The older man chuckled and said “Congratulations” before he continued on.
“I have an idea,” she said in Ivan’s ear. “Let’s take the train together to seek my grandfather’s approval and counsel.”
“You want me to leave London?”
“Just for a day or so. What is going to happen won’t be until the command performance, right? We have a little time.”
“It’s Saturday night. We have until Thursday.”
“Very well. Grandfather is terribly busy on Sundays, of course, but I’m sure we’ll be able to come back to London on Monday.”
“What about the cost of the train?” He glanced up at the darkening sky. Though it was only late afternoon, night came early at this time of year.
“I have two weeks’ pay.”
“I have my pay too, but we need lodgings.”
“We’ll figure it out with his help. He’s a very smart man.”
“I haven’t had anyone but Boris to counsel me in years,” Ivan admitted. “I’m not used to asking anyone for help.”
“This is what Grandfather does,” Alecia said. “We can trust him.”
He nodded. “Then let’s go. I’m sure the conductor will sell me a ticket and you already have yours.”
They boarded the train as soon as it emptied, and found third-class seats. In less than two hours, they’d arrive in her village.
* * *
It wasn’t until Sunday night that Alecia had enough of her grandfather’s attention to share their news and ask for counsel. He’d been at his church until late Saturday night, and she’d had to settle them into the house. Then he was up before they rose, she asleep in her room and Ivan in Sadie’s, to return for Sunday services. Now they were cozy in her grandfather’s study, still lit by gaslight and the fireplace. Candles burned on the mantel, just like always, when he relaxed at night. Grandfather and Ivan had brandy in snifters, and were seated in armchairs before the fire. They both wore heavy sweaters that Alecia had knitted. Her grandfather always wore his until they were in tatters. She’d discovered he’d never worn his last two Christmas sweaters, which meant Ivan could have one.
She leaned against the wall, seated on a footstool she’d used since she was a child.
Ivan finished his story of the bomb plot. “So you see, sir, lives are at risk.”
“I’m not sure how much of this Mr. Eyre understands,” her grandfather said, “from what you are saying. It sounds to me that the hotel is completely unprepared for this disaster.”
“He doesn’t know he’s let a wolf into his henhouse, in the shape of Anatoly Smirnov. I wonder if Mr. Marvin attacked Alecia in order to rid them of me, once I’d refused to bring in the bomb myself.”
“Why would Mr. Marvin be involved? I understand he’s a bad man after what he did to my poor girl.”
“Ideology?” Ivan said. “He’d been in Russia before the war.”
Her grandfather shook his head sadly. “Perhaps. The first priority is to stop the bomb from going off. The second is to figure out who the conspirators are.”
Ivan stared into his snifter. “How can we do anything about the plot now, without having my sister arrested?”
“Son.” Grandfather spoke in his most serious voice. “If you do not take action, you are as much a murderer as your sister will be. You must protect her immortal soul as well as your own.”
“Even if she has to go to prison? Maybe be sent away from England?”
“Even so.” Her grandfather nodded.
“If I go straight to the police, it is over for my sister. There must still be some way to save her and stop the situation from moving forward.”
“You know your sister has a connection to Richard,” Alecia said. “Which of them is the instigator?”
“I need to get back into that hotel,” Ivan said.
“Go to Mr. Eyre and be completely honest,” her grandfather advised. “Meanwhile, Alecia needs to find her sister. I am equally troubled by the lack of communication. She did telephone me last Sunday night as we agreed, but she hasn’t rung today.”
Alecia rubbed her twitchy right eye. “I hope she isn’t in some kind of trouble.”
Ivan drained his glass. “I’ll go to Mr. Eyre tomorrow and tell him everything I know.”
Alecia sat up straighter as an idea struck her. “I’ll attempt to see Sybil and tell her about Richard seeing your sister. Maybe that will stir something up.”
“Don’t go near her if Mr. Marvin is nearby,” her grandfather said.
“I won’t. But I might help by seeing her.”
