Queen Victoria's Revenge by Harry Harrison Page B

emcubrilor or encubridor.”
    â€œWould you write the word down here just as you heard it?”
    Tony did and the paper was taken away. At the same time Jasmin was ushered in through the still open door.
    â€œTony! Then you are not dead. I was so worried.” She embraced him briefly, but before he could return the embrace she pulled away and sat down.
    â€œI was more worried about you, it’s been hours since they took you away.”
    â€œThere is not the need to tell me! Cochons! From one car to another, the blindfold, riding and riding until zip, I am in the street with runners in my best pantyhose. So I call 999 and am here.”
    â€œNine, nine, nine?”
    â€œThe emergency number anywhere in the British Isles,” Inspector Smivey patiently explained. “You might remember it for future reference. Now, if you would be so kind as to wait in the outer office one of my people will get back to you. We have contacted the American authorities about an emergency passport. In the meantime we are arranging for a room for you in a hotel nearby and would appreciate it if you were to go there and remain until we contact you.”
    â€œI’m for that. It’s been a long day—or days.”
    Jasmin waved weakly when he left and in the outer office he found the copilot, Tubby Waterbury, sprawled on a sofa and reading a newspaper. A black headline read “SKYJACK MURDER VICTIM LOOTED.”
    â€œGlad to see you got out of this in one piece, Hawkin.”
    â€œI feel the same way. How’s the plane?”
    â€œGoing no place fast. Haycroft refused to leave it except at gunpoint so I came down to brief them. That airport, Tilbury Hill, used to be a bomber base in the Second World War. No one’s been near it since. That damned runway is no harder than baked mud.”
    The inspector poked his head out of the door. “Mr. Hawkin. Could that word have been encubridor?”
    â€œSounds right. But I never heard it before.”
    â€œIt apparently means a fence, receiver of stolen goods, in Cuban slang. That would make sense in context, would it not?”
    â€œPositively. They needed the money as a sample for the fence to see. If that’s what the word means.”
    â€œIt does. Our Spanish Department is quite knowledgeable. A messenger will be here for you in a moment. A room’s been booked at the Regent Palace Hotel, which, so I’m given to understand, is favored by your countrymen.”
    â€œTourists,” Tubby said as soon as the inspector had vanished. “Full of them. Right on Piccadilly Circus. Traffic will keep you awake all night.”
    â€œMr. Hawkin?” a young, pert, long-haired and short-skirted girl in a tight sweater asked, smiling. “I’m to take you to the hotel.” He nodded like a simpleton and followed obediently, wondering at all the stories he had heard about the undersexed and ugly English girls.
    The cab ride was all too brief and she unhappily departed as soon as he was given his room key. The bellhop widened his eyes a bit at the lack of luggage, but they shrank back to normal when he was presented with an American dollar bill, which, he assured Tony, he would have no trouble cashing even though it was devalued. The room was on the smallish side and furnished in early British nothing, while the roar of traffic did come in clearly through the window. However, after a search he found a phone, a number for room service and a menu. He settled for a sandwich and some beer after a linguistic struggle with a strangely accented person at the other end of the line. Then he stripped off his shirt and picked up the tape that held the gigli saw in place about his wrist. It would not come free easily so he decided to ignore it and washed the dust of England from it as well as his arm and the rest of his easily accessible skin. His chin was decidedly scratchy; after he ate he would have to think about getting a shave and, if