Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less by Jeffrey Archer

Author:Jeffrey Archer [Archer, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780312997137
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2004-04-29T07:00:00+00:00

"Is Room 120 free?"

"Yes sir, they checked out this morning, but I am not sure if it is ready for occupancy yet. I think the maid is still clearing the room. I'll have to check, sir," said the tall receptionist in his morning suit, indicating that he was a senior member of the floor staff.

"Oh, don't worry about that," said James. "I always have that room. Can you book me in for one night. Name's Drosser, Herr—um—Helmut Drosser."

He slipped a pound over the counter.

"Certainly, sir."

"That's Park Lane, Stephen. Look right—the big hotel on the corner straight in front of you is the Dorchester. The semicircle facing you is the main entrance. Go up the steps and through the revolving door and you'll find reception on your right. James ought to be there."

Adrian was grateful that the annual dinner of the Royal Society for Medicine had been held at the Dorchester last year.

"Where's Harvey?" bleated Stephen.

"Only forty yards behind you."

Stephen quickened his pace and ran up the steps of the Dorchester and pushed through the revolving door so hard that the other residents going round found themselves on the street faster than they had originally planned. Thank God, James was there holding a key.

"The lift's over there," said James, pointing. "You've only chosen one of the most expensive suites in the hotel."

Stephen glanced in the direction James had indicated and turned back to thank him. But James was already heading off to the American Bar to be sure he was well out of sight when Harvey arrived.

Stephen left the lift and found Room 120 on the first floor. The Dorchester, which he had never entered before, was as traditional as Claridge's and its thick royal blue and golden carpets led to a magnificently appointed corner suite which overlooked Hyde Park. He collapsed into an easy chair, not quite sure what to expect next. Nothing had gone as planned.

Jean Pierre waited at the gallery, James sat in the American Bar and Adrian loitered by the side of Barclays Bank, Park Lane, a mock Tudor building fifty yards from the entrance of the Dorchester. All four waited nervously.

"Have you a Mr. Drosser staying at this hotel? I think it's Room 120," barked Harvey.

The receptionist looked up the name.

"Yes, sir. Is he expecting you?"

"No, but I want a word with him on the house phone."

"Of course, sir. Would you be kind enough to go through the small archway on your left, and you will find five telephones. One of them is the house phone."

Harvey marched through the archway as directed.

"Room 120," he instructed the operator, sitting in his own little section, wearing the green Dorchester uniform with golden castles on his lapels.

"Cubicle Number One, please, sir."

"Mr. Drosser?"

"Speaking," said Stephen, summoning up his German accent for a sustained effort.

"I wonder if I could come up and have a word with you? My name is Harvey Metcalfe. It's about the Van Gogh you bought this morning."

"Well, it's a little inconvenient at the moment. I am about to take a shower and I do have a lunch appointment.

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