“I agree,” Ivan said. “But, sir, there is one more topic of discussion. I wonder if I could have a private word?”
* * *
“Will you take this note to Mrs. Marvin, please?” Alecia said on Monday morning, handing her letter to a bellboy. Ivan stood beside her, surveying the Grand Russe’s Grand Hall automatically, a habit he’d developed during his employment. “Make sure she opens it?”
The boy, no more than fourteen, nodded.
“You’ll be in the Coffee Room?” Ivan asked. He didn’t want to lose her the way she’d lost her sister. “And you won’t leave the hotel without me?”
“Yes, I’ll wait for Sybil, or you, or both,” Alecia promised.
“Very good. I’ll try to get in to see Mr. Eyre.”
“Good luck.” Alecia smiled and kissed his cheek.
Oddly enough, the kiss made him feel more engaged than anything else. He’d asked Mr. Loudon for permission to marry Alecia and her grandfather had agreed, assuming he had the means to support her. But that was nothing compared to a simple, wifely kiss. He wished she still had a room so he could whisk her upstairs.
Instead, he merely said, “I’ll see you in a bit, darling.”
Her face lit when she heard the endearment. She squeezed his arm before walking away, but, sweetly, she looked back. He nodded at her, then whistled as he went to the reception desk to plead his case.
“Mr. Moth,” Ivan said, spying the front desk clerk, who sorted the post for the guests at the rear counter.
He turned around and grinned. “Mr. Salter! I didn’t expect to have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
Ivan nodded, feeling too solemn now to smile. “I wondered if I might have a word with Mr. Eyre? It’s important.”
Mr. Moth put his hands on the desk and folded them. “He is in this morning. I’ll speak to him for you. Problem with your pay?”
“No,” Ivan said.
Moth stared at him for a moment, losing his smile. “Very well. None of my business.” He turned and opened the door into the inner recesses, then disappeared.
Teddy Fortress, the film star, came up, whistling and rubbing his gloved hands together. “Dreadful weather, what, what?” he said in the manner of an Indian Army major from the previous century. “Think it will blizzard?”
“No, sir,” Ivan said. “I do not.”
Mr. Fortress chuckled. “Not going to humor me? You’re one of the Russians?”
“Night watchman.”
“Yes. I’ve seen a new one prowling around here. Very close-set eyes, like a film villain. He ought to take a screen test.”
“Is he behaving suspiciously, or is it just his appearance?” Ivan asked.
Fortress shrugged. “He’s a watchman. He watches. I’m a night owl, always have been, and he’s poking about every time I turn around, it seems. Not the worst thing for a watchman.”
“No, but we have our assigned floors. If you’re keeping your wanderings to one or two floors you would see him a lot. Otherwise—”
“So you’re saying, old boy, that I shouldn’t see this watchman on every floor?”
“Correct. Are you?”
Fortress nodded, concern narrowing his eyes. “Exceeded his brief, I take it.”
“He’s new,” Ivan said as the concierge gave Fortress his key and a package.
“Ah, this must be the new scenario. Thank you.” Fortress nodded at
the concierge. “Listen, Mr.—”
“Salter.”
“Salter, then. You tell your guv about the new watchman, will you? I don’t want to make enemies among the staff.”
“Of course, sir.”
Fortress walked away, swinging his cane jauntily. Hugh Moth looked alarmed when he returned from the back room.
“Did Mr. Fortress get what he needed?”
“Yes, Mr. Russell handed him his key, but he gave me a message for Mr. Eyre.”
Moth laughed. “Working every angle, Salter? Very well, you can go back.”
Ivan took that to mean he already had permission, but a little extra insurance never hurt. He lifted the partition and walked through, trying to saunter more calmly than he really felt. He wished he had a prayer rope to worry at. His mother’s grandfather had fiddled with one constantly when he was a child. He hadn’t thought of the man in years. A pity. He’d been a very old man when Ivan was a child, dying close to twenty years ago now.
Ivan straightened his back, remembering all the years of good breeding behind him, and walked into Peter Eyre’s office.
