Mrs Harris Goes to Moscow by Paul Gallico Page A

heavy with sarcasm, ‘Right under your nose? And you did not try to prevent it?’
    â€˜I have no orders to resort to violence, Comrade.’
    â€˜That is true. Besides, the orders are to be very careful with the foreigner, Rubin. It is a sensitive area. There are two Ministries involved.’
    The obese woman breathed a slight sigh of relief that apparently she had managed to keep out of the middle of something. She said, ‘Then perhaps it is all for the best for you will be able to monitor everything that is said in the room where they will surely disclose the nature of the contact.’
    There was rather too long a pause from the other end of the telephone and then the sound of a throatbeing cleared, followed by, ‘There have been some temporary complications. The necessary repairs have not yet been made. That department has never been co-operative. Install, yes. Repair, no. Not interested.’ He said a fine Russian swear word and then asked, ‘Where is their guide, Praxevna Lelechka?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜Find her. She must assume control over them again.’
    â€˜Boris and Anoutchka are on the floor. Boris has a listening device. Do you want him to attach it to the door?’ Boris was the KGB man concealed with the chambermaid and quarrelling with her behind the service door.
    Pavel’s voice spoke sharply, ‘Don’t be a fool, Tashka. I told you the Rubin area is highly sensitive. If it ever comes out why he is here we will be taking residence in Siberia. Find Praxevna Lelechka and get those two out of there.’ This was followed by another expressive oath after which the phone at the other end was hung up.
    Within the confines of Room 701, which was in the same state of crumbling Victorian glory as that of Violet and Ada’s, Mr Rubin was saying, ‘How do you like yours?’ holding in his hand a glass and a bottle of Gordon’s Gin.
    â€˜With just a drop of water,’ replied Mrs Harris, ‘and me friend ’ere likes it neat. Ain’t that right, Vi?’
    Mrs Butterfield said, ‘If the gentleman doesn’t mind.’ She was not wholly at ease for she could not adapt herself as quickly as Mrs Harris and any and every unusual situation in which she found herself was always fraught with possible doom.
    While Mr Rubin was pouring, Ada’s bright, mischievous eyes were exploring the room to see if she could guess who and what this attractive little man might be. Salesman, was the answer she rang up from a pile of sample books she saw upon a table though she could not see as to samples of what, and to her amusement scattered on a sofa she caught sight of several porno magazines. There was also a dish of apples and oranges on the table.
    Mr Rubin raised his own glass of clear liquid and said, ‘To you ladies,’ and then half under his breath added, ‘and Ivan.’
    The two women raised theirs and Mrs Harris replied to the toast, ‘Your very good ’ealth, sir, and we’re very much obliged to you for your kindness,’ and then her curiosity getting the better of her she asked, ‘ ’Oo’s Ivan?’
    â€˜Ah, Ivan,’ repeated Mr Rubin and the gay expression upon his mixture of features changed to one combining a kind of introspective reverie and love. ‘Ivan, the Ripoff King of the Hotel Tolstoi. Master of the hot ruble. He’s the hotel porter. You want it, he’ll get it for you if you’ve got the lolly. But the hard stuff – you know – foreign currency.’He held up the gin bottle. ‘Where do you think this came from? I can’t stand that vodka.’ He pointed to the table. ‘Have you seen any oranges anywhere else in this rotten city? Or maybe you ain’t been here long enough yet.’ At the use of the word ‘rotten’ Mrs Butterfield began to show signs of agitation. ‘Or them,’ and he pointed to the porno