Heirs And Descendants Collection

14. Topiary-1

“He was taller than me, about an inch or so, maybe six foot three. I put him round about sixty-eight years old, but I was out by four years on you, so I"m not great at estimating age. If this was Maudlin"s son, then he would have to have been seventy-two. I could have been wrong, because he looked in good shape. He had a head of thick black hair I thought that it had been dyed, as it looked too perfect to have been natural but it certainly was not a wig.

He had what I would term a "boxer"s" face, a flat forehead with deep eye sockets under a pronounced eyebrow line. He wouldn"t have made a successful pugilist as his prominent nose would have been a distinct weakness, and there was a line across the bridge suggesting that at one time it had been broken and snapped back straight. There was another scar on the left side of his chin about two inches long, his chin was the same as mine, squared and dimpled.

I could detect no more similarities between him and me. He had grey eyes, whereas mine are blue, thin lips where mine are thick. He did have something in common with you, though. He had a dog, a big hairy German Shepherd, which he had brought with him into the hotel. He made it sit obediently while he introduced himself, then he passed the dog to his chauffeur. I thought this a rather odd thing to do it was as if he was showing off the fact that he owned a dog!

Overall I"d say that he was an extremely confident man, someone who was accustomed to being in charge of situations, and had spent more time inside than out. His skin, although tanned, was not wrinkled by sunlight nor weathered by wind and rain or, I must add, by alcohol. There were no red veins on his face, no liver spots on the back of his hands. I would say an administrator, not an operative. That might have accounted for his bad neck which, from time to time, he rubbed vigorously.

An elegantly tailored man, with expensive taste in clothes. One who was accustomed to refinement, but I judged had come across them late in life. It was only a feeling…nothing I could put my finger on. There was a showiness about him, particularly with the silver-topped cane, for which I could not detect a reason. I find the same pretentiousness in those who have made money, rather than inherited it. It"s as though they are aware that they might lose it one day, so they wear it big and loud for everyone to see and notice. With him it was the same. He wore a large, ostentatious diamond and emerald tie stickpin, with matching cuff links and a gaudy Rolex oyster. Oh, and a wedding ring. It all never quite gelled.”

Judith interrupted me. “I"m now wondering who was the more insecure you, or him? I guess you were underdressed for the occasion, as usual…or is it just your latent snobbery bursting through?” She had not been able to resist the sarcasm, but I found it easy to pass over the chance of replying.

“He also had a two-headed eagle badge, with a mounted figure slaying a dragon, in his jacket buttonhole.” I paused, waiting for any more sharp-tongued retort, but none was forthcoming. I carried on.

“There was a note in my room on my arrival stating that he would meet me at seven that night for dinner in the Princess room, and not to worry, as he would recognise me. I was punctual and he was five minutes late, but, as I said, I had noticed him standing in the hotel foyer as I had passed through. It was hard to miss him.

He had been with one other person, who I later found out to be his driver. His command of the English language was obvious and absorbing, although there was something obsequious about him. He continued to use the phrases "my Lord" or "your Lordship," even though I had told him to call me Harry. Eventually it was me that felt inferior, as if the references had intended to be derogatory and not simply oily, or overused politely. He introduced himself as Sergey Andreovich Goganof and, in his words, "a retired public servant."

We spoke about England, music, Michel Jarre, and probably everything under the Moscow moon, but nothing of great significance. He mentioned the tensions in the previous USSR of Chechnya and the Ukraine, and implied that he had a hand in the settlement that had been negotiated. He was the type of person who could talk on any subject and feel comfortable without detailing too much of his knowledge. The only matters of a personal nature he gave away was that his time consuming passion was playing the saxophone. It had been Judo when he was younger, achieving a Sixth Dan Red and White belt, whatever that meant. Later, at the concert, I thought I knew why he had told me that snippet of information!

“This is my daughter, Katherine. I believe you have already met!” He said, somewhat antagonistically when we bumped into Katherine.

We had walked the short distance from the hotel into the square where she was waiting, but there was no sign of a Mr Friedal. The company she was with stood aside, somewhat reverentially, when we appeared. Boris, my nickname for the driver, had been behind us and still had the dog. He was excited when he saw Katherine…the dog, I mean. Whatever Boris was feeling was a mystery to me; a man of closed emotions, Mr Boris.”

I was interrupted again in my disclosure by what I considered an unnecessary remark from Judith, coupled with an observation that carried a sense of apprehension.

