Читаем The prodigal spy полностью

“I don’t know. Why did my father send you?”

“Are you trying to scare me? He just wants to see you.”

“Secretly.” He looked at her. “Do you want to back out?”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe. I’ve never done this before.” He looked up at the modern building with the plaque of the Czech lion rampant bolted into the brick, as official as a jail. “It’s still a police state. We have to be careful.”

She shrugged. “Tell you what, then. You do all the talking. I’ll just think about my engagement trip. Budapest, for God’s sake.”

Nick smiled. “It’s nice. Lots of thermal baths. They told me so at Cook’s.”

“You went to Cook’s?”

“I want it all on paper. Tickets. Reservations.”

“Like an alibi.”

“Yes,” he said, looking at her. “Like an alibi.”

But in fact the process was no more sinister than getting a driver’s license. There were guards and applications to fill out and pamphlets about currency restrictions. On the walls, a portrait of a jowly man Nick assumed to be Husak. A few old people in line arguing in a language as remote as Chinese. Then forms were stamped and routed to out boxes, an iron curtain of paper. The visas would be good for three weeks, and they were required to exchange dollars for the whole period.

“But we’ll only be there a few days,” Nick said.

“Those are the currency regulations,” the woman said tonelessly. “You will perhaps find many things to buy.” An explanation from Oz, utterly without irony.

“When will they be ready?”

“Come back in three days. It’s possible.”

“We’re anxious to start.”

“Yes,” the woman said, shuffling papers. “All the world wants to go to Prague.”

Nick wondered if this was an office joke, but her face was impassive, already looking at the next person in line.

They paid the extra five pounds for the car and took the early hovercraft, skimming across the Channel to Ostend. They made good time through the flat, sprouting landscape, but by afternoon the mountains slowed them, and it was late when they finally reached Bern, as neat and atmospheric as a stage set. They found a pension on one of the arcaded streets not far from the bear pit, and after some soup and Alsatian wine in the empty dining room, went up to bed. Molly had said little during the drive but now began to unwind, turning playful from the wine.

“So how do we do this?” she said, pointing to the bed. “I’ve never been to bed with a man before. To sleep, I mean.”

“Pick a side.”

“Like brother and sister.” She threw a flannel nightgown on the bed and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she came back, toothbrush still in her mouth, Nick had already stripped to his shorts.

“Briefs. I knew it. We used to take bets-you know, in school. Briefs or boxers, I knew you’d be briefs.” She watched as he turned back the covers. “Do you sleep in them?”

“Tonight I do.”

“Don’t worry. I’m too tired to look.”

“Is that really what girls talk about?” he said, getting into bed.

“Of course. What do boys talk about?”

“Other things.”

“I’ll bet.”

She went into the bathroom to rinse, then came back and put on the nightgown, slipping the clothes off underneath. Nick sat in the bed, blanket pulled up to his chest, watching her.

“How do you do that?”

“Hooks. Trick of the trade,” she said, pulling in her arms and struggling with her shirt. “Ta-da.” The shirt fell to the floor, then, after a few minutes of wriggling, the bra. She held it up for him, dancing a little. “See?”

“If you want to put on a show, take my advice and don’t wear flannel.”

“Serves you right,” she said, sinking into the chair, propping her feet on the bed.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“In a minute.”

“Well,” he said, snapping off his light but still sitting up, looking at her.

“This would be my mother’s idea of a perfect honeymoon.”

He watched her for a minute, then said, “Let’s not complicate things.”

She moved to the bed. “No.”

“Turn off the light and go to sleep.”

“Just like that.”

“Try it,” he said, rolling away from her on his side.

She got into bed quickly, pulling the covers up. “Want to hear something funny? I feel-I don’t know. Embarrassed. It’s like we’re married or something. Do you snore?”

“No,” he said, still on his side.

“How do you know?”

“Will you go to sleep, please? We want to make Vienna tomorrow.”

“It’s farther than you think.”

“Then we’ll have to start early. Go to sleep.”

She turned out the light and was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “Another day or two won’t make any difference, you know. I mean, he’s waited this long.”

Nick turned over, but there was no light to catch her face, so that his words seemed spoken to the darkness. “So have I.”