The Defector by Evelyn Anthony

avoided physical contact with him before. On the few occasions when they touched, it made her nervous. Now she put her hand on his arm.
    “You’re out of the cage,” she said.
    “And talking to other people is just what you need. Come on.” He could see the little group out on the terrace, through the windows at the far end of the hall; and then Davina had opened a door and was walking out into the garden.
    “Darling we didn’t hear you arrive.” He saw the tall, white-haired woman kiss her, and the smaller figure of a man get out of his garden chair, and give her a quick peck on the cheek.
    “This is Pavel - I won’t try and pronounce the rest of it. My father, Captain Graham; my mother.” He shook hands with them, and then he heard Davina say behind him, “Hello Charley. How nice to see you… Pavel, my sister, Charlotte Ransom.” He turned round; hearing the man’s name he had expected to see a man. She was beautiful. There was no other word to describe her; pretty, attractive, glamorous, these were commonplace adjectives, applicable to many women. But she was beautiful. He shook hands with her. She smiled, and the effect was warm as sunlight. Hair like Davina’s and yet not like, because it was the vibrant colour of Spanish mahogany, heavy and shining, falling naturally to her shoulders. Enormous grey eyes, framed in eyelashes that should have been false but were her own. A face that at first sight was classical, every feature in harmony, and that changed when she smiled, becoming sensuous and challenging. She wore trousers and a shirt, with a sweater knotted round her waist by the sleeves. He noticed gold chains round her neck, and a wide gold ring on her left hand.
    “Hello,” she said.
    “Isn’t it a lovely evening? Let’s sit down, shall we?” He hesitated, and Davina said, “Shall we take our cases up first?”
    “No dear,” Mrs. Graham said.
    “You can do that later. We’re having a drink out here, before it gets too chilly. Do sit down, Pavel. What would you like?”
    “I’ll get it,” Captain Graham said.
    “Davina?”
    “Vodka and tonic, please.” He leaned towards Sasanov.
    “I’m sorry I don’t know your proper name. But if my daughter says she can’t pron ounce it, then I’m damned sure I wouldn’t be able to! So we’ll all call you Pavel. What would you like to drink? “
    “Vodka,” Sasanov said.
    “No tonic, thank you.” He found himself sitting beside the sister; even in the garden he could smell the scent she wore. It was heavy and provocative; she leaned back, her hands clasped behind her head. The attitude showed off small, perfect breasts.
    “What are you doing in England?”
    “I’m at the Embassy,” he answered.
    “I am a trade secretary.”
    “Isn’t that supposed to mean you’re a spy? I thought all trade secretaries were really spies.” She laughed, and it covered an embarrassed silence.
    “Really, Charley Mrs. Graham protested.
    “No,” Sasanov responded.
    “The commercial attaches are the spies. Not the trade secretaries. I’m very harmless.” There was a general laugh; he didn’t look at Davina.
    “How long have you been in England?” Charley Ransom asked him.
    “A year,” he said.
    “I like England very much.”
    “And are you and Davina old friends?” The beautiful grey eyes were twinkling, as if there were something risque about being a friend other sister’s. The charm was coming at him in waves, like the scent.
    “Not very long,” he said. He wished that Davina would interrupt the flow of questions. But she was talking to her mother.
    “Do you live near here?” He took the initiative away from her.
    “I live in London,” she said.
    “I’ve got a flat in Portman Place. You must come round and have a drink.”
    “That’s very kind,” Sasanov said. She had begun to play with one of the gold chains round her neck; a large medallion hung on it, engraved with the Aries sign of the zodiac. She had beautiful hands, with