See Charlie Run by Brian Freemantle Page A

Scars. A limp. Missing fingers. Jewellery. Odd-shaped rings. That kind of unusual.’
    Fredericks decided that Charlie’s mind was sharper than his suit. He said: ‘No.’
    â€˜No what?’ pressed Charlie, determinedly.
    â€˜Nothing unusual whatsoever. No facial hair. He’s not losing it up top, either. Full head. No scars or limps. Doesn’t wear any jewellery at all, not even a ring,’ itemized the American.
    â€˜Full head?’ isolated Charlie. ‘Do you mean he’s got more than you’d expect, for a man of his age?’
    â€˜No, I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Colour?’
    â€˜Lightish brown.’
    â€˜Lightish brown? Or a tendency to greyness?’
    Fredericks paused and then said: ‘I’m sorry. Would you like a coffee or a drink or something?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ said Charlie, refusing a deflecting interruption. ‘Genuine light brown or greying?’
    Beneath the desk, Fredericks gripped and ungripped his hands in frustration. Why this guy, of all people? ‘Genuine brown.’
    â€˜You said light brown,’ reminded Charlie. ‘So what is it, light brown? Or brown?’
    â€˜What the hell is this, a fucking inquisition!’ erupted the American, at last.
    â€˜If you like,’ agreed Charlie, unperturbed by the outburst. ‘You’ve already told me it’s my ass. And it is. And I’ve already told you that I’m not risking it until I’m satisfied. Which I’m not … not by a long way. If I don’t get it all, then we both get nothing…’ He hesitated, wondering if he should take the risk, and thought shit, why not? He said: ‘London confirmed my authority to abort, didn’t they?’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you have checked?’ said Fredericks, defensively.
    â€˜Of course I would. That’s what I’m doing now,’ said Charlie. No doubt about it: General Sir Alistair Wilson was a bloody good man to have watching your back. Or ass, which seemed the buzzword.
    â€˜Light brown,’ capitulated the American. ‘His hair is definitely light bown, without any grey.’
    â€˜Eyes?’
    â€˜Blue.’
    â€˜Light blue or dark blue?’
    â€˜Dark blue.’
    â€˜Spectacles?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Charlie came forward slightly in his chair. ‘Don’t you regard that as an unusual feature?’
    â€˜No,’ said Fredericks.
    â€˜Of course it is,’ disputed Charlie. ‘Heavy framed, light frame, metal frame or frameless?’
    â€˜Heavy,’ replied Fredericks. There was very little he was going to be able to hold back, for themselves.
    â€˜Heavy what?’
    â€˜Plastic, I guess. Black.’
    â€˜Thick lens?’
    â€˜Not particularly.’
    â€˜So they could be false, some sort of minimal disguise?’
    â€˜It would be minimal, wouldn’t it?’
    â€˜That’s all it’s got to be, in most cases,’ lectured Charlie. ‘People, even trained people, respond to immediate impressions, not careful studies. Heavy black glasses are a feature, and if they are missing when you expect them the immediate impression might be that it’s the wrong person … the sort of hair you’ve described can easily be tinted, to heighten the change …’ Charlie stopped, annoyed at an oversight of his own. ‘Is it parted?’ he said.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Fredericks.
    Charlie noted the hesitation. ‘Which side?’ he said.
    â€˜Left,’ said the American. The hesitation was still there.
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Fredericks, doubtfully.
    Charlie hoped the photographs were good: they were a bonus he shouldn’t forget. He said: ‘And if Kozlov really needs glasses, then the opportunity for an appearance change is still there. He could use contact lenses and even alter the proper colour of his eyes.’
    â€˜Why!’ demanded Fredericks, annoyed