Kiernan said: "Thank you."
He went out of the restaurant; got his hat from the cloakroom. He turned into Piccadilly; began to walk eastwards.
Now his mind was on Nielecki. Nielecki, thought Kiernan, was an interesting proposition. And he had brains. He thought it was a lucky stroke that Nielecki had come into the bar at the Cockatoo and seen him. He thought that the fifty pounds he'd given to the Pole was cheap.
And there was the matter of Kospovic. Kiernan thought that something ought to be done about Kospovic. He thought about Quayle. He wondered whether it would be in the picture for him to go and see Quayle and tell him about Kospovic. Quayle, he thought, would appreciate the gesture, because Quayle must be interested in Kospovic. He might do that— after he'd seen Kospovic. Or he mi
