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Vicky, watching like a sniper from the kitchen window, assumed if she saw him remove the case from the rear seat that he had had a passenger.
The god machine scenes from the second storey rar full#
(A full year of marital hell-heaven had passed before he had learned always to put his briefcase beside him on the front seat of the car when going home from the office.
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It dawned on him that his years with Vicky had conditioned his very thought processes.
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The Pack Horse was a pub he had used when at university and he had vague memories of having taken girls there - around the time he met Vicky - but surely Andrea had not been one of them. Hutchman smiled back at her as the ground seemed to shift below his feet. “Of course, we only had one drink there.” She smiled reproachfully. Did you know the Pack Horse has been demolished to make room for a motorway?” “I guess it does,” he said, wondering what she was talking about. My God, this takes me back more years than I care to remember.” Did the slinky-slovenly gait, that chalky and pouting lower lip, suggest something to their minds? The archetypal woman of the streets, composite of Dietrich and Signoret and Hayworth? He gave up the attempted analysis as she reached his table, sat down, and shrugged off her coat without speaking. He asked himself what it was about her which caused the male drinkers to fall silent as she passed by. Hutchman, who had arrived a little early, watched as she walked the length of the room. The first irrevocable step had been taken.Īndrea Knight came slowly into the bar, her black hair caught inside the collar of her suede coat, a sling-type handbag almost trailing on the floor. Until that moment he had retained the option of backing out and returning to sane, normal life. It was not until he was almost back in Crymchurch again that he appreciated the significance of having consigned the antibomb specification to Her Majesty’s mails. On the west side of Aldershot he swung south from the Bath road and made the shorter trip to Salisbury where he mailed a sheaf of envelopes. There was something faintly disturbing about the fact that his modified plan for the journey, which had not been considered until a moment ago, seemed better than one he had thought about for days but there was no denying that it would be wise to ensure a smooth trip for at least one envelope to Moscow. As he walked back to the car Hutchman decided that posting the first envelopes in a single batch in one town could be less informative to an investigator than an elaborate itinerary. That plan would have to be modified for a start.
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He gazed blankly at the unfamiliar scene for a second before realizing that he was in Aldershot at the beginning of a grand tour of the southern counties. “See you at eight o’clock.” He set the phone down and stepped out of the confines of the kiosk into the noonday bustle feeling bewildered, as if he had swallowed several strong gins on an empty stomach.