The Brotherhood by Alan Williams

Author:Alan Williams [Williams, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2020-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

PART 3: NIGHT RIDE

CHAPTER 1

Magnus felt safe. Safe, because she and her friends were looking after him, seeing he came to no harm. He was in London, and London was safe. Safe as this big dreary hotel off the Gloucester Road — a Victorian retreat for retired officers and elderly ladies with small private means. Hardly the place to put a man like Bogdan Krok; but then the funds of the East-West Association were probably not lavish; his first-class air fare from Paris had been paid for by his French sponsors.

He found he could think almost clearly now, although it was easier when he turned his head from the wall, which was a churning pattern of crimson and mauve. The floor was gentler — a well-trodden carpet. The room contained a single bed, washbasin, table and chair, a wardrobe and a small sofa.

It was on the sofa that Magnus was now lying, his knees hooked up uncomfortably under his chin. It was not a large room, and Bogdan Krok was pacing it like an animal in a cage.

Magnus began to sit up. He said painfully: ‘Bogdan, where is she? Where’s Maya?’

Krok’s long legs swung past him, pausing at the table where he drank something from a bottle. ‘She’s crazy! She went to the embassy.’

‘What embassy?’

‘Our embassy. The embassy of the great Polish People’s Republic.’

Magnus knew that he should be surprised by this: but all that happened was a great roaring in his ears like a train going into a tunnel. When it stopped he was lying on his back again looking up at Krok, who towered above him swinging a brandy bottle like a club.

‘Maya went to our embassy, so now you have a drink and then we go to the newspapers.’ He thrust the bottle at Magnus, who began to struggle up again, trying to avoid the giddy wallpaper. He remembered the Citroën’s nose buried into the side of the Hillman; remembered again that he’d missed his deadline, missed his scoop on Krok, that he might even get the sack; and all Maya had done was run off to solicit help from a Communist embassy. ‘Oh my God!’ he groaned.

Krok had resumed his pacing, five strides to the wall, five back. ‘We go to the newspapers and tell them the story. You saw what happened. Maya told us — they were trying to get me arrested for driving a car when I was drunk.’

‘And you beat up a police officer. That’s worse, Bogdan. G.B.H. Grievous bodily harm.’

Krok growled and sat down on the end of the sofa. ‘So what do I do, huh? Lie on my back and wait for them to come and destroy me? I’m not a sick dog with one testicle, I tell you! And I’m not an idiot! We go to the newspapers and we tell them everything. We telephone them and they come here and we hold a press conference.’

‘At one o’clock in the morning?’ But he conceded that allowing for Krok’s limited knowledge of England, the idea had a certain bold logic.

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