up,
shakily. This time there was a knock followed by a familiar voice.
‘Tom, are you in there?’ It was Frederick.
‘Coming!’ Tom managed to reply, his brain and body finally
working as one.
He opened the door to see a concerned face.
‘This is the second time today that I thought I’d lost you,’
Frederick smiled.
‘Sorry, I must have dozed off. What time is it?’
‘A quarter past eight. I’ve booked a table for us at nine,
so you’ve got enough time to have a shower, if you want.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
‘Okay, I’ll come back for you in half an hour. I need to
have a word with Deiter, anyway.’ Frederick closed the door behind him.
Tom studied his face in the bathroom mirror; he was looking
all of his 36 years. Despite his nap, and having slept on the plane, he was
pale and dark circles had appeared under his eyes. He stripped off and let the
steaming hot shower revive him.
Frederick, as punctual as ever, rang the doorbell just as
Tom finished dressing. Noticing what Frederick had on earlier, Tom had chosen
to wear dark trousers with a Dolce & Gabbana blazer and matching tie,
mentally tipping his hat to his brother’s impeccable dress sense.
‘Much better, my dear boy,’ said Frederick, and made a show
of inspecting him.
‘Thanks, I feel almost human again,’ Tom replied.
‘Good, because the restaurant I’m taking you to only caters
for humans. Although there are other restaurants I know that are less
particular, if you prefer?’
‘It’s your call,’ replied Tom laughing. ‘I’m in your hands.’
They were driven the short distance into the centre of
Geneva in the back of Frederick’s Mercedes. His driver, Louis, seemed to know
all the short-cuts to avoid any traffic hold-ups and they arrived at the
entrance to the Hotel d’Angleterre in less than fifteen minutes.
The hotel doorman, dressed in a dark green tailcoat and top
hat, was standing by the side of the car before it had time to come to a full
stop.
‘Good evening, Herr Volker. It’s very nice to see you
again,’ he said, opening the door on Frederick’s side. Tom waited patiently
while he did the same for him.
‘And this is a colleague of mine, Professor Halligan. You’ll
probably be seeing a lot of him, as long as the food is up to standard,’
Frederick chided the doorman, who was obviously used to the banter.
‘I spoke with the head chef personally this morning, who
told me that he was awaiting a delivery of the finest lobsters in the whole of
Switzerland,’ retorted the doorman.
‘On your head be it! Lobster it is!’ Frederick pressed some
money into the doorman’s hand as he held the door to the hotel open.
How did he do that with such fluidity? Tom mused to himself.
They made their way through the ornate reception, with its
stuccoed ceilings and gilt detailing, and to the Windows restaurant, which was
located at the front of the hotel overlooking Lake Geneva.
The Maître d' was waiting to greet them.
‘Bonsoir, Herr Volker, it’s a pleasure to see you again,’ he
beamed, as they approached him.
‘Salut, Pierre,’ Frederick used the informal greeting
between friends.
‘Your usual table, Sir?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, but led
them to a table by the window.
‘Thank you, Pierre. I’d like to introduce you to Professor
Halligan, who’s just joined us from America,’ Frederick said, as they were
being seated.
Pierre nodded cordially at Tom and handed him the menu.
‘A little bird told me that you have some particularly fine
lobster on the menu this evening,’ Frederick said slyly.
‘You are as well-informed, as usual, Herr Volker. If you’ll
just excuse me for a moment...’
Pierre backed away from their table, turned and marched
through a door at the far end of the restaurant, returning seconds later with a
large platter covered with a silver cloche. He removed the lid and presented
them with two of the biggest lobsters Tom had ever seen. Their claws were tied
with
shakily. This time there was a knock followed by a familiar voice.
‘Tom, are you in there?’ It was Frederick.
‘Coming!’ Tom managed to reply, his brain and body finally
working as one.
He opened the door to see a concerned face.
‘This is the second time today that I thought I’d lost you,’
Frederick smiled.
‘Sorry, I must have dozed off. What time is it?’
‘A quarter past eight. I’ve booked a table for us at nine,
so you’ve got enough time to have a shower, if you want.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
‘Okay, I’ll come back for you in half an hour. I need to
have a word with Deiter, anyway.’ Frederick closed the door behind him.
Tom studied his face in the bathroom mirror; he was looking
all of his 36 years. Despite his nap, and having slept on the plane, he was
pale and dark circles had appeared under his eyes. He stripped off and let the
steaming hot shower revive him.
Frederick, as punctual as ever, rang the doorbell just as
Tom finished dressing. Noticing what Frederick had on earlier, Tom had chosen
to wear dark trousers with a Dolce & Gabbana blazer and matching tie,
mentally tipping his hat to his brother’s impeccable dress sense.
‘Much better, my dear boy,’ said Frederick, and made a show
of inspecting him.
‘Thanks, I feel almost human again,’ Tom replied.
‘Good, because the restaurant I’m taking you to only caters
for humans. Although there are other restaurants I know that are less
particular, if you prefer?’
‘It’s your call,’ replied Tom laughing. ‘I’m in your hands.’
They were driven the short distance into the centre of
Geneva in the back of Frederick’s Mercedes. His driver, Louis, seemed to know
all the short-cuts to avoid any traffic hold-ups and they arrived at the
entrance to the Hotel d’Angleterre in less than fifteen minutes.
The hotel doorman, dressed in a dark green tailcoat and top
hat, was standing by the side of the car before it had time to come to a full
stop.
‘Good evening, Herr Volker. It’s very nice to see you
again,’ he said, opening the door on Frederick’s side. Tom waited patiently
while he did the same for him.
‘And this is a colleague of mine, Professor Halligan. You’ll
probably be seeing a lot of him, as long as the food is up to standard,’
Frederick chided the doorman, who was obviously used to the banter.
‘I spoke with the head chef personally this morning, who
told me that he was awaiting a delivery of the finest lobsters in the whole of
Switzerland,’ retorted the doorman.
‘On your head be it! Lobster it is!’ Frederick pressed some
money into the doorman’s hand as he held the door to the hotel open.
How did he do that with such fluidity? Tom mused to himself.
They made their way through the ornate reception, with its
stuccoed ceilings and gilt detailing, and to the Windows restaurant, which was
located at the front of the hotel overlooking Lake Geneva.
The Maître d' was waiting to greet them.
‘Bonsoir, Herr Volker, it’s a pleasure to see you again,’ he
beamed, as they approached him.
‘Salut, Pierre,’ Frederick used the informal greeting
between friends.
‘Your usual table, Sir?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, but led
them to a table by the window.
‘Thank you, Pierre. I’d like to introduce you to Professor
Halligan, who’s just joined us from America,’ Frederick said, as they were
being seated.
Pierre nodded cordially at Tom and handed him the menu.
‘A little bird told me that you have some particularly fine
lobster on the menu this evening,’ Frederick said slyly.
‘You are as well-informed, as usual, Herr Volker. If you’ll
just excuse me for a moment...’
Pierre backed away from their table, turned and marched
through a door at the far end of the restaurant, returning seconds later with a
large platter covered with a silver cloche. He removed the lid and presented
them with two of the biggest lobsters Tom had ever seen. Their claws were tied
with
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