Free Dead Line by Stella Rimington Page B

one person to whom Saul had confided all his business secrets, she’d had a lot to tell; she’d seen Mr Teitelbaum once a week for almost three months.
    Now as she reached Piccadilly and walked east towards Haymarket and the theatre, she felt she deserved a treat. It was lovely to be here in London. After all the experiences of her first year in Israel she’d badly needed a rest, and after only a week she felt her energy was coming back.
    The Stoppard play was tremendous fun - fast-paced, witty and verbally ingenious. All that was missing was someone to share it with; looking around the audience, Hannah felt surrounded by couples.
    At the interval she worked her way through the scrum at the bar to buy a glass of wine, which she carried carefully to the safety of a corner. She was just about to take a sip when her arm was knocked sharply and her glass went flying, landing with a small pirouette on the carpet.
    ‘I am so sorry.’
    Hannah turned to find a man behind her looking upset. He was fortyish, tall, with floppy black hair, dressed in a black suit and a charcoal turtleneck. Reaching down, he picked up her glass, which was miraculously unbroken. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said again.
    ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Hannah. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
    ‘But of course it does,’ the man insisted. ‘I’ll get you another.’
    ‘Oh please don’t—’ Hannah started to protest, but he was already halfway to the bar.
    Despite the crush he was back in a minute, bearing a new glass. This one had bubbles. ‘I hope you like champagne,’ he said, handing the glass to Hannah with a small bow.
    She felt embarrassed. ‘It’s very good of you,’ she said, taking a sip.
    ‘The least I could do.’
    Hannah was slightly discomfited to find that he didn’t move away but stayed standing beside her. She said, ‘You’ve been very kind. But please don’t let me keep you from your friends.’
    He smiled. ‘I’m here on my own.’ He spoke fluent English, but with a very slight accent that she couldn’t place.
    ‘So am I,’ said Hannah.
    ‘Where do you live?’
    ‘Tel Aviv.’
    ‘No,’ he said with disbelief. ‘You are Israeli? So am I.’
    ‘Well, I’m American actually. But I moved to Israel last year.’
    ‘How interesting,’ he said. ‘You have reversed the trend. Half of my generation seems to be emigrating to the States.’
    They continued talking, rapidly discovering several mutual acquaintances in the small world of Israeli society. Hannah was quite disappointed when the bell rang for the start of the second act.
    ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘What a pity. I should introduce myself. My name is Danny Kollek. I work at our embassy here in London.’
    ‘Hannah Gold.’ They shook hands.
    ‘I wonder,’ said Kollek hesitantly.
    ‘Yes?’ said Hannah, noticing the bar was almost empty now.
    ‘Would you like to have supper with me after the play?’
    Hannah had been thinking of taking a taxi back to David’s house and having an early night. But she liked this man, and was flattered to be the object of attention for a change. Why not take advantage of it?’
    ‘I’d like that very much,’ she said at last.
    Again there was the smile - even more than his good looks it was this that made the man appealing. ‘I’ll meet you in front then,’ he said, as the last bell rang before the second act.
    When the play ended, Hannah half-expected to find that Danny had disappeared; why would someone his age want to take a woman half as old again out for dinner? So she was pleasantly surprised to find him standing on the edge of the pavement, looking out for her.
    They went to a restaurant in St James’s - a large, modern place with a high ceiling, bright pastel columns and mirrors on the walls. Danny proved an easy conversationalist: amusing, entertaining, yet willing to talk about serious things. And to listen - he seemed to take a real interest in what Hannah had to say, which after thirty years of Saul was a