The Dog who Came in from the Cold Chapter 56: Freddie de la Hay Goes Off Air

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The event that Tilly Curtain described to William so cursorily at their meeting in the restaurant – the sudden fading into silence of Freddie de la Hay’s transmitter – had only come about by pure chance. It was certainly not the result of anything that Freddie had done; he had behaved impeccably from the moment he had been brought by Tilly Curtain to the flat next door. He had been puzzled by what seemed now to be a fairly constant process of being passed from pillar to post, but he was not by nature a complainer, and he had accepted it.

Of course he did not like Anatoly Podgornin, the man to whom Tilly consigned him, but again he did not outwardly show this dislike – apart from a slight drawing back when the Russian bent down to pat him on the head. Nor did he like the smell of this new flat, which was heavily dominated by stale tobacco smoke. There were other disagreeable scents too: from the kitchen there came an odd, vinegary smell that made the inside of Freddie’s sensitive nose prickle; there was a meaty odour there, too, which was more satisfactory, but he could tell that something had been done to the meat to make it rank in the canine olfactory spectrum.

On his arrival in Podgornin’s flat, Freddie had been led into a sitting room. There was a woman there, and two other men, and they were engaged in some sort of meeting. When Podgornin entered with Freddie, one of the men gave a sarcastic cheer. “Country gentleman, now, Anatoly Michailovich?” he called out mockingly. “Going shooting? Off to the dacha?”

Podgornin cleared his throat. “My house,” he said. “If I want a dog, it’s up to me. And it’s just for a week. I’m looking after him for that charming young lady on the other side of the landing.”

“Fraternising with the locals?” asked the other man. “Or only with the female locals?”

Podgornin watched as Freddie went to lie down on a rug. “He’s settling in. And as for this business about fraternising, how are we to make the necessary contacts unless we get out and meet people? Moscow made it clear: integrate, get on the inside track. You know that as well as I do.”

The woman was clearly irritated by this conversation and began to show her impatience. “That’s enough about dogs,” she said. “Pointless creatures. I suggest we get back to the topic in hand, which is, if I may remind you, the issue of access to further information about energy acquisition strategy. I would like to know where you are with that young man in their liaison office. Coming along nicely?”

“Very,” said Podgornin. “He is that very useful character – the incorrigible gambler. At the moment he has very little debt – he’s been lucky – but I’m assured by our friend in the casino that it won’t be long before we shall have him right where we want him. We shall very generously offer to pay his debts once they’re large enough—”

“And pressing enough,” interjected the woman.

Podgornin laughed. “Exactly. And then he’s ours.” He hesitated. “Although frankly I don’t see what they’ll get from him.”

The woman looked at him scornfully. “You don’t get it, do you? If we know the real position of our rivals in energy negotiations – how much they can really afford to pay, which officials they’re bribing and so on – then we can … we can adjust our own offers … and inducements accordingly.”

“Oh, I know all that,” snapped Podgornin. “What I was wondering was whether that particular man will have the information in his possession. I suspect we might be overestimating his importance in the office. The monkey doesn’t always know what tune the organ grinder’s going to play. That’s all.”

“I shall be the judge of that,” said the woman coldly. “And my sources tell me that he has access to the lot. Complete.”

Podgornin shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Freddie watched them from the rug. He did not like any of them, but he was developing a particular dislike for the woman. There was something about her that made the hairs on his back stand on end, and indeed that was now happening, giving him a slightly strange appearance, as if he had teased out his coat with hair gel.

The woman was looking at him intently. “There’s something odd about that dog,” she said. “Look at him. He’s ill at ease.”

“It’s a new place,” said Podgornin. “Dogs take a bit of time to get used to new surroundings. He’ll settle.”

“I had a dog once who looked a bit like this one,” said one of the other men. “Went mad. The police came in and shot him.”

“Did you need those rabies injections?” asked his colleague.

“Yes, but then they did the tests and they discovered that it wasn’t rabies. He had just cracked. Stress, I suppose.”

“Oh.”

The woman was still staring at Freddie de la Hay, who returned her gaze cautiously, trying not to blink and thereby attract unwelcome attention. He felt distinctly uncomfortable now, and wondered how long his ordeal would last. Why was William letting this happen to him? Where was he? What had he done to bring this about this rejection, this abandonment?

“Look at him,” said the woman. “There’s definitely something odd going on. Do you know this young woman who owns him, Anatoly?”

Pordgornin lit another cigarette. “She lives next door. I already told you.”

“That means nothing,” said the woman. “You can live next door to people for years and know nothing about them. What do you know about her? What does she do?”

Podgornin looked sulky. “I don’t know,” he spat out. “In London you don’t go round asking people what they do.”

The woman now began to move very slowly towards Freddie de la Hay. She was staring at his collar. He eyed her watchfully, his nose twitching very slightly, his whiskers erect and receptive.

She was now standing directly above Freddie, who whimpered, almost inaudibly. “Nice dog,” she said, reaching down to stroke him. He tensed, but allowed her to try to smooth down the hair on his back. He could not see her hand; he just felt her touch. Now the hand moved forward and was about his neck. She was fumbling with something.

The woman gave a cry, and Freddie felt his collar being stripped roughly from his neck. “What have we here?” she said triumphantly. And then turning to Podgornin, she waved the bulky collar in his direction, as if confronting a malefactor with the evidence.

She put a finger to her lips and mouthed the word “silence”.

Podgornin looked flushed and confused. Freddie lay where he was. Nobody moved.

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