Alec Milius Spy Series Books 1 and 2: A Spy By Nature, The Spanish Game

He takes my hand and the shake is firmer than it was before. But I am worried that the plan to visit the NFT will be forgotten as a casual passing remark. I cannot mention it again at the risk of appearing pushy. The invitation will have to come from them.

Fortner now turns to Saul, and Katharine takes me to one side.

‘Do you have a card?’ she asks, holding a slim piece of embossed white plastic in her hand. ‘So Fort can get in touch about the movie.’

Luck is on my side.

‘Of course.’

We exchange cards. Katharine studies mine carefully.

‘Milius, huh? Like the name.’

‘Me too,’ says Fortner, breaking in from behind and slapping me hard on the back. ‘So we’re set for John Wayne? Leave the womenfolk at home?’

Katharine adopts an expression of good-humoured exasperation.

‘Looking forward to it,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll give you a call.’

An hour later the Hobbit weaves towards me carrying a glass of sparkling mineral water. Saul is inside the club, talking to the waitress.

‘Hi, Matt.’

He looks slightly sheepish.

‘How did you get on?’

‘Very well. I think we’re going to see each other again. I just bumped into them as they were leaving and we chatted for another ten minutes.’

‘Good,’ he says, picking a piece of lemon out of his drink and dropping it to the ground.

‘Manners, Matthew.’

‘Nobody saw,’ he says, looking quickly left and right. ‘Nobody saw.’

THIRTEEN

The Searchers

‘So how did it go?’

Hawkes is leaning back in a moulded plastic chair on the second floor of the Abnex building. The blinds are drawn in the small grey conference room, the door closed. His feet are up on the table, hands clasped behind his neck.

‘Fine. Really well.’

He arches his eyebrows, pressing me.

‘And? Anything else? What happened?’

I lean forward, putting my arms on the table.

‘I met Saul at seven for a drink in the bar. You know, where they have all those bookstalls under Waterloo Bridge.’

Hawkes nods. The soles of his shoes are scuffed to the colour of slate.

‘Fortner was on time. Seven fifteen. We had another round of drinks, bought our tickets, and went in.’

‘Who paid?’

‘For the drinks or the tickets?’

‘Both.’

‘Everybody went dutch. Don’t worry. There was no largesse.’

Somebody walks past outside at a fast clip.

‘Go on,’ he says.

As it always is when we are talking business, Hawkes’s manner is abrupt to the point of being rude. Increasingly he has become a withdrawn figure, an enigma at the back of the room.

‘Saul sat between us. There was no planning to it. It just worked out that way. We saw The Searchers, and afterwards I told him we had to go to a party. Which we did.’

‘Did you invite him along?’

‘I thought that would be pushing things.’

‘Yes,’ he says after a moment’s contemplation. ‘But in your view Grice wasn’t offended by that?’

I light a cigarette.

‘Not at all. Look, I’ve obviously been thinking about what I was going to tell you this afternoon. And it’s a measure of how well things went that I feel as if I have nothing of any significance to reveal. It was all very straightforward, very normal. It went exceptionally well. Fortner has a youthful side to his personality, like someone much younger. Just as you said he did. He fitted in, and if I’d invited him to the party, he would have fitted in there, too. He was making an effort, of course, but he’s one of those middle-aged men who are hanging on to something youthful in their nature.’

Hawkes folds his arms.

‘So it wasn’t at all awkward,’ I tell him. ‘When we were having the drink beforehand, we talked like we were old friends. It was a boys’ night out.’

‘And how do you want to play it now?’

‘My instinct is that they’ll call.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Because he likes me. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

No reaction. Hawkes is assessing whether I have read the situation correctly.

I continue, ‘He left saying that Katharine wanted to have dinner sometime. He also wants to introduce Saul to a friend of his in advertising who used to be an actor. He’s interested, believe me.’