Goddess of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

but little more than was necessary. Arnold shrugged. ‘I’m not cut out to be a social animal.’
    ‘So it seems.’ Kovlinski waved his cigar in a negligent gesture. He nodded to the crowded, noisy room. ‘You came with that beautiful woman … Karen Stannard. Is she your woman, as well as your boss?’
    Arnold laughed outright. ‘No, hardly that. She lacked an escort for this reception: I was dragooned into coming.’
    There was a brief silence, then Kovlinski asked abruptly, ‘Do you have children?’
    ‘None that I’m aware of. And I’ve never married.’
    Kovlinski made a snorting, contemptuous sound. ‘Children can cause difficulties. They are a distraction.’ He seemed on the point of adding something but remained silent.
    Arnold felt the silence weighing heavily on them. ‘How did you know my name?’
    Kovlinski glanced at him, then waved his empty hand in a somewhat deprecating manner. ‘The guest of honour, Minister Alan Stacey, he would know your name if you stepped close to him. Don’t you know that about politicians? They have aides whose job it is to obtain information on all individuals their master is likely to meet. That way, when you approach them, the aide whispers to the master, who acknowledges you by name, and can then leave you with the impression that he knows you personally.’ He humphed quietly. ‘A quiet deception. It’s the same with oil magnates. I asked one of my aides to find out about you.’
    ‘Why would you do that?’ Arnold queried, slightly amused.
    Kovlinski stretched his back, raising his head, jutting out hisnarrow chin as he seemed to ease muscular tensions in his back. ‘I make it my business to watch people, sum them up. You were the only one I detected in the reception who seemed less than eager to be there. Others were doing what they had come to do: make useful acquaintances, seek out contacts that might assist them in whatever role they have in life, generally grovel in the house of a man who has more money than they do.’ He glanced sideways at Arnold. ‘You seemed to wish you were elsewhere. I wondered, where would that be?’
    Arnold made no reply. He didn’t know how to respond, without offending his host.
    ‘So I asked one of my aides to find out who you are.’ Abruptly, Kovlinski changed the subject. ‘Have you had previous dealings with this Alan Stacey?’
    Arnold shook his head. ‘I don’t move in his social or political circles.’
    ‘His background is impeccable, I understand. Eton, Cambridge, a brief spell commissioned in the Guards, then aide to some important politician or other before he stood as an MP in his own right.’ Kovlinski had hitherto betrayed nothing but amused contempt for his guests but now his tone became more clipped. A hint of bitterness crept into his voice. ‘You English seem to be susceptible to that kind of social background among your rulers.’
    Once again, Arnold remained silent.
    It seemed Kovlinski required no reply. ‘For me, a man with no background whom fortune has chosen to make extremely wealthy, men of that kind, Mr Stacey’s kind, are suspect. Life is easy for them; they make no struggle; they have … how do you put it? … a golden spoon always in their mouth.’
    ‘Silver,’ Arnold offered.
    ‘Hmmm. If you say so. But when such a man is met in business , I am careful. When he is also a politician, I am even more careful.’ An edge had crept into his tone. ‘It is dangerous to letsuch men get close. As it is dangerous to let children distract from business.’
    Kovlinski threw away the stub of his cigar in a sudden gesture that seemed almost angry. The cigar traced a brief glowing arc in the darkness before disappearing. Kovlinski turned to face Arnold directly. His features were shadowed but a shaft of light from the library window sent a yellow bar across the chest of his dinner jacket. ‘So this Stannard … she is not your woman. I am told you work in the Department of Antiques and Museums