The Prodigal Spy by Kanon Joseph

Author:Kanon, Joseph [Kanon, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Mystery, Suspense, Adventure, Fiction, Literary
ISBN: 9781568957159
Google: gNJaAAAAMAAJ
Amazon: 0440225345
Barnesnoble: 0440225345
Goodreads: 594613
Publisher: Island Books
Published: 1998-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

By the time they got to town they were alone again; the other cars had melted away into the dark edges of the city as mysteriously as they had come. The streets were deserted, wet cobblestones cut by the bumpy tram rails, whose metal caught their headlights and gleamed back at them through the mist. Dim pools of yellow light from the street lamps. It was, finally, the Prague of his imagination, Kafka’s maze of alleys and looming towers, spires poking suddenly through the fog. They drove along the river, Hradčany somewhere off to the right, then turned into streets where nothing was visible beyond the reach of the car’s lights and, still lulled by the dope, Nick felt that he had begun driving through his own mind, one confusing turn after another, going in circles. How could anyone live here? When they reached Wenceslas, the empty, lighted tram that appeared clanging in front of them seemed to come out of a dream.

The parky stalls were closed but the Alcron was still awake, the doorman leaping from the bright door as if he’d been waiting for them. The lobby was empty. Nick saw the bellhop and desk clerk glance up. The drug was wearing off, leaving only a pleasant tiredness and now the familiar sensation that everyone was watching them. For an instant he stopped, then smiled to himself. They were being watched; it was what people did here. Did they notice he was walking slowly? Then the bellhop yawned, and he saw that his cover would be exhaustion. It was only eleven, but everyone seemed ready for bed.

“A long day, Pan Warren,” the clerk said, handing him the key. “Not so nice for Karlovy Vary, the weather.”

Was he checking up or only being polite?

“You took the waters?”

Nick looked at him blankly, but Molly said, “Why do the glasses have those pipestems?”

“Pipestems? Ah, like a pipe, yes. To drink in. For the minerals, you see. To get past the teeth. Otherwise they would stain.”

“Ah,” Molly said. “Well, goodnight.”

The desk clerk smiled and bowed at them, satisfied.

“That was good,” Nick said as they crossed to the elevator.

“It’s the only thing I remembered about the place, those funny little glasses. Thank God. Now he can put it in his report. Our day at Karlsbad.”

Nick stopped. “But it wouldn’t be true. I mean, just because something’s in a report. There it is in black and white, but we were never there.”

Molly looked at him for an instant, then lowered her eyes. “But the lighter was.”

“How can we be sure?”

“Ask him.”

Their room was stifling, the heavy drapes drawn tight, and while Molly ran her bath, he opened the windows, then lay on the bed in his underwear, feeling the cool night air move over him. His body was tired but alert, and when he closed his eyes he could hear the sounds around him with a sharp clarity: water splashing in the tub; the bells of the late trams below, carried in by the mist, disconnected, like the sounds of ships at night.

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