North: Chapter 5
5: In The Climate of Struggle (Part One)
Now
The Night Manager, plush and neatly arranged as Marcus knew the rest of the hotel would be, had been waiting nervously for him. As Marcus crossed the lobby towards him, the man noticed him and took a crisp white handkerchief from his breast pocket. He pressed both of his small and pink hands to it, then removed it from sight to a side pocket. In a practiced motion made of self-consciousness and preening, he smoothed back his silver hair, and waited for Marcus to reach him in front of the reception desk.
“Good evening, Sir,” said Marcus and he pitched his voice low and even to suggest discretion. “My name is Marcus. You have been expecting me.”
“Ah, yes, yes indeed. I am the Night Manager. Welcome, Agent, welcome.”
He offered his hand and Marcus shook it, translating the touch into details of medical conditions, psychological disposition, dietary predilections and, of course, blood-group.
“I trust you have not been waiting long, Sir,” said Marcus and he handed the Night Manager his badge.
The Night Manager took it and opened the wallet gingerly, his eyes flicking onto the crest of the gold crown, its four points gleaming and glinting beneath the chandeliers, across to Marcus’ portrait, and then down to his designation. He closed the wallet and handed it back.
“Ah, not at all, not at all, by no means,” he said. “May I offer you some refreshment?”
“Thank you, no,” said Marcus and then, to formally open the investigation, he said: “ ‘I Am His Majesty’s Agent, I Come Here By Decree’.”
The Night Manager nodded quickly, realising it had begun and said:
“How may we help you, Agent?”
