, two teas, when you‘re ready. One green, one lemon and ginger.’

       ‘What do you know about Savic?’

       ‘Not much. He hasn’t strayed across my desk. But I’ve heard the rumours, naturally. There’ve been alleged sightings of him in Germany, Belgium and Holland. Some say he runs a chain of call-girls in Prague and Budapest.’

       ‘How original.’

       ‘Others say he’s gun-running down to Maputo. Or was it Harare?’

       ‘That sounds more like Mostovoi’s line of work.’

       ‘There have been reports of him in Pyongyang, Osaka and Shanghai.’

       ‘How long can it be before he’s spotted working with Elvis in a fish-and-chip shop in Scarborough? Anything concrete?’

       ‘Not until you landed Lars Andersen. By the way, I’m sorry about S3. I’ll get somebody to put some stuff together for you. Give me a couple of days.’

       ‘Thanks.’

       ‘How’s Mark?’

       ‘He’s well. We’re starting to plan a big climbing trip for next summer.’

       ‘Where?’

       ‘El Capitan.’

       ‘Never heard of it.’

       ‘It’s in California. What about you? How was your date with that architect? You never said. Did he have any designs on you?’

       Rosie winces. ‘Oh Steph, that’s really lame. Even for you.’

       ‘Couldn’t resist it.’

      ‘Put it this way. He made me go halves at dinner and then wanted to go the whole way afterwards.’

       I laugh loudly. As gorgeous as she is, Rosie has little luck with men. I suspect it’s because she intimidates most of them. She wants to be dazzled and so assumes they do too. If she was more like me she’d understand that most men don’t want a competitor in a woman, or even an equal.

       ‘Are you taking precautions?’ she asks me.

       ‘God, you sound like my mother.’

       ‘You know what I mean.’

       I tell her I am. The door opens and Adam, Rosie’s assistant, enters the room carrying two steaming mugs. He’s older than she is, in his mid-forties, perhaps. Stereotypically, it would be easy to imagine that he was Rosie’s boss. But then there’s nothing conventional here.

       Rosie’s parents are first-generation immigrants. Both are doctors, both still practising; her mother is a GP, her father is a chest specialist. They live in north London and have three other children, all boys. Two work in the City, one shoots commercials. None of them have any idea what she does. Like me, she lies. Like me, she’s so good at it, it’s as natural to her as telling the truth. They believe she’s a security analyst at the Centre for Defence Studies at King’s College, London. Elsewhere it might seem strange that a young second-generation Indian woman is heading an outfit like the Ether Division. But in our world it seems perfectly normal because we can be anybody we need to be at any given moment.

      They drove south-west in Mark’s fifteen-year-old slate grey Saab, reaching the Saracen Arms, a fifteenth-century manor house with a twenty-first-century interior.

      Saturday was hot and still. They climbed at Uphill Quarry, a Site of Special Scientific Interest on account of its rare flora. A westerly crag set beneath a village church and a graveyard, Uphill’s challenges were technical rather than strength-orientated. Mark climbed smoothly, but Stephanie felt heavy-limbed and was frustrated to be stumped by A Lesser Evil on the Great Yellow Wall. Mark completed The Jimi Hendrix Experience – the route had recently been bolted – and then both of them completed Graveyard Gate, the arête furthest to the right of the Pedestal Wall.

      In the evening they soaked for an hour in the giant freestanding bath in their bathroom, then ordered room service. They ate looking out to sea, as the bloody sun set. They drank a bottle of Mercurey and Stephanie expected they would make love. Instead, somehow, they fell asleep without either of them noticing. When Stephanie awoke she was face down on the bed, cocooned in a white dressing-gown, Mark beside her, snoring and sunburnt.

      Sunday was hotter but with a breeze. They drove to Brean Down, a limestone peninsula protruding into the Bristol Channel, not far from Uphill Quarry. Boulder Cove was a five-minute walk across the beach from the car park. They warmed up on Coral Sea and then proceeded up Achtung Torpedo, through the face’s black bulge, before moving on to Chulilla, Casino Royale and Root of Inequity. Stephanie climbed effortlessly, the clumsiness of Saturday falling away from her as lightly as sweat. Mark finished with Anti-Missile Missile, a girdle traverse.

      From Brean Down they drove straight back to London, simultaneously spent and energized. They were sitting in a traffic jam on the M4, not far from Heathrow, when Stephanie said, ‘I might have a new job lined up.’

      ‘Oh yeah?’

      ‘It might be longer term than usual.’

      ‘Longer than Uzbekistan?’

      At three weeks, the journey from Ostend to Marrakech had been her longest contract since she’d started seeing Mark by more than a fortnight. Usually she was only away for two or three days. That made the deception a lot easier.

      ‘Could be. I don’t know yet.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘I’m not sure.’

      ‘You don’t sound very happy about it.’

      ‘Well, to be honest, I’m considering a change of career.’

      He gave her a quick glance. ‘Really?’

      ‘After this job, yes. Maybe.’

      ‘How long have you been thinking about this?’

      ‘Not long. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it.’

      ‘What will you do instead?’

      Stephanie smiled. ‘That’s the good part. I have no idea.’

      Magenta House was two different buildings that had been merged laterally. The building that overlooked Victoria Embankment Gardens had been erected by a wealthy sugar trader who had insisted on a large cellar. When Stephanie had first come to Magenta House the cellar had still housed wines, brandies, damp and dirt. It had been a smaller organization, then. No less venal, but more personal, it had been Alexander’s private fiefdom. Now it СКАЧАТЬ