wants to give something to the Doctor, drops from sight again.
Find him before the goddamn press does .
Where to start?
Check in with the Port Royal in Montreux. Another clerk, another accent, same message. Yuriev still as gone as he was yesterday, still hasn’t called in for messages.
‘By the way, would there be a casino anywhere near your hotel?’
‘A casino? Are you kidding?’
Casino Barrière. Slots, roulette, blackjack, a slapshot from Yuriev’s hotel.
Flashback from Friday.
Harper stopped into LP’s Bar at the Palace Hotel for a few drinks before the Yuriev meet. A woman was at the bar with some friends. She walked over, said he looked as if he could use a friend. Turned out she’s a Londoner living across the lake in Évian. She had auburn hair and nice legs, wore black kid gloves on her hands. Said she worked in Casino Barrière, came to LP’s now and then but she’d be coming more often, if he did too. Wrote her number in a matchbook.
Harper dug through the deep pockets of his mackintosh. Fags, lighter, scraps of paper, matchbook from LP’s Bar. ‘Lucy Clarke’, and a number with a French dialling code written inside. He punched the number into his mobile.
‘Who?’
‘Jay Harper. I met you in LP’s …’
‘I remember. Moody sort at the bar. You work at the IOC. I tried to pick you up but you turned me down. You were nice about it, though. Did you find who you were looking for?’
‘Sorry?’
‘That was your excuse, you were looking for someone.’
‘Still at it. Good memory though.’
‘I never forget a face. So, Jay Harper, where are you?’
‘In Lausanne, staring at the fog, thinking about what to do next.’
‘Clearing up this side of the lake. Look, I was just on my way to a late lunch. It’s Sunday, so it must be Chinese.’
‘Sorry, don’t mean to keep you from your mates. Could I ring you later, something I’d like to ask you.’
‘As a matter of fact, I was going alone. Why don’t you hop on the ferry and come over? When you get to Évian, ask anyone to point you to Jardin des Thés.’
Kid gloves on her hands again, light blue this time. They ordered Tsingtao beers, talked about the weather over sweet and sour soup. Progressed to her current situation over steamed dumplings.
‘I made pit boss three months ago. Two more years then I’m off to Monte Carlo, if I’m lucky.’
‘Such a thing as luck in a casino?’
‘Sure, just ask Santa Claus, he’s one of our best customers.’
‘You like living on the French side of the lake?’
‘Liking France and affording Switzerland are two different things. But, yeah, I like it over here. Switzerland’s a bit too planet fucking perfect for my taste.’
After the dumplings, Harper took out a photo and laid it on the table with the moo goo gai pan.
‘Ever seen this chap?’
‘Who’s he?’
‘The man I’m looking for. Was wondering if he’d surfaced in the casino.’
‘You mean you didn’t come over to sweep me off my feet?’
‘Afraid not.’
‘Well, in that case, croupiers are like Swiss bankers. We don’t discuss clients. And since when did the IOC become a detective agency?’
‘Just asking a simple question.’
‘No such thing. And there’s more than one casino on the lake, Jay. There’re bags. There’s one a few steps from that steamed dumpling on your plate. You planning to finish it?’
‘Help yourself. He was staying in a hotel near the casino. He has a gambling problem.’
‘Anyone walking through the door of a casino has a gambling problem, it’s just a matter of degree. So who is he? Is he a problem? Another crooked Olympic delegate on the take, scamming property options at the next venue?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Well, I haven’t seen him. But I’m not in the casino 24/7.’
‘Right. End of discussion.’
‘That’s it? Not even an attempt at any chit-chat that doesn’t include the weather?’
‘Chit-chat?’
‘Come on, Jay, give it a
Find him before the goddamn press does .
Where to start?
Check in with the Port Royal in Montreux. Another clerk, another accent, same message. Yuriev still as gone as he was yesterday, still hasn’t called in for messages.
‘By the way, would there be a casino anywhere near your hotel?’
‘A casino? Are you kidding?’
Casino Barrière. Slots, roulette, blackjack, a slapshot from Yuriev’s hotel.
Flashback from Friday.
Harper stopped into LP’s Bar at the Palace Hotel for a few drinks before the Yuriev meet. A woman was at the bar with some friends. She walked over, said he looked as if he could use a friend. Turned out she’s a Londoner living across the lake in Évian. She had auburn hair and nice legs, wore black kid gloves on her hands. Said she worked in Casino Barrière, came to LP’s now and then but she’d be coming more often, if he did too. Wrote her number in a matchbook.
Harper dug through the deep pockets of his mackintosh. Fags, lighter, scraps of paper, matchbook from LP’s Bar. ‘Lucy Clarke’, and a number with a French dialling code written inside. He punched the number into his mobile.
‘Who?’
‘Jay Harper. I met you in LP’s …’
‘I remember. Moody sort at the bar. You work at the IOC. I tried to pick you up but you turned me down. You were nice about it, though. Did you find who you were looking for?’
‘Sorry?’
‘That was your excuse, you were looking for someone.’
‘Still at it. Good memory though.’
‘I never forget a face. So, Jay Harper, where are you?’
‘In Lausanne, staring at the fog, thinking about what to do next.’
‘Clearing up this side of the lake. Look, I was just on my way to a late lunch. It’s Sunday, so it must be Chinese.’
‘Sorry, don’t mean to keep you from your mates. Could I ring you later, something I’d like to ask you.’
‘As a matter of fact, I was going alone. Why don’t you hop on the ferry and come over? When you get to Évian, ask anyone to point you to Jardin des Thés.’
Kid gloves on her hands again, light blue this time. They ordered Tsingtao beers, talked about the weather over sweet and sour soup. Progressed to her current situation over steamed dumplings.
‘I made pit boss three months ago. Two more years then I’m off to Monte Carlo, if I’m lucky.’
‘Such a thing as luck in a casino?’
‘Sure, just ask Santa Claus, he’s one of our best customers.’
‘You like living on the French side of the lake?’
‘Liking France and affording Switzerland are two different things. But, yeah, I like it over here. Switzerland’s a bit too planet fucking perfect for my taste.’
After the dumplings, Harper took out a photo and laid it on the table with the moo goo gai pan.
‘Ever seen this chap?’
‘Who’s he?’
‘The man I’m looking for. Was wondering if he’d surfaced in the casino.’
‘You mean you didn’t come over to sweep me off my feet?’
‘Afraid not.’
‘Well, in that case, croupiers are like Swiss bankers. We don’t discuss clients. And since when did the IOC become a detective agency?’
‘Just asking a simple question.’
‘No such thing. And there’s more than one casino on the lake, Jay. There’re bags. There’s one a few steps from that steamed dumpling on your plate. You planning to finish it?’
‘Help yourself. He was staying in a hotel near the casino. He has a gambling problem.’
‘Anyone walking through the door of a casino has a gambling problem, it’s just a matter of degree. So who is he? Is he a problem? Another crooked Olympic delegate on the take, scamming property options at the next venue?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Well, I haven’t seen him. But I’m not in the casino 24/7.’
‘Right. End of discussion.’
‘That’s it? Not even an attempt at any chit-chat that doesn’t include the weather?’
‘Chit-chat?’
‘Come on, Jay, give it a
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