Scars. A limp. Missing fingers. Jewellery. Odd-shaped rings. That kind of unusual.â
Fredericks decided that Charlieâs mind was sharper than his suit. He said: âNo.â
âNo what?â pressed Charlie, determinedly.
âNothing unusual whatsoever. No facial hair. Heâs not losing it up top, either. Full head. No scars or limps. Doesnât wear any jewellery at all, not even a ring,â itemized the American.
âFull head?â isolated Charlie. âDo you mean heâs got more than youâd expect, for a man of his age?â
âNo, I donât think so.â
âColour?â
âLightish brown.â
âLightish brown? Or a tendency to greyness?â
Fredericks paused and then said: âIâm sorry. Would you like a coffee or a drink or something?â
âNothing,â said Charlie, refusing a deflecting interruption. âGenuine light brown or greying?â
Beneath the desk, Fredericks gripped and ungripped his hands in frustration. Why this guy, of all people? âGenuine brown.â
âYou said light brown,â reminded Charlie. âSo what is it, light brown? Or brown?â
âWhat the hell is this, a fucking inquisition!â erupted the American, at last.
âIf you like,â agreed Charlie, unperturbed by the outburst. âYouâve already told me itâs my ass. And it is. And Iâve already told you that Iâm not risking it until Iâm satisfied. Which Iâm not ⦠not by a long way. If I donât get it all, then we both get nothingâ¦â He hesitated, wondering if he should take the risk, and thought shit, why not? He said: âLondon confirmed my authority to abort, didnât they?â
âWouldnât you have checked?â said Fredericks, defensively.
âOf course I would. Thatâs what Iâm doing now,â 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.
âLight brown,â capitulated the American. âHis hair is definitely light bown, without any grey.â
âEyes?â
âBlue.â
âLight blue or dark blue?â
âDark blue.â
âSpectacles?â
âYes.â
Charlie came forward slightly in his chair. âDonât you regard that as an unusual feature?â
âNo,â said Fredericks.
âOf course it is,â disputed Charlie. âHeavy framed, light frame, metal frame or frameless?â
âHeavy,â replied Fredericks. There was very little he was going to be able to hold back, for themselves.
âHeavy what?â
âPlastic, I guess. Black.â
âThick lens?â
âNot particularly.â
âSo they could be false, some sort of minimal disguise?â
âIt would be minimal, wouldnât it?â
âThatâs all itâs got to be, in most cases,â lectured Charlie. âPeople, 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 itâs the wrong person ⦠the sort of hair youâve described can easily be tinted, to heighten the change â¦â Charlie stopped, annoyed at an oversight of his own. âIs it parted?â he said.
âYes,â said Fredericks.
Charlie noted the hesitation. âWhich side?â he said.
âLeft,â said the American. The hesitation was still there.
âYou sure?â
âYes,â said Fredericks, doubtfully.
Charlie hoped the photographs were good: they were a bonus he shouldnât forget. He said: âAnd 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
âWhy!â demanded Fredericks, annoyed