the dim room from their booth.
‘A couple of conferences. Very dull. Bankers have a penchant for prolonging
any meeting way beyond its finish. The Strand or Wall Street, makes no
difference.’ He smiled at her.
‘Yes…. Well, perhaps, they’re always looking for ways to extract every
last dollar.’
‘No “perhal5s.” That’s it. . . . This is quite a place, by the way. Reminds
me of Lisbon.’
‘Rome,’ she said. ‘It’s more like Rome. Way out. Via Appia. Did you know
that the Italians comprise over thirty per cent of the population in Buenos
AiresT
‘I knew it was considerable.’
‘The Italian hand. . . . That’s supposed to mean evil.’
,or clever. Not necessarily evil. The”fine Italian hand” is usually
envied.’
‘Bobby brought me here one night. . . . I think he brings lots
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of girls here.’
‘It’s . . . discreet.’
‘I think he was worried that Henderson might find out be had dishonorable
designs. And so he brought me here.’
‘Which confirms his designs.’
‘Yes. . . . It’s for lovers. But we weren’t.’
‘I’m glad you chose it for us. It gives me a nice feeling of security.’
‘Oh, no! Don’t look for that. No one’s in the market for that this year.
No. . . . Security’s out of the question. And commitments. Those, too. No
commitments for sale.’She took a cigarette from his open pack; he lit it
for her. Over the flame he saw her eyes staring at him. Caught, she glanced
downward, at nothing.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. . . . Nothing at all.’ She smiled, but only the outlines were
there; not the ingenuousness, not the humor. ‘Did you talk to that man
Stoltz?’
‘Good Lord, is that what’s bothering you? . . . I’m sorry, I suppose I
should have said something. Stoltz was selling fleet information; I’m in no
position to buy. I told him to get in touch with Naval Intelligence. I made
a report to the base commander at FMF this morning. If they want to use
him, they will.’
‘Strange he should call you.’
‘That’s what I thought. Apparently German surveillance picked me up the
other day and the financial data was on their sheet. That was enough for
Stoltz.’
:He’s a defector?’
Or selling bad stuff. It’s FMF’s problem, not mine.’
‘You’re very glib.’ She drank her coffee unsteadily.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. . . . Just that you’re quick. Quick and facile. You must be very
good at your work.’
‘And you’re in a godawful mood. Does an excess of gin bring it on?’
:Oh, you think I’m drunk?’
You’re not sober. Not that it matters.’ He grinned. ‘You’re hardly an
alcoholic.’
. ‘Thanks for the vote of confldence. But don’t speculate. That implies some
kind of permanence. We must avoid that, mustn% we?’
‘Must we? It seems to be a point with you tonight. It wasn’t
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a problem I was considering.’
‘You just brushed it aside, I assume. I’m sure you have other, more
pressing matters.’ In replacing her cup, Jean spilled coffee on the
tablecloth. She was obviously annoyed with herself. ‘I’m doing it badly,’
she said after a moment of silence.
‘You’re doing it badly,’ he agreed.
‘I’m frightened.’
‘Of what?’
‘You’re not here in Buenos Aires to talk to bankers, are you? It’s much
more than that. You won’t tell me, I know. And in a few weeks, you’ll be
gone . . . if you’re alive.’
‘You’re letting your imagination take over.’ He took her hand; she crushed
out her cigarette and put her other hand over his. She gripped him tightly.
‘All right. Let’s say you’re right.’ She spoke quietly now; he had to
strain to hear her. ‘I’m making everything up. I’m crazy and I drank too
much. Indulge me. Play the game for a minute.’
‘If you want me to . . . O.K.’
‘It’s hypothetical. My David isn’t a State Department syndromer, you see.
He’s an agent. We’ve had a few here; I’ve met them. The colonels call
themprovocarios…. So, my David is an agent and being an agent is called
. . . high-risk something-orother because the rules are different. That is,
the rules don’t have any meaning…. There aren’t any rules for these
people … like my hypothetical David. Do you follow?’
