Read Online Debut for a Spy by Harry Currie - Free Book Online

decay and eventual demolition. Without the foreign purchases these properties would probably have been sold to developers, with the usual disastrous results.
    “It's number 13, David, on the right. Drive to the gate and I get us past the attendant.”
    I pulled in to the entrance, stopping as a man in civilian clothes came to my side of the car. He seemed to recognize Marijke, but was very brusque in his manner.
    “ Odostoverenia pozalsta ,” he said to Marijke, and she showed her pass. He continued, “ E muzchyna ?”
    “ U nivau vstrycha su Palkaunik Nalishkin .”
    I noticed the stress on Nalishkin's name as Marijke said it, and it had the decided effect.
    “ Prukudit ,” he said, stepping back smartly, and we drove in to park the car.
    The house itself was very large, but not very pretty to look at. The buff-coloured bricks needed a good cleaning, and this contributed to a forbidding appearance. There were two full stories with a partial story above, the latter probably for the servants when the house had been a residence. A portico with hanging lamps sheltered the heavy, studded oak doors. A flag-staff jutted out from above the portico, but it was not graced by a flag. As we ascended the double entrance stairway I had an uneasy feeling, but I couldn't explain it.
    “I take you to Mr. Nalishkin's office, David, and I go to my office and see if papers are ready. Then I come back. Is this agreeable with you?”
    “ Yes, that's fine. Which floor do you work on, Marijke?”
    “ I am not so important to work in this building,” laughed Marika. “My office is across the street in number 18, which is for administration. This is where I go after I take you inside.”
    We entered through the heavy doors, stopping by a glass-enclosed security booth on the right-hand side. There was a uniformed guard, but I didn't recognize the uniform. Marijke took a pen and wrote in a large book which lay open on the desk.
    “I sign you in,” she said, replacing the pen. “Now come. I take you to Mr. Nalishkin.”
    From the entrance black marble columns, she led me into an extremely large two-storied room which reminded me of a banqueting hall in a baronial castle. It was paneled in dark, solid oak, with a huge oak double staircase on our left. As it was in the center of the house there were no windows, but light poured in through a large, raised, leaded and stained-glass skylight which took up most of the area of the ceiling.
    Over a landing on the staircase hung a portrait of Lenin, and, above us, a balcony surrounded the whole room. With the deep maroon carpet, marbled fireplace, leather-upholstered furniture, original paintings, ornate tables with carefully place urns and vases, it was a room worthy of the Czar himself.
    “ This is magnificent, Marijke. No wonder the Soviet wanted it for their embassy.”
    “ The house is built in 1852 and 1853. When our government buys it in 1930 it is for the Soviet ambassador to live.”
    “ He must have lived in style, even in the 'dirty thirties.' It would take a lot of servants just to keep it tidy.”
    “ Now our ambassadors don't live this way, but most of formal entertaining is here. I hope I hear you sing here soon, David.”
    She started to walk toward a doorway at the back.
    “Come this way,” she beckoned.
    We walked through into what must have been a formal dining room, with a huge, solid table surrounded by gold brocaded chairs. The brocade was carried into the window drapes, and the chandelier was replicated by heavy, gold lamp standards throughout the room.
    “Mr. Nalishkin's office is to the right. The Ambassador and the Minister Counselor are at the front of the building, but this is nicer here to see the gardens.”
    Marijke indicated one of the chairs near the white-painted double doors. “If you sit here, I go tell Mr. Nalishkin.”
    Marijke knocked, gave me a quick smile, and went on in. I sat quietly for a moment, allowing the silence to settle, and then the full