Cut to the Chase. Ray CW Scott
Читать онлайн книгу.
may possibly feel under an obligation to him tomorrow for obtaining what could be termed today’s bargain. You could probably feel guilt about his starving children that his facial expression and body language conveys to you and be a softer target should your paths cross tomorrow.’
That made sense, Wallace had no doubt that the lines of any preliminary skirmish would be different tomorrow. He resolved to avoid that particular shop on the way back to the hotel.
They had arranged to meet for dinner at the hotel, Wallace was determined – Kalim or no Kalim – that he would not stir from the security of the building after sunset, nor would he leave it subsequently until it was time to leave for the flight at midday the next day. Wallace had already telephoned Major Lincoln and told him that he wanted an embassy car to take him to the airport the next day, he was not going to travel by cab – maybe he had been guilty of watching too many spy thrillers on television, but he still feared the possibility of being kidnapped. Those two thugs had been a trifle too tenacious for his liking. There had been a short, sharp argument, but Lincoln had finally grudgingly agreed to send one of his minions.
Kalim rose to his feet as Wallace entered the dining room and the waiter ushered him to the table.
‘Would you join me in an aperitif?’ he asked, and waved to the waiter before Wallace had a chance to reply. He seemed to be studying Wallace closely as they sipped their drinks.
‘You are English, are you not?’ Kalim enquired.
‘No, Australian,’ Wallace answered.
‘My apologies, I thought I detected a trace of an English accent, southern counties to be precise.’
Wallace told him that he was right, after some hesitation. He had been born near London and his parents had left England when Wallace was very young. Accents are funny things. Wallace had picked up a broad Australian accent while at school, mainly due to peer pressure, which had slowly tempered over the years through to early teens, when it had slowly disappeared. His parents spoke what could be best described as an upper class English accent, with a trace of the southern inflexion peculiar to the Home Counties. As the years had passed during secondary school years this accent had gradually re-asserted itself and become more and more part of Wallace until there had been many times he was mistaken for a recent English immigrant.
That he was still a “Pom” and would be one for evermore was made inevitable during school and early commercial years. Whenever England made an Ashes tour he was subjected to incessant leg pulling, particularly when England lost a wicket, notwithstanding that his instinct was to support Australia. He still had a British passport, like many who were born in the United Kingdom, mainly because if he travelled to London either for work or to see relatives, he didn’t want to have to go through as an alien and join a long queue. As a British subject a British or European Union passport enabled one to walk straight through Customs. Wallace also had an Australian passport, which he was using on this trip.
Kalim was an entertaining companion, he laughed heartily when Wallace told him of the joke that had misfired at Singapore. He discovered that Kalim was a Muslim, with a name like Kalim that didn’t cause a surprise, and that he had been born on an island off Sumatra. Wallace told him something of his own background and hopes.
‘A circuit speaker,’ Kalim pursed his lips. ‘Is there enough scope in that to keep going?’
‘Not entirely,’ Wallace shook his head. ‘Enough to keep me and a few other circuit speakers going, but it is nothing like it is in the USA Population is the key there, there are many large cities in the USA that support many large companies, but in Australia we only have about five large population centres. In addition, the US being what it is, they like motivational speakers.’
‘You are going to the United States in the near future?’
‘No, more likely England, I am going there in a few months,’ Wallace replied. ‘There aren’t enough speaking engagements there to keep the wolf from the door…’ he hesitated wondering if Kalim knew the connotations of that figure of speech, but Kalim nodded understandingly ‘…however I have enough contacts in insurance from my time in the industry in Australia. I’ve never had problems obtaining temporary work – companies always have room for people to process claims, especially motor claims and water damage claims if there is a sudden storm that causes widespread damage.’
‘What does your wife think of this – are you married?’
‘No, not any longer, we have just had the divorce process I’m afraid.’
‘Oh I’m sorry to hear that. What happened…Oh I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.’
‘That’s all right, there’s no secret about it. Elsie and I found we didn’t get on, and the parting was somewhat unpleasant.’
‘You are divorced now?’
‘Just,’ Wallace replied. ‘The process was finalised a few weeks back, after we’d sorted out the financial side of it.’
‘So you are living separately?’
‘Oh for sure,’ Wallace said. ‘She still lives in our unit in a bay side suburb, I moved out.’
‘Ah, these things happen,’ Kalim shook his head sadly. ‘But maybe it is for the best, when all breaks down.’
He poured some wine into Wallace’s glass.
‘What is the procedure in Western societies when divorces take place?’ Kalim asked as he put the bottle down. ‘This is something that is rare in our society. Does the wife retain the husband’s name or revert to her former name?’
‘It varies,’ Wallace answered. ‘But Elsie still uses her married name, calls herself Elsie Wallace.’
‘Interesting,’ Kalim said. ‘Tell me, when are you going to England?’
‘In a few months,’ Wallace replied.
‘Oh yes. What part?’
‘Mainly London and the south east counties, I still have friends and relatives.’
‘You have many relatives there?’
‘No, not many, an uncle and cousin in Surrey and a good friend in the Midlands,’ Wallace said. ‘I usually stay with them when I am there.’
‘You have nothing anywhere else?’
‘Maybe Manchester, insurance industry contacts, but nowhere else.’
That wasn’t entirely true, but suddenly Wallace began to feel uneasy about telling Kalim too much, after all, he hardly knew the man and after recent experiences perhaps it was unwise to say too much. Maybe he had said too much already.
‘Interesting, I may be in England myself some time this year, mainly London, you say? Did you say the Midlands?’
‘I’d say so, yes,’ Wallace had already said as much so he wasn’t giving any more away.
They sat and talked for hours, it was nearly ten o’clock when they moved into the bar and sat at another table. Wallace was beginning to feel light headed when Kalim looked at his watch, checked it with the clock over the bar and then announced that he would have to go as he had to be up early in the morning.
They slowly made their way to the lifts and went up to their floor. They solemnly shook hands in the corridor, tentatively agreed to see each other in the dining room for breakfast and then parted.
Wallace entered his room cautiously, flinging the door open and switching on the light and staying on the threshold, he even peered through the crack in the door in case anyone was lurking behind it. He half expected to see brawny Indonesian secret policemen lurking behind every item of furniture but the room was empty and, so far as he could see, nobody had been in the room.
He had previously photographed all the items on the dressing table top with the digital camera he had just purchased but nothing appeared to have been moved. Maybe Lincoln was right, once the computer