Free The Spy Who Came in From the Cold by John le Carré Page B

the loose, can we? Not part of the
contract,” he replied.
    They still had twenty minutes to wait. They sat
down at a table and ordered coffee. “And take these things away,”
Kiever added to the waiter, indicating the usedcups, saucers and ashtrays on the table.
    “There’s a trolley coming around,” the
waiter replied.
    “Take them,” Kiever repeated, angry
again. “It’s disgusting, leaving dirty dishes there like that.”
    The waiter just turned and walked away. He didn’t
go near the service counterand
he didn’t order their coffee. Kiever was white, ill with anger. “For
Christ’s sake,”Leamas
muttered, “let it go. Life’s too short.”
    “Cheeky bastard, that’s what he is,”
said Kiever.
    “All right, all right, make a scene; you’ve
chosen a good moment, they’ll neverforget
us here.”
***
    The formalities at the airport at The Hague provided no problem. Kiever seemed
to have recovered from his anxieties. He became jaunty and talkative as theywalked the short distance between the
plane and the customs sheds. The young Dutchofficer gave a perfunctory glance at their luggage and
passports and announced inawkward,
throaty English, “I hope you have a pleasant stay in the Netherlands .”
    “Thanks,” said Kiever, almost too gratefully,
“thanks very much.”
    They walked from the customs shed along the corridor
to the reception hail on the other side of the airport buildings. Kiever led
the way to the main exit,between
the little groups of travelers staring vaguely at kiosk displays of scent,
cameras and fruit. As they pushed their way through the revolving glass door,
Leamaslooked back. Standing at the newspaper kiosk, deep in a copy of the Continental Daily Mail stood a small, froglike figure wearing glasses, an earnest, worried little man. Helooked like a civil servant.
Something like that.
***
    A car was waiting for them in the parking lot, a
Volkswagen with a Dutch registration, driven by a woman who ignored them. She
drove slowly, always stopping if the lights were amber, and Leamas guessed she
had been briefed to drive that wayand
that they were being followed by another car. He watched the side view mirror,
trying to recognize the car but without success. Once he saw a black Peugeot
with a CD number, but when they turned the corner there was only a furniture
van behind them. He knew The Hague quite well from the war, and he tried to work out where they were heading. He
guessed they were traveling northwest toward Scheveningen.Soon they had left the suburbs behind
them and were approaching a colony of villasbordering the dunes along the seafront.
    Here they stopped. The woman got out, leaving them
in the car, and rang thefront
doorbell of a small cream-colored bungalow which stood at the near end of the
row. A wrought-iron sign hung on the porch with the words LE MIRAGE in pale
blue Gothic script. There was a notice in the window which proclaimed that all
the rooms were taken.
    The door was opened by a kindly, plump woman who
looked past the driver toward the car. Her eyes still on the car, she came down
the drive toward them, smiling with pleasure. She reminded Leamas of an old
aunt he’d once had who beat him for wasting string.
    “How nice that you have come,” she
declared; “we are so pleased that youhave
come!”
    They followed her into the bungalow, Kiever
leading the way. The driver got back into the car. Leamas glanced down the road
which they had just traveled; threehundred
yards away a black car, a Flat perhaps, or a Peugeot, had parked. A man in araincoat was getting out.
    Once in the hall, the woman shook Leamas warmly by
the hand. ‘Welcome, welcome to Le Mirage. Did you have a good journey?”
    “Fine,” Leamas replied.
    “Did you fly or come by sea?”
    “We flew,” Kiever said; “a very
smooth flight.” He might have owned the airline.
    “I’ll make your lunch,” she declared,
“a special lunch. I’ll make you something specially good. What shall I