“A strange set-up indeed, Hugo.”
We stopped speaking for a moment as we both gazed out onto the noisy fountain, neither of us troubled by the noise, simply fascinated by it. Fraser followed our stare, rising from where he sat and making his way towards the pond.
“Are there fish in the pond?” he asked as he was walking down a short flight of steps into the garden.
“As long as the herons haven"t stolen any.”
I returned the conversation to Operation Donor. “I"m sorry to load you with Russian names, Hugo, but I have no choice. Did you come across the name Nikita Sergeyovitch Kudashov at all? I have the names written down on some notes, if my Russian pronunciation is too rustic for you.”
He waved away my suggestion to withdraw some papers from the document folder that rested against the si