Eyre was, as always, lighting a cigarette when Ivan entered. Ivan noticed a jeweled box on top of a wood file cabinet, winking in the light streaming in from a dormer window. The box was of Indian design. Come to think of it, Eyre’s skin had a dark flush not common in Englishmen, despite his blond hair and aristocratic mien. Had he a touch of foreign blood?
“What do you want, Salter?” Eyre asked, picking a fleck of tobacco off his lip.
“I just spoke to Teddy Fortress. Sounds like Anatoly Smirnov is casing the place more than watching it.”
Eyre leaned back in his chair, clearly on alert in a lazy, panther-like way. “How did you know your replacement’s name?”
“He’s involved in the plot against this hotel. I’m the only one who can recognize these people. You’re letting death enter your hotel.”
“My hotel?”
“I think I know who you are.” Ivan gambled as he pointed at the box. “You’re related to the family, right? I remember one of the owners of the old hotel had a half-Indian wife.”
“No one thinks I have foreign blood,” Eyre said, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.
“I do,” Ivan said. “And I don’t care. I’m an immigrant myself. You want to keep your secret? That is fine with me. You want to mistreat your mistress? That is fine with me. But I don’t want this hotel to die. It’s too important to the hard-working, honest Russian community.”
“You damaged Richard Marvin’s face.”
“You and I both know that the Marvins will be leaving the hotel as soon as the command performance is over. They can’t afford to stay, given Sybil’s career misfortune. But if Ovolensky dies here, it will be a disaster for both the hotel and the British government.”
Eyre set his half-smoked cigarette in his old ashtray. Gray smoke drifted in a thin line across his desk.
The room reeked of old ash. Normally it was aired daily, but Eyre must have been spending too much time in here for it to be cleaned, a sign of trouble.
Ivan leaned forward and put his forearms on the desk. “Let me help you, man. I can see the strain you are under. I’m the only one who can help.”
“Why?” Eyre’s narrow face seemed to be nothing but his startlingly clear, hazel-green eyes.
Ivan’s jaw twitched, but he spoke without emotion. “Because my sister is involved.”
Eyre sat back in his chair and lifted his face to the ceiling. “Bloody hell. The threat against the command performance is real?”
“Indeed.”
“Man-to-man, you and I have very complicated families,” Eyre said, then smiled suddenly. “I’m almost glad for this, you know, Ivan? I like you.” He stood and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard.”
Ivan stood and took the proffered hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“Smirnov is on your own shift.”
“But he’s wandering the hotel instead of staying to his assigned floors.”
Eyre scowled. “I’ll say I hired you back for an extra patrol on the seventh. That way the staff knows I expect you not to run into Richard Marvin.”
“Brilliant.” As long as Georgy didn’t see him. He’d have to be careful.
“But that is not your brief, of course. You need to watch Smirnov.” He hesitated. “I’d like to sack him, though. I can, given what Teddy Fortress told you.”
“Might be best to keep our enemies close for now.”
“What is our best defense?”
Ivan thought quickly. “A last-minute change of location for the command performance. If we come to the end game, we need to clear the first floor and do the performance somewhere else.”
“Any ideas?”
Ivan smiled. “The nightclub. It’s perfect.”
Eyre nodded. “After this is over, if we both survive, we’ll have to discuss your career prospects. Underneath that thick accent you have a sharp brain.”
“Thank you, sir. One more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know if Sadie Loudon ever arrived at the Grand Russe to start the position you promised her sister?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Eyre said. “Check with Olga to be sure. Why?”
“She speaks with her grandfather every Sunday, but she didn’t yesterday. The family is concerned.”
Eyre fiddled with a small elephant figurine that always stood next to his battered ashtray. “Unfortunate, but she is young. I’ll let you know if I run across her.”
“Thank you. I won’t take any more of your time.” He rose, surprised that Eyre did as well, and offered his hand. They shook, then Eyre leaned forward, still holding Ivan’s hand.
“Keep my hotel safe, Ivan,” Eyre said, his voice low with passion. “You are now as responsible for it as I am.”
