Read Online The spies of warsaw by Alan Furst - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alan Furst
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husky
and rough. She was, he guessed, in her late thirties, and very striking: thick hair, the color called dirty blond, swept low across her forehead, then pinned up in back, and a face that suggested, somehow,
sensuality--a slight downward curve of the nose, full-lipped mouth,
pallid skin, sharp jawline, and deep green eyes, wary and restless, not
quite the night animal, but close. For a formal evening, she wore a
black silk dress with matching jacket, then, more her true style, added
a dark red scarf wound around her throat, pendant earrings with green
gemstones, and a cloud of strong perfume, more spice than sugar. For
a moment she stared at him, her mouth set in a hesitant smile: will this
do? Then said, "I'll be ready right away," led him into the apartment,
and fled down the hall, calling out, "Please introduce yourselves."
On the sofa, a burly man with gray hair curling out of the vee of
his open shirt rose from a nest of newspapers. "Good evening, general," he said with a grin and a meaty handshake. "I'm Maxim." From
the grin, Mercier could tell that Maxim knew he wasn't a general, this
was just his way of being lovable. They stood there for a moment, not
comfortable, then Anna Szarbek came hurrying out of the hallway,
now clutching a small evening purse. "Are we awfully late?" she said.
"No, we'll be fine," Mercier said.
Anna kissed Maxim on the cheek and said something private by
his ear.
"Not too late, general," Maxim said, and winked at Mercier.
Some dish, hey? Don't get any ideas.
He followed her down the stairs--she was a little wobbly in very
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 48
4 8 * T H E S P I E S O F WA R S AW
high heels, sliding one hand along the banister--and out onto the
sidewalk. As Marek held the door open for Anna, he gave Mercier a
conspiratorial lift of the eyebrows. "We're going to the Europejski,"
Mercier said, glancing at his watch.
That gesture was all Marek needed to see--the Buick took off
with a squeal of the tires and went hurtling down the narrow street.
Anna settled herself in the corner of the backseat, bent over to peer
into her purse, brought out a slim tortoiseshell cigarette case, and
offered it to Mercier. On the lid, a laughing Bacchus and two pink
nymphs were wearing only a grapevine. "Do you smoke?" she said.
"I do, but not right now."
She took out a cigarette, and Mercier lit it for her with a steel
lighter. This she needed--took a deep draw, exhaled two long plumes
of smoke from her nose, and sat back in the seat. "Marie didn't tell me
much," she said, referring to Madame Dupin.
"It's very kind of you, to do this on short notice."
"For Saint Marie, anything. She does favors for everybody, so . . ."
"It's a dinner given by the Polish General Staff for a delegation
from the Renault company; they've come in from Paris. Then, after
that, a nightclub."
"A nightclub?"
"Yes, the Adria."
"Very fancy. I've never been there."
Mercier's expression said that it was what it was. "A floor show,
likely dancing."
Her nod was grim, but determined--she would handle anything
that came her way. "So, you're at the embassy."
"I am. The military attache."
"Yes, that's what Marie said." She knew what military attaches
did--at least some secret intelligence work--but apparently took it
for an inevitable part of life in foreign service.
"A lot of paperwork is what it amounts to. Sometimes attendance
at field maneuvers. And, as you would imagine, endless meetings." She
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 49
H OT E L E U RO P E J S K I * 4 9
didn't comment, so he said, "Have you always lived here, in Warsaw?"
Marek was driving fast, the Buick's big engine a heavy purr. They
came up close to a trolley and swung boldly around it, skidding on the
track.
"No, I've been based here for, oh, maybe a year and a half, and I
spend a lot of time traveling, mostly down south, and up to Gdansk.
I'm a lawyer with the
and rough. She was, he guessed, in her late thirties, and very striking: thick hair, the color called dirty blond, swept low across her forehead, then pinned up in back, and a face that suggested, somehow,
sensuality--a slight downward curve of the nose, full-lipped mouth,
pallid skin, sharp jawline, and deep green eyes, wary and restless, not
quite the night animal, but close. For a formal evening, she wore a
black silk dress with matching jacket, then, more her true style, added
a dark red scarf wound around her throat, pendant earrings with green
gemstones, and a cloud of strong perfume, more spice than sugar. For
a moment she stared at him, her mouth set in a hesitant smile: will this
do? Then said, "I'll be ready right away," led him into the apartment,
and fled down the hall, calling out, "Please introduce yourselves."
On the sofa, a burly man with gray hair curling out of the vee of
his open shirt rose from a nest of newspapers. "Good evening, general," he said with a grin and a meaty handshake. "I'm Maxim." From
the grin, Mercier could tell that Maxim knew he wasn't a general, this
was just his way of being lovable. They stood there for a moment, not
comfortable, then Anna Szarbek came hurrying out of the hallway,
now clutching a small evening purse. "Are we awfully late?" she said.
"No, we'll be fine," Mercier said.
Anna kissed Maxim on the cheek and said something private by
his ear.
"Not too late, general," Maxim said, and winked at Mercier.
Some dish, hey? Don't get any ideas.
He followed her down the stairs--she was a little wobbly in very
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 48
4 8 * T H E S P I E S O F WA R S AW
high heels, sliding one hand along the banister--and out onto the
sidewalk. As Marek held the door open for Anna, he gave Mercier a
conspiratorial lift of the eyebrows. "We're going to the Europejski,"
Mercier said, glancing at his watch.
That gesture was all Marek needed to see--the Buick took off
with a squeal of the tires and went hurtling down the narrow street.
Anna settled herself in the corner of the backseat, bent over to peer
into her purse, brought out a slim tortoiseshell cigarette case, and
offered it to Mercier. On the lid, a laughing Bacchus and two pink
nymphs were wearing only a grapevine. "Do you smoke?" she said.
"I do, but not right now."
She took out a cigarette, and Mercier lit it for her with a steel
lighter. This she needed--took a deep draw, exhaled two long plumes
of smoke from her nose, and sat back in the seat. "Marie didn't tell me
much," she said, referring to Madame Dupin.
"It's very kind of you, to do this on short notice."
"For Saint Marie, anything. She does favors for everybody, so . . ."
"It's a dinner given by the Polish General Staff for a delegation
from the Renault company; they've come in from Paris. Then, after
that, a nightclub."
"A nightclub?"
"Yes, the Adria."
"Very fancy. I've never been there."
Mercier's expression said that it was what it was. "A floor show,
likely dancing."
Her nod was grim, but determined--she would handle anything
that came her way. "So, you're at the embassy."
"I am. The military attache."
"Yes, that's what Marie said." She knew what military attaches
did--at least some secret intelligence work--but apparently took it
for an inevitable part of life in foreign service.
"A lot of paperwork is what it amounts to. Sometimes attendance
at field maneuvers. And, as you would imagine, endless meetings." She
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 49
H OT E L E U RO P E J S K I * 4 9
didn't comment, so he said, "Have you always lived here, in Warsaw?"
Marek was driving fast, the Buick's big engine a heavy purr. They
came up close to a trolley and swung boldly around it, skidding on the
track.
"No, I've been based here for, oh, maybe a year and a half, and I
spend a lot of time traveling, mostly down south, and up to Gdansk.
I'm a lawyer with the
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