The Tamarind Seed Read Free Page A

But because of the absence of his section’s real superior, he had got the first look at the information passed to them by the most important Soviet agent in the Western Hemisphere.
    â€˜Good morning.’
    â€˜Good morning.’ Judith was used to finding her neighbour on his balcony when she came out to eat her breakfast. For the first two days he hadn’t spoken; she had hardly noticed him, and spent most of the time lying on the beach, or reading on her own balcony. The hotel was full of people enjoying themselves; couples paired off with others and became noisy little groups who clustered round the bar and monopolised the swimming pool. Judith had resisted several attempts to draw her into joining them. She avoided the pool except at night; she still woke in the small hours and went out alone in the dark to swim. She had talked more to the night watchman than to any of the hotel guests.
    She had never seen her neighbour standing in the shadow by the bungalow every night, watching her. The fact that he hadn’t said more than good morning established him as harmless. He didn’t mix with anyone either. He took his meals at a single table; she had resisted the manager’s attempt to put her with another pair of women, Canadian matrons staying on a hen holiday.
    Until that morning Judith hadn’t really looked at him.
    â€˜It seems hotter this morning.’ It was quite unexpected when he continued the conversation.
    â€˜Yes,’ Judith answered. ‘I think it is.’
    â€˜Perhaps we will have rain. I see some clouds over there.’
    â€˜Perhaps. It doesn’t matter, it never lasts long.’
    â€˜You know not to shelter under those trees?’
    She put her book down. ‘No? What trees?’
    He was younger than she had supposed. Dark and thin featured; it was a nervous face, with light coloured eyes and a mouth that twisted at one side.
    He was looking at her with an intentness that made it impossible to pick up her book without being rude. ‘Those dark green trees there. They have a curious name, I can’t pronounce it. But if the rain comes and you stand beneath them, the water will burn your skin. They are’ very poisonous. They should have told you about it.’
    â€˜I haven’t given them much chance,’ Judith said. ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone since I arrived.’
    â€˜The same for me,’ he said. ‘I came here to get away from people. And you also?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Judith said. ‘I’m afraid the last thing I’ve felt like was a jolly gathering at the bar.’
    â€˜You are not American? Canadian, perhaps?’
    â€˜I’m English,’ she said. ‘Maybe I have a slight accent; I’ve been working in the States for three years.’
    â€˜What is your work?’
    â€˜I’m with the United Nations,’ she said. ‘You’re Russian, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Feodor Sverdlov.’ He got up; his body was tanned a dark brown. He was a long, lean man in a pair of shorts, his feet in old-fashioned lace up canvas shoes. He leaned across and held out his hand. Judith stretched and shook it briefly. She had met with the Russian mania for shaking hands. It was a sign of goodwill if they pumped your arm at intervals, before doing it all over again as you said goodbye. If they didn’t shake hands with you, as Western diplomats knew, it meant the knives were really out.
    â€˜I am also in America. I’m with our Embassy in Washington. You must know Washington.’
    â€˜Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Yes I know it.’ It was as if her mind were a stage and all this time, for four days and nights, Richard Paterson had been waiting in the wings. At the mention of Washington he was right on centre. She got up quickly.
    â€˜I’m going to swim,’ she said. ‘Before it rains.’
    â€˜That is a good idea,’ the Russian answered. ‘I will come with