‘It’s open,’ came his voice.‘Ma’am?’She turned and saw the hotel receptionist walking towards her.‘This just came for Mr Langton.’ The receptionist extended a white envelope. ‘I need a signature: the courier is waiting downstairs. I’ve been trying to call Mr Langton’s room, but his phone was busy.’Anna took the bulky envelope. She signed for it and was thanking the receptionist when Langton appeared at the door.‘Is that it?’She took a video cassette out of the package. ‘Yes. Does your TV have a video player? Mine doesn’t.’‘Shit, I don’t know.’Inside his room, Langton sat back on his heels and examined the TV set. Frustrated, he called reception and requested a video player urgently.While Langton paced up and down, waiting for them to call back, Anna cast a look around his room: it was an untidy mess of discarded clothes, half-eaten hamburger and numerous empty cans of beer. There were wet towels trailing from the bathroom and piled up on the dressing-table were the contents of his pockets: coins, banknotes, receipts and his passport.When the phone rang, Langton grabbed it.