“She had that effect on dogs, then no wonder you were attracted. Forgive me, I just couldn"t resist it. On a more serious note, Harry, have you wondered why he would want to give us his daughter? They are the same man, I"m sure of it…the love of dogs and the Judo, they both fit. He"s shown you them because he wants help, and he must want his daughter out as well.”

“Out of what?” I asked.

“The game, Harry. He"s had enough. It"s as though he"s asking to be brought home, collect the money stashed away somewhere by Maudlin, draw a card to pass jail, and land on Park Lane, if you pardon my Monopoly pun. You didn"t happen to ask him about the broken nose and the scar on his chin, did you?”

“No, I didn"t. Should I have done? And, while on the subject, any distinguishing marks elsewhere on his torso?”

“That"s a shame…I never put modesty on your file. Only Korovin was in a car accident early in "81 whilst he was in Lebanon attending a Middle East Studies Group. He lost a girlfriend in it, but got out almost unscathed. Would have been nice to have tied him to that. You did say that he wore a wedding ring, this Sergey of yours?”

I confirmed this and continued describing the rest of the evening, the concert, the occasional recognition of others, either from Sergey or towards him or Katherine, her departure, and eventually his and mine. We had returned to the National and settled into the Nikki bar. He was the type of man who could speak of everything without ever giving a glimpse of himself. He was more interested in me, which again I found disquieting, and he questioned if it was I who had been sent for his interrogation. In fact, I asked Peter that when I returned to London.

"No, Harry, that was not the reason for your encounter," he told me, but did not explain what was. He was built from the same bricks as Sergey, never quite answering a question in an expansive positive way.

Judith asked what were Goganof"s last words on his departure, and I could recall them as if they were spoken to me an hour ago. At the time I put no importance on them, but now she had made a connection to the past, they held significant gravity: I have always felt an affinity towards the English nobility, as though I belong in your House of Lords and not a mere commoner. We should meet again, and discuss our past in depth.

I have always felt an affinity towards the English nobility, as though I belong in your House of Lords and not a mere commoner. We should meet again, and discuss our past in depth.“Is that what you told Peter, Harry, word for word?” An uneasy Judith asked me. When I replied in the affirmative, I did not hear any anxious voice with more questions, but I saw a concerned face looking into an illusionary space between the zig-zagging lines.

“Let me run something by you, Harry. It will probably sound silly but indulge me, for a second. Just suppose Peter did not know of Korovin and used your name and title to flush him out…why do you suppose he would do that?”

“To catch a Russian spy, put a feather in his cap, revenge for what Tanya had passed on to him all good reasons, are they not?”

“Hmm…plausible.” Another drink and more silence, apart from Mirella Freni and a young Luciano Pavarotti as Mimi and Rodolfo in Puccini"s masterpiece.

“I don"t think your summary can be correct, H. That would mean that all my theories are incorrect. Tanya was, after all, working for the communists and supplied useful gems, and Comrade Korovin was not working for us. I"m sticking to my instincts. There must be another reason…but what it is, I"m not sure.”

“Well, I can"t think of one and I"m tired, Judith. It"s not often that you lose a father and a brother within a week; I have a lot to think about apart from all this. I"ve texted my brother Maurice, the next in line for the bank, but have heard nothing back yet. He won"t be eager to return from California permanently, and what he knows of banking can be written on the back of a postage stamp. I"m off to bed so that I"m all bushy-tailed for Trimble in the morning.”

“Don"t speculate on anything tomorrow, Harry. Keep to the point, plain and simple. I"m staying here for a while, to mull things over a bit. I"ve put your things in your room, second door on the right. You"ve got all your own facilities in there, so there"s no need of us crossing paths in the night, is there?”

“Absolutely not, Judith. Got anything to munch on in the fridge, or is it empty and barren?”

“Ha ha. Good night,” she replied. I left the untold story, and I left her there with her red and black book opened, beginning to write.

I had showered and shaved. It was a habit of mine to shave at night as, being fair-haired, my beard was not noticeable in the morning. I had parted company with Judith early, it was a little after ten, but I was truly tired, and nigh-on starving. I knew that if I had anything else to drink I would be ravenous and my stomach would start churning, an affliction the old get, and not even Pavarotti would muffle the sounds. Judith had thoughtfully, and as it turned out fortunately, laid out a dressing gown, I guessed one that had belonged to her late husband. I was beginning to think about why she would have kept it, and whether I should use it for the morning, when she was knocking on my door.