really did follow him all the way to the lift.
Back on the top floor, he let himself into the flat with the key he’d had such trouble finding. Felix was still there, looking out of the window as Ricky had imagined him. He turned and raised one eyebrow.
‘Sorry,’ said Ricky. He did his best to look like he meant it. Like he hadn’t just returned because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. ‘Got a bit freaked out.’
‘Don’t apologize, Coco. You can leave whenever you want.’
‘I . . . I don’t want to.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ Felix held up a pack of playing cards. ‘Let’s play Kim’s game.’
Ricky blinked at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought you said you’d read the book.’
‘I have.’
‘So you’ll remember the jewel game.’
Ricky nodded. Now he thought about it, he
did
remember it. In the book, a servant had shown Kim a tray full of jewels. When the tray was covered up, Kim had to describe what jewels were there. The agent had practised it over and over, with different objects, until he was able to memorize almost anything at a single glance.
‘Can’t stretch to jewels, I’m afraid,’ Felix added. ‘We’ll use playing cards. That’s how I learned it in the army. All special forces practise this till they’re blue in the face.’
They sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table. Felix laid out ten cards and gave Ricky twenty seconds to memorize them. He got seven right.
‘Not bad, for a first time,’ Felix said. But Ricky could tell by the way he looked at him that he was more impressed than he wanted to let on. ‘Now try again. I’ll shuffle the pack.’
It took eight goes before Ricky could memorize all ten cards. Felix reduced the time he was allowed to look at them to fifteen seconds. Then ten. It was tiring work but when, after an hour, Felix called a halt, Ricky was strangely disappointed. He was in the zone and wanted to continue.
‘It’s getting late, Coco,’ Felix said. ‘You need your beauty sleep.’ He frowned. ‘No offence intended.’
Ricky ignored that comment. He watched Felix collect the cards and stack them neatly on the coffee table.
‘That thing you mentioned,’ he said. ‘About learning this game in the army.’
‘What about it?’
‘Is that where you lost your leg? In the army?’
Felix sniffed. He looked as though he was deciding whether or not to answer. ‘Yeah,’ he said finally.
‘What happened?’
‘I already told you. A bullet.’
‘Yeah, but . . . how?’
‘I was an intelligence officer. And I made a mistake. A very bad mistake.’ He gave Ricky a piercing look. ‘It’s always your mistakes that get you. Remember that.’
‘What was yours?’
‘I used a torch.’
Ricky blinked, not understanding, so Felix continued.
‘I went undercover into an enemy-held village. It was night time. I needed to search an empty house and I used my torch to help me see. Trouble is, if someone’s watching, a torch is the worst thing to use at night. When people see a light moving around inside a house, it always raises their suspicions. The best thing to do is switch a lamp on. Nobody bats an eyelid about that. But there was no lamp inside the house, and I didn’t have night-vision goggles . . .’
His voice trailed away for a moment as Ricky sat in stunned silence.
‘Anyway,’ Felix said suddenly, ‘an enemy sympathizer saw me leaving from a distance. He waited until he thought I was clear of the village, then he took a pot shot and got lucky.’
‘What sort of gun was it?’
‘Does it matter?’ Felix said. His voice was unusually forceful.
‘Sorry,’ Ricky said quickly. He felt he’d overstepped the mark. This wasn’t something Felix liked to discuss.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Felix said: ‘A 7.62 Nato round from a bolt-action M24 sniper rifle.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ricky said again.
‘Don’t be. I was one of the lucky ones. A few centimetres higher
Back on the top floor, he let himself into the flat with the key he’d had such trouble finding. Felix was still there, looking out of the window as Ricky had imagined him. He turned and raised one eyebrow.
‘Sorry,’ said Ricky. He did his best to look like he meant it. Like he hadn’t just returned because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. ‘Got a bit freaked out.’
‘Don’t apologize, Coco. You can leave whenever you want.’
‘I . . . I don’t want to.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ Felix held up a pack of playing cards. ‘Let’s play Kim’s game.’
Ricky blinked at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I thought you said you’d read the book.’
‘I have.’
‘So you’ll remember the jewel game.’
Ricky nodded. Now he thought about it, he
did
remember it. In the book, a servant had shown Kim a tray full of jewels. When the tray was covered up, Kim had to describe what jewels were there. The agent had practised it over and over, with different objects, until he was able to memorize almost anything at a single glance.
‘Can’t stretch to jewels, I’m afraid,’ Felix added. ‘We’ll use playing cards. That’s how I learned it in the army. All special forces practise this till they’re blue in the face.’
They sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table. Felix laid out ten cards and gave Ricky twenty seconds to memorize them. He got seven right.
‘Not bad, for a first time,’ Felix said. But Ricky could tell by the way he looked at him that he was more impressed than he wanted to let on. ‘Now try again. I’ll shuffle the pack.’
It took eight goes before Ricky could memorize all ten cards. Felix reduced the time he was allowed to look at them to fifteen seconds. Then ten. It was tiring work but when, after an hour, Felix called a halt, Ricky was strangely disappointed. He was in the zone and wanted to continue.
‘It’s getting late, Coco,’ Felix said. ‘You need your beauty sleep.’ He frowned. ‘No offence intended.’
Ricky ignored that comment. He watched Felix collect the cards and stack them neatly on the coffee table.
‘That thing you mentioned,’ he said. ‘About learning this game in the army.’
‘What about it?’
‘Is that where you lost your leg? In the army?’
Felix sniffed. He looked as though he was deciding whether or not to answer. ‘Yeah,’ he said finally.
‘What happened?’
‘I already told you. A bullet.’
‘Yeah, but . . . how?’
‘I was an intelligence officer. And I made a mistake. A very bad mistake.’ He gave Ricky a piercing look. ‘It’s always your mistakes that get you. Remember that.’
‘What was yours?’
‘I used a torch.’
Ricky blinked, not understanding, so Felix continued.
‘I went undercover into an enemy-held village. It was night time. I needed to search an empty house and I used my torch to help me see. Trouble is, if someone’s watching, a torch is the worst thing to use at night. When people see a light moving around inside a house, it always raises their suspicions. The best thing to do is switch a lamp on. Nobody bats an eyelid about that. But there was no lamp inside the house, and I didn’t have night-vision goggles . . .’
His voice trailed away for a moment as Ricky sat in stunned silence.
‘Anyway,’ Felix said suddenly, ‘an enemy sympathizer saw me leaving from a distance. He waited until he thought I was clear of the village, then he took a pot shot and got lucky.’
‘What sort of gun was it?’
‘Does it matter?’ Felix said. His voice was unusually forceful.
‘Sorry,’ Ricky said quickly. He felt he’d overstepped the mark. This wasn’t something Felix liked to discuss.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Felix said: ‘A 7.62 Nato round from a bolt-action M24 sniper rifle.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ricky said again.
‘Don’t be. I was one of the lucky ones. A few centimetres higher
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