The Key to Midnight

street.
        'Alex, what's wrong?'
        'Getting rid of the Jaguar was too easy. Nothing's been this easy so far. Why this?'
        'Isn't it time our luck changed?'
        'I don't believe in luck.'
        Finally he turned away from the street and followed her into the museum.

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    47
        
        They were standing in front of an impressive array of Assyrian antiquities, to which Chelgrin's note had directed them, when they were finally contacted. The senator's representative was a small, wiry man in a peacoat and dark-brown cap. He had a hard face with eyes squinted in perpetual suspicion, and his mouth appeared to have been surgically sewn into a permanent sneer. He stood beside Alex, pretending to appreciate a piece of Assyrian weaponry, and then said, 'Yer 'unter, ain't yer?'
        The stranger's Cockney accent was nearly impenetrable, but Alex understood him: You're Hunter, aren't you?
        Occasionally Alex's interest in languages extended to especially colorful dialects. Richer in slang, more distorted in pronunciation than any other regional usage of the English tongue, Cockney was nothing if not colorful. The dialect had evolved in the East End of London, but it had spread to other parts of England. Originally rhyming slang had been a means by which East End neighbours could talk to one another without making sense to the law or to outsiders.
        The stranger squinted at Alex and then at Joanna. 'Yer butchers like yer pitchers. Both of yer.'
        Alex translated: You look like your pictures. Both of you. The word 'butchers' meant 'look' by virtue of Cockney rhyming slang. A 'butcher's hook' rhymed with 'look'; therefore, by the logic of the code, 'butchers' meant 'look' when used in the proper context.
        'And yer butchers bent ter me,' Alex said. 'Wot yer want?' And you look like a less than honest man to me. What do you want?
        The stranger blinked, astonished to hear an American speaking the East End dialect with such confidence. 'Yer s'pposed ter be a Yank.'
        'At's wot I am.'
        'Yer rabbit right good.' You talk very well.
        'Ta,' said Alex. Thanks.
        Joanna said, 'I'm not following this.'
        'I'll explain later,' Alex promised.
        'Yer rabbit so doddle… 'ell, nuffink surprise me no more,' said the stranger.
        Sensing that the Cockney didn't much like the idea of a Yank talking to him as though they were mates, Alex dropped the dialect. 'What do you want?'
        'Got a message from a right pound-note geezer.'
        Alex translated: from a man who speaks real fancy, which usually meant a man with a la-de-da Oxford accent, though not always. ''That doesn't tell me much,' Alex said.
        'Geezer wif a double of white barnet.' A man with a lot of white hair.
        Barnet Fair was a famous carnival outside London. Since Barnet Fair rhymed with hair, the single word 'barnet' meant 'hair.'
        'What does this geezer call himself?' Alex asked.
        Tom. He gimme a pony ter bring yer a message. Seems 'ee's stayin' at the Churchill in Portman Square, and wants to see yer.'
        It was Senator Thomas Chelgrin who was waiting in a room at the Churchill Hotel. It could be no one else.
        'What else?' Alex asked.
        'At's all der was, mate.' The little man started to turn away, then stopped, looked back, licked his lips, and said, 'One fing. Be careful of 'im, 'ee's dodgy, that one. Maybe worse an dodgy - 'ee's shnide.'
        Dodgy. No good.
        Shnide. Slimy.
        'I'll be careful,' Alex said. 'Thanks.'
        The stranger pulled on his cap. 'It was me, I wouldn't touch him less 'ee was wearin' a durex from 'ead ter foot of 'imself.'
        Alex translated and laughed. I wouldn't touch him unless he was wearing a condom from head to foot. He shared the Cockney's opinion of the senator from Illinois.

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    48
        
        From a public telephone at the museum, Alex called the Churchill Hotel in Portman Square.
        Joanna fidgeted beside him. She was frightened. The prospect of meeting her duplicitous father couldn't be expected to fill her with joy.
        Alex asked the hotel operator for Mr. Chelgrin's room, and the senator answered on the first ring. 'Hello?'
        'It's me,' Alex said. 'I recognize your voice, so I figure you recognize mine.'
        'Is… she with you?'
        'Of course.'
        'I can't wait to see her. Come on