Ivan slowly pulled his hand away, matching the other man’s gaze. “I understand.”
He walked out of the office, for the first time feeling like the soldier he’d never been.
* * *
Alecia anxiously scanned the door of the Coffee Room as she drank her coffee. The room seemed so decadent to her now. Despite the refurbishment, it had a hint of fin de siècle to her, now that she knew the hotel was at risk. When Sybil appeared in the front door, carefully framing herself in the doorway in a triangular fringed dress, nostalgia blew through her.
Sybil Marvin, who’d seemed such a vision to her a month ago, looked tired and haggard. She saw Alecia and firmed her mouth. Her shoulders straightened. Alecia could see the woman taking on a role, and she didn’t like the look of things.
Her former employer walked up to her, hips swinging. Two fortyish businessmen at a table by the service area stared in frank amusement.
Sybil paused by Alecia’s shoulder.
“Please do sit down,” Alecia said in her sweetest voice. “You are making a scene and what I have to say is private.”
“I should say so,” Sybil snarled as she sat down. “The least you can do, darling, is fetch me a cup of coffee.”
“You look more like you need hair of the dog,” Alecia responded. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I wouldn’t say no to champagne.”
“That is more of a problem than a solution, don’t you think?”
Chapter Seventeen
Alecia went to fetch Sybil coffee from the Coffee Room’s sideboard. She didn’t care if the woman had a headache. What she had to say would only give her former employer a fresh one.
After she’d poured coffee and placed a piece of shortbread beside the cup on the saucer, she brought it back to Sybil and placed it in front of her.
“I never eat sweets.” Sybil pushed the plate away.
“Liar,” Alecia said, calmly moving the plate back into place.
“I know the story now, Alecia,” Sybil said with a huff. “You made advances on Richard.”
“Not true,” Alecia said.
&
nbsp; “No, you did. Apparently it was all for show, because you only went so far. But you had my poor husband so beside himself that he kept going.” Sybil fluttered her hands in the air. “You can’t say no after you say yes. Consequences ensue. Virgins don’t know this, of course.”
“All of that is a lie. He attacked me, which you knew very well when last we spoke.”
“Mr. Marvin has been offered a contract with the movie studio,” Sybil said, staring at her coffee cup. “It’s a new start for both of us.”
“Since your career has fallen apart?” Alecia paused. “Why does losing this one role affect you so? You’d been offered a starring role. There will be others. Your career is far from over.”
“I’m getting old.”
“Self-pity,” Alecia said briskly. “Too much alcohol and not enough food. Don’t let Richard bully you, Sybil. If he’s making a lot of money you can go somewhere and rest.”
“You seem very sure of yourself now.”
“I’m going to marry Ivan.”
Sybil smiled sourly. “Afraid his eye will roam? I thought he’d lost his position too.”
“I have a feeling he can retrieve it.”
“You can’t retrieve yours, Alecia. I’m sorry, whatever the truth is. I can believe both sides of the story.”
“Must be a useful skill for an actress.” Alecia finished off the dregs in her coffee cup, not knowing when she’d eat again that day.
Sybil’s gaze lost focus. “Why don’t you come to the performance? Who knows if I’ll ever play Lady Macbeth again.”
“Be careful, Sybil. Your husband has mixed himself up with some unsavory company.”
“I know the movie industry has its downside,” Sybil said. “But really, Alecia.”
“I meant the woman,” Alecia said, bending forward. She picked up the shortbread and broke it in half. “Here Sybil, eat this.”
Sybil stared at the shortbread, then took it. “His mistress? What about her?”
“She’s dangerous,” Alecia said. “I don’t know the full story, but it isn’t good, Sybil. I’m worried about you. The tighter the rein you can keep on Richard, the better. I don’t care about him, but I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”
“That’s very kind. I am sorry you can’t stay with me. We were friends for a little while, weren’t we?” Sybil stared at the shortbread, then pushed the entire piece into her mouth.
If I Had You Page 23