If I Had You by Heather Hiestand Page B

work.”
    â€œJust my job, sir,” he said eagerly. “I try to keep an eye on all the nooks and crannies of the hotel.”
    â€œExcellent. You are my eyes and ears, you night watchmen,” Eyre said.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou’ll find a gesture of gratitude in your next paycheck,” Lionel Dew added.
    â€œThank you, sir,” Ivan said. “That is very welcome.”
    â€œYou were unemployed for a time before you came to us, correct?” Dew continued.
    â€œYes. Work is scarce.”
    â€œEspecially for immigrants,” Eyre said, lighting a cigarette.
    Ivan watched the unconscious grace of the man as he went through the motions. No wonder women found him so attractive. Masculine poetry in every movement, none of this effete nonsense upper-class young men were affecting right now. “Speaking of immigrants,” he began.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI have some concerns about certain elements of the Russian community where our visit from Georgy Ovolensky is concerned. He is a controversial figure in some circles.” How he hated even saying the name.
    Eyre picked a piece of tobacco off his lip. “I imagine any part of the present government is, among those who fled.”
    â€œVery true, sir.” He chose his words carefully. “I have heard there might be some manufactured unrest at the Marvins’ command performance.”
    Eyre’s eyes narrowed. “From who?”
    Ivan shrugged. “Those who hate Stalin’s government.”
    â€œPlenty of those.” Eyre sat back, regarding him.
    Ivan didn’t know what to do with his hands. He locked them together behind his back, his palms feeling hot underneath his gloves. “I might be able to learn more about it.”
    â€œHow?” Eyre elongated the simple word.
    Ivan cleared his throat. “I can keep my ears open around the Russian community, but I’m also concerned that someone in the Marvins’ world could be helping.”
    â€œYou don’t say,” Eyre drawled.
    â€œYes, but I can’t learn more about that.”
    â€œNo?”
    He felt he had to explain. “You’ve told us not to fraternize with guests.”
    Eyre nodded. “What do you have in mind?”
    â€œMiss Loudon, the Marvins’ secretary, is often underfoot late at night. I’ve attempted to follow orders not to speak to her since you explicitly ordered us to refrain from fraternizing, but if I was allowed to continue our initial conversations, I might be able to learn who is feeding information about the performance to the Russian community.”
    â€œDo you think she is the problem?”
    â€œNo, sir. She’s newly come to London, but she’s always on duty, so she has access to everyone the Marvins do.”
    Eyre steepled his fingers together under his chin. “How much trouble do you think these elements are going to make?”
    â€œI think it is going to be bad, sir, very bad.”
    Mr. Dew’s eyebrows rose. Eyre looked even calmer.
    â€œWe don’t want any trouble.” A thin trail of smoke rose to the ceiling from Eyre’s forgotten cigarette.
    â€œNo, sir, we can’t afford it.”
    Eyre nodded. “I know of whom you speak. She does tend to wander, that one. Go ahead and do your worst with her, as long as she seems of value to the greater enterprise. But I’m going to want to know what you’re hearing among your people. That seems more important to me.”
    Ivan nodded, sadness warring with elation.
    A knock came at the door. The night concierge poked his head in after Eyre called, “Enter.”
    â€œMiss Plash is outside, sir. Says her mother is missing?”
    Eyre ground out his cigarette in a battered brass ashtray, not one of the Grand Russe’s, and stood. “Do we know for how long?”
    â€œShe didn’t tell me. Shall I send her in?”
    Eyre nodded.
    â€œWhy don’t you request a date