The Jaded Spy by Nick Spill

Author:Nick Spill [Spill, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780578569376
Published: 2019-11-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-one

Alexander tucked the van out of sight on a small road off Grafton Road and walked to Tsara’s house with his camera bag on his shoulder. “You’ll never guess where I’ve been all night,” he gushed when she opened the front door. “But first I need to pee!”

Later: “Well, as you read in the Herald.” Alexander sipped his tea and took a bite of Tsara’s cake. “It was stolen sometime after we left for the party. The usual Maori are suspects, and I’ve been told to keep an eye on the Soviet diplomat we saw Saturday night. I’ve been hanging out where he’s staying in Epsom. But here the plot thickens.”

Tsara held her hands up. “No more cake. You have to finish the story.”

“He used a decoy to drive his car to where the painting was stashed. I think. I gambled and followed the car and parked where I could see both the car and the house. I thought she had gone too.”

“She? The decoy?”

“Yes. A young Russian woman I lost sight of. I didn’t want to be seen following her and by the time I figured out where she was, she was gone.”

Alexander did not know what to make of the face Tsara made.

“I’ve seen her before, but she disappeared. I stayed all night waiting for the car to move. At about six the Soviet showed, put a package in the boot and sped off. It was the size of the painting, but it was dark. I lost him when he turned off Parnell Road onto one of the side streets. I couldn’t follow because I sensed he was going to criss-cross all over Parnell until he knew he didn’t have a tail. I gambled and headed to where he was staying in Epsom, hid the van on a side street and went for a little walk. Sure enough, a few minutes later the Jag cruised to his dead-end street and backed into a space where I couldn’t see him.”

“My favorite spy.”

“What, him?”

“No, you, silly. You made pretty big decisions and won. Or did you?”

“I called it in just now from a payphone, told everyone where the painting is. Well, where I think the painting might be. Anyway, it’s out of my hands.” He lowered his voice. “I think I deserve a present now.”

Tsara went into the kitchen for another slice of her fruit cake. “You’ve turned into quite a ladies’ man haven’t you?”

“What?”

“First, it’s that doctor. ‘Oh, I do want to see your dojo,’ and now it’s a mysterious Russian woman.”

The phone rang. Alexander leapt up. “I have a bad feeling.”

Tsara blinked.

“Hello?”

“Newton, where are you? It’s almost nine o’clock. Report to the gallery right away. Leave the van parked on Kitchener and come to the library. Bring your camera and any film you have.”

Alexander looked at the phone, at his cake, and back at Tsara. He grabbed the slice.

“Who was that?” Tsara asked.

“The cop you don’t like. I have to go.” He was annoyed that Grimble knew where he was and had ordered him to work.

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