Reilley picked up Kowalski’s cup, poured any remaining liquid into an ashtray, shook the cup then carefully examined the patterns made at the bottom of the cup by the tea leaves.
“Very interesting. Mmm. Yes.” Reilley turned the cup this way and that for a while, before depositing it back on the table with a satisfied grunt.
“Well. What did you see?”
“Very interesting, in fact fascinating, Mr Kowalski, sir.” Reilley produced a toothpick from one of his jacket pockets and applied it to his protruding front teeth.
“Well, come on then. Let’s have it.”
“Very nice meat pie at lunch that was.”
Jan chuckled as he watched Jerzy squirming impatiently in his seat. “Oh come on, Reilley, put him out of his misery. It’s all rubbish anyway. Get on with it before he explodes.”
Reilley put his toothpick back in his pocket and folded his arms.
“I saw a dark and beautiful lady. An unhappy lady.”
“Must be that nice WAAF girl you were leading up the garden path the other night in the pub.”
“This lady has a secret. A secret she has shared with you, sir.”
Kowalski laughed rather nervously as he lit a cigarette. “All the ladies have secrets, do they not?”
Jan picked up his friend’s cup and examined the tea leaves carefully. “So which tea leaf says ‘lady’ and which says ‘secret’?”
“Oh, this is rubbish, Jan. Come on. Let’s get some fresh air.” Kowalski got to his feet.
“It’s a very ancient art, gentlemen. No need to be so rude. Even has a fancy name. Now what was it?” As Reilley pondered, Jan saw Squadron Leader Kellett come into the room, look round briefly, then head in their direction.
“Tasseography!”
“What?”
“That’s the name for it, Pilot Officer Sieczko. Tasseography. A good word for you to get your Polish tongue around. Now, let me have a look at your cup? It’s—” Reilley was cut short by Kellett’s arrival at their table. The three men stood to attention.
“Sit down, gentlemen. Not you, Reilley. I need to speak to these officers in private, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s alright, sir. I need to get back to the kites anyway.” Reilley offered a rather slapdash salute and wandered off to the main door. Kellett sat down. “I’m afraid I have some rather bad news for you. I just got a call from DCI Merlin. Apparently Kilinski has been found dead.”
Jan closed his eyes for a moment and raised a hand to his mouth.
“Where, sir?” Kowalski reached out a hand to pat Jan’s shoulder.
“In the rubble of a bombed building in the centre of London.”
Jan lowered his hand and absentmindedly lifted his empty tea cup to his lips. “So he got killed in a raid?”
“Sounds like it. Merlin didn’t say any more, other than to ask that you, Sieczko, might help identify the body. It’s pretty banged up apparently.”
“How do they know for certain that it’s him?”
“He didn’t say. Presumably he’s in his uniform and we are not missing any other Polish pilots.”
“Where do they want me to go?”
“St Pancras mortuary.”
“But how can I go, sir? There might be—”
“I’ve checked with Bomber Command and there seems to be nothing brewing at the moment. I’ll organise a car for you straightaway and you could be there and back in a couple of hours. A straight run on the A40. Come on.”
*