Read Online Agent in Place by Helen MacInnes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helen MacInnes
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be no chance for a tête-à-tête with Tom. He gave Dorothea a brief kiss on her cheek and one of his best smiles. A polite nod to the Englishman, a small word or two to Brad Gillon whom he remembered from Washington days, and he had the typewriter in his hand and an apology on his lips. “No, I won’t sit down—I might not get up again for another hour. Besides, I have a feeling that I’m interrupting a good party. When do you get back from Paris, Tom?” He was already moving to the door.
“Sunday. A week from tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then. Come and stay at my place—I’ve a couch that makes into a fairly good bed.”
“I may do that.”
“Wonderful!”
Dorothea said, “By the way, Chuck, you’d better clean the type. Some letters are a little blurred with ink and gunk. I meant to do that yesterday, but—”
“It works, doesn’t it? Which is more than can be said for my machine. Thanks, Tom. Thanks a million. And I’ll have it back tomorrow morning. Okay? I’ll drop it off on my way to Shandon.”
“Sunday on the job?” Tom asked. “You really are in a bind.”
“It happens, every now and again.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Brad agreed. “Bye, Chuck.” Goodbyes from Tom and Dorothea, too. Tony Lawton smiled and nodded. The door closed and Chuck was on his way.
Throughout the brief visit, Tony had said nothing at all. His interest in Chuck had been politely disguised. “Now,” he said, as he stopped examining his drink, “So that is one of Shandon’s bright young men.”
“Never met anyone from there before?” Brad asked. “If you like, I’ll introduce you to Paul Krantz, the director. He’s an old friend of—”
“A waste of his time. And of mine: Shandon isn’t laying down a cellar of French wines, is it?”
“Hardly,” said Tom. “At lunch, I hear, they are more apt to grab a ham on rye with a gallon of coffee.”
“Then I’ll stick to our customers in Washington. That,” he said to Dorothea, “is where I am bound now. You’d be surprised how many embassy cellars need replenishing.”
“I’ll take the hint and replenish you .” Tom reached for their glasses. And there’s a gentle hint for Tony, he thought. “And then Thea and I are leaving for dinner. That mention of ham and rye made me remember my own lunch today.”
“Go right ahead,” Tony said easily. “I’d like to stay for a few moments with Brad, and dig into that memory of his. Nice to have a friend who goes back a long way.”
Tom stared at him, said briskly, “Come on, Thea, we’ll leave them to it. Get your wrap. We’ll eat downstairs, make it an early evening.” He looked pointedly at Tony, as Dorothea left for the bedroom to collect scarf and bag.
“We’ll be away from here long before that,” Tony promised. “Where are you staying in Brussels? The old hangout? I’ll look you up if I’m around.”
As he would be. “Do that,” Tom said. “And don’t make all your nice little news items off the record. Give me something I can write up. Here’s the key to this room. Lock up tightly, will you?”
“That’s Brad’s department.”
“Oh, I forgot, he’s the one who will be dropping it at the desk. Exits must match entrances.”
“Always kidding,” Tony smiled blandly.
Brad laid the key well in view beside his drink. “We’ll talk about the book when next we meet,” he said apologetically. “How is it coming?” His rule with authors was never to press them, never harry or hurry.
“Needs some spare time, but I think I may get that.”
“Oh?” Brad probed gently.
“I’ll stop in to see you at the office, on my way to Brussels. I’ll explain then. Okay?”
“Very much so.”
Dorothea returned, her bewilderment growing as she was led in Tom’s firm grip out of the room, her little goodbye speeches cut down to a bright smile. At a safe distance along the empty corridor, she let her feelings explode. “And what on earth is going
“Sunday. A week from tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then. Come and stay at my place—I’ve a couch that makes into a fairly good bed.”
“I may do that.”
“Wonderful!”
Dorothea said, “By the way, Chuck, you’d better clean the type. Some letters are a little blurred with ink and gunk. I meant to do that yesterday, but—”
“It works, doesn’t it? Which is more than can be said for my machine. Thanks, Tom. Thanks a million. And I’ll have it back tomorrow morning. Okay? I’ll drop it off on my way to Shandon.”
“Sunday on the job?” Tom asked. “You really are in a bind.”
“It happens, every now and again.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Brad agreed. “Bye, Chuck.” Goodbyes from Tom and Dorothea, too. Tony Lawton smiled and nodded. The door closed and Chuck was on his way.
Throughout the brief visit, Tony had said nothing at all. His interest in Chuck had been politely disguised. “Now,” he said, as he stopped examining his drink, “So that is one of Shandon’s bright young men.”
“Never met anyone from there before?” Brad asked. “If you like, I’ll introduce you to Paul Krantz, the director. He’s an old friend of—”
“A waste of his time. And of mine: Shandon isn’t laying down a cellar of French wines, is it?”
“Hardly,” said Tom. “At lunch, I hear, they are more apt to grab a ham on rye with a gallon of coffee.”
“Then I’ll stick to our customers in Washington. That,” he said to Dorothea, “is where I am bound now. You’d be surprised how many embassy cellars need replenishing.”
“I’ll take the hint and replenish you .” Tom reached for their glasses. And there’s a gentle hint for Tony, he thought. “And then Thea and I are leaving for dinner. That mention of ham and rye made me remember my own lunch today.”
“Go right ahead,” Tony said easily. “I’d like to stay for a few moments with Brad, and dig into that memory of his. Nice to have a friend who goes back a long way.”
Tom stared at him, said briskly, “Come on, Thea, we’ll leave them to it. Get your wrap. We’ll eat downstairs, make it an early evening.” He looked pointedly at Tony, as Dorothea left for the bedroom to collect scarf and bag.
“We’ll be away from here long before that,” Tony promised. “Where are you staying in Brussels? The old hangout? I’ll look you up if I’m around.”
As he would be. “Do that,” Tom said. “And don’t make all your nice little news items off the record. Give me something I can write up. Here’s the key to this room. Lock up tightly, will you?”
“That’s Brad’s department.”
“Oh, I forgot, he’s the one who will be dropping it at the desk. Exits must match entrances.”
“Always kidding,” Tony smiled blandly.
Brad laid the key well in view beside his drink. “We’ll talk about the book when next we meet,” he said apologetically. “How is it coming?” His rule with authors was never to press them, never harry or hurry.
“Needs some spare time, but I think I may get that.”
“Oh?” Brad probed gently.
“I’ll stop in to see you at the office, on my way to Brussels. I’ll explain then. Okay?”
“Very much so.”
Dorothea returned, her bewilderment growing as she was led in Tom’s firm grip out of the room, her little goodbye speeches cut down to a bright smile. At a safe distance along the empty corridor, she let her feelings explode. “And what on earth is going
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