‘I follow,’ he replied simply. ‘I’m not sure what the object is or how a
person scores.’
‘We’ll get to that.’ She drank the last of her coffee, holding the cup
firmly – too firmly; her fingers shook. ‘The point is, such a man as my .
. . mythical David could be killed or crippled or have his face shot off.
That’s a horrible thought, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I imagine that possibility has occurred to several hundred thousand
men by now. It’s horrible.’
‘But they’re different. They have armies and uniforms and certain rules.
Even in airplanes … their chances are better. And I say this with a
certain expertise.’
He looked at her intently. ‘Stop.’
‘Oh, not yet. Now, I’m going to tell you how you can score a goal. Why does
my hypothetical David do what he does? … No, don’t answer yet.’ She
stopped and smiled weakly. ‘But you weren’t about to answer, were you? It
doesn’t matter; there’s
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a second part to the question. You get extra points for considering it.’
‘What’s the second partT He thought that Jean was recapitulating an
argument she had memorized. Her next words proved it.
‘You see, I’ve thought about it over and over again . . . for this
make-believe game . . . this make-believe agent. He’s in a very unique
position; he works alone . . . or at least with very, very few people. He’s
in a strange country and he’s alone. . . . Do you understand the second
part nowT
David watched her. She had made some abstract connection in her mind
without verbalizing it. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘If David is working alone and in a strange country and has to send codes
to Washington . . . Henderson told me that . . . that means the people he’s
working for have to believe what he tells them. He can tell them anything
he wants to…. So now we come back to the question. Knowing all this, why
does the mythical David do what he does? He can’t really believe that he’ll
influence the outcome of the whole war. He’s only one among millions and
millions.’
‘And … if I’m following you … this make-believe man can send word to
his superiors that he’s having difficulties . . . ..
‘He has to stay on in Buenos Aires. For a long time,’ she interrupted,
holding his hand fiercely.
“And if they say no, he can always hide out in the pampas.’
‘Don’t make fun of me I’ she said intensely.
‘I’m not. I won’t pretend that I can give you logical answers, but I don’t
think the man you’re talking about has such a clear field. Tight reins are
kept on such men, I believe. Other men could be sent into the area . . .
woud be sent, I’m sure. Your strategy is only a short-term gain; the
penalties are long and damned stiff.’
She withdrew her hands slowly, looking away from him. ‘It’s a gamble that
might be worth it, though. I love you very much. I don’t want you hurt and
I know there are people trying to hurt you.’ She stopped and turned her
eyes back to him. ‘They’re trying to kill you, aren’t they? … One among
so many millions . . . and I keep saying to myself, “Not him. Oh, God, not
him.” Don’t you see? . . . Do we need them? Are those people -whoever they
are-so important? To us? Haven’t you done enough?’
He returned her stare and found himself understanding the
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profundity of her question. It wasn’t a pleasant realization. … He had
done enough. His whole life had been turned around until the alien was an
everyday occurrence.
For what?
The amateurs? Alan Swanson? Walter Kendall?
A dead Ed Pace. A corrupt Fairfax.
One among so many millions.
‘Seflor Spaulding?’ The words shocked him momentarily because they were so
completely unexpected. A tuxedoed maltre d’ was standing bythe edge of the
booth, his voice low.
‘Yes?’
‘There’s a telephone call for you.’
David looked at the discreet man. ‘Can’t you bring the telephone to the
table?’
‘Our sincere apologies. The instrument plug at this booth is not
functioning.’
A lie, of course, Spaulding knew.
‘Very well.’ David got out of the booth. He turned to Jean. ‘I’D be right
back. Have some more coffee.’
‘Suppose I wanted a drink?’
‘Order it.’ He started to walk away.
‘David?’ She called out enough to be heard; not loudly.
‘Yes?’ He turned back; she was staring at him again.
‘ “Tortugas” ‘ isn’t worth it,’ she said quietly.