Free The Tightrope Men / The Enemy by Desmond Bagley Page A

Denison found he had a scotch on the rocks, a desecration of good malt. He did not feel like making a fuss about it so he raised his glass. ‘Skal!’ He sipped the whisky and reflected that this was the first real drink he had had since his transformation into Meyrick.
    The familiar taste bit at his tongue and somehow released a wave of memories which washed through him tumultuously, tantalizingly close to the surface of his mind. And with the memories, unrealized though they were, came the fear and the terror which set his heart thumping in his chest. Hastily he set down the glass, knowing he was close to panic.
    Diana Hansen looked at his shaking fingers. ‘What’s the matter, Harry?’
    Denison covered up. ‘I don’t think a drink is a good idea, after all. I’ve just remembered I’m stuffed full of pills.’ He managed a smile. ‘If you shook me I’d rattle. I don’t think they’d mix with alcohol.’
    She put down her glass. Then let’s have dinner before the Kidders catch up with us.’ She stood up and took herhandbag from the table. Denison arose and they moved towards the entrance, but then she turned her head and murmured, Too late, I’m afraid.’
    Kidder was also standing up, his big body blocking the way. ‘Hey, Lucy, look who’s here. It’s Diana and Harry.’
    ‘Hallo, Jack,’ said Denison. ‘Had a good day?’
    ‘We’ve been up to Holmenkollen; you know - the big ski-jump you can see from all over the city. It’s quite a thing when you get up to it close. Can you imagine, it’s only used once a year?’
    ‘I can’t imagine,’ said Denison blandly.
    Lucy Kidder said, ‘And we went to the Henie-Onstad Art Centre, too.’
    ‘Yeah, modern art,’ said Kidder disparagingly. ‘Harry, can you make any sense out of Jackson Pollock?’
    ‘Not much,’ said Denison.
    Kidder turned on his wife. ‘Anyway, why the hell do we have to come to Norway to see an American artist?’
    ‘But he’s internationally famous, Jack. Aren’t you proud of that?’
    ‘I guess so,’ he said gloomily. ‘But the locals aren’t much better. Take the guy with the name like a breakfast food.’ Everyone looked at Kidder with blank faces and he snapped his fingers impatiently. ‘You know who I mean - the local Scowegian we saw yesterday.’
    Lucy Kidder sighed. ‘Edvard Munch,’ she said resignedly.
    ‘That’s the guy. Too gloomy for me even if you can see the people in his pictures,’ said Kidder.
    Diana cut in quickly. ‘Harry’s not been feeling too well lately. I’m taking him in to an early dinner and sending him right to bed.’
    ‘Gee, I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Kidder. He sounded sincere.
    ‘There’s a lot of this two-day flu about,’ said his wife. ‘And it can be nasty while it lasts. You look after yourself - hear?’
    ‘I don’t think it’s too serious,’ said Denison.
    ‘But we’d better go in to dinner,’ said Diana. ‘Harry hasn’t eaten a thing all day.’
    ‘Sure,’ said Kidder, standing aside. ‘I hope you feel better real soon. You look after him, Diana.’
    Over dinner they talked in generalities, much to Denison’s relief, and he was able to hold his own without much effort. There was not a single thing to trouble him until the coffee was served and that startling thought about the possible relationship between Diana and Meyrick came into his head. He looked at her speculatively and wondered what to do. For all he knew, Meyrick was an old ram.
    He held the smile on his face and stirred his coffee mechanically. A waiter came to the table. ‘Mrs Hansen?’
    Diana looked up. ‘Yes.’
    ‘A telephone call.’
    ‘Thank you.’ She looked at Denison apologetically. ‘I told someone I’d be here. Do you mind?’
    ‘Not at all.’ She stood up and left the restaurant, going into the lobby. He watched her until she was out of sight and then stopped stirring his coffee and put the spoon in the saucer with a clink. Thoughtfully he looked at the handbag on the