It was as if both were insatiable. Climax was followed by quiet talk, and one or the other looked in on Emmanuel Weingrass, then more talk, bodies together, rushing once again for the fulfilment both craved. Neither could stop holding the other, pulling, weaving, rolling, until the sweet juices were exhausted… and still they could not let each other go until sleep came.
The earliest morning sun broke open the Colorado day. Drained but strangely at peace within the warm, temporary cave they had found for themselves, Evan reached for Khalehla. She was not there; he opened his eyes. She was not there. He elbowed himself up on the pillow; her clothes were draped on a chair and he breathed again. He saw that the doors to both his bathroom and the clothes cupboard were open and then he remembered and laughed quietly, ruefully, to himself. The hero of Oman and the experienced intelligence agent from Cairo had gone to the Bahamas with one carry-on bag apiece, and in the rush of events had promptly left both either in a Nassau police car or on an Air Force F-106. Neither had noticed until after their first stampeded race for the bed, after which Khalehla had stated dreamingly,
‘I bought an outrageous nightgown for this trip—more in hope than in realistic expectation—but I think I’ll put it on.’ Then both had looked at each other, mouths gaped, eyes widened. ‘Oh, my God!’ she cried. ‘Where the hell did we leave it? I mean them, the two of them!’
‘Did you have anything incriminating in yours?’
‘Only the nightie—it wasn’t right for Rebecca of Sunny-brook Farm… Oh, good Lord! A couple of real pros we are!’
‘I never claimed to be one—’
‘Did you have—’
‘Dirty socks and a sex manual—more in hope than in realistic expectation.’ They had fallen back into each other’s arms, the humour of the situation telling them something else about themselves. ‘You’d wear that nightgown for roughly five seconds before I tore it off and then you’d have to charge the government for the loss of personal property. I just saved the taxpayers at least six dollars… Come here.’
One of them had checked on Manny; neither could remember which.
Kendrick got out of bed and went to his closet. He owned two bathrobes; one was missing so he went into his bathroom to make himself feel and look reasonably presentable. After a shower and a shave he applied too much cologne, but then, he reflected, it had not hurt him nearly twenty years ago in college with an empty-headed cheerleader. Had it been that long ago since impressions mattered to him? He put on his second bathrobe, walked out of the room and down the stone hallway to the arch. Khalehla was sitting at the heavy pine table with the black leather top in the living room, talking quietly into the telephone. She saw him and smiled briefly, concentrating on the person at the other end of the line.
‘It’s all clear,’ she said as Evan approached. ‘I’ll be in touch. Goodbye.’ Khalehla got up from the table, the outsized bathrobe draped strikingly, revealingly around her body. She pulled the folds of fabric together and came to him, suddenly reaching out and placing her hands on his shoulders. ‘Kiss me, Kendrick,’ she ordered gently.
‘Aren’t I supposed to say that?’
They kissed until Khalehla understood that in another moment they would be heading back to the bedroom. ‘Okay, okay, Kong, I’ve got things to tell you.’
‘Kong?’
‘I wanted you to break down a door, remember?… Good heavens, you forget things.’
‘I may be incompetent but I hope not inadequate.’
‘You’re probably right about the first, but you’re definitely not inadequate, my darling.’
‘Do you know how much I love to hear you say that?’
‘What?’
‘”My darling”–‘
‘It’s an expression, Evan.’
‘At this moment I think I’d kill if I thought you used it with anyone but me.’
‘Please.’
‘Have you? Do you?’
‘You’re asking me if I just like to sleep around occasionally, aren’t you?’ said Khalehla calmly, removing her arms from him.
‘That’s pretty rough. No, of course not.’
‘Since we’re talking and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, let’s tackle this. I’ve had attachments, as you’ve had, and I’ve called several “darling”, even “dearest”, I suppose, but if you want to know the truth, you insufferable egotist, I’ve never called anyone “my darling”. Does that answer your question, you rat?’
‘It’ll do,’ said Evan, grinning and reaching for her.
‘No, please, Evan. Talking is safer.’
‘I thought you just gave me an order to kiss you. What changed?’
‘You had to talk and I had to start thinking again… And I don’t think I’m ready for you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m a professional and I have work to do and if I’m screwed up with you—figuratively and literally—I can’t do it.’
‘Again, why not?’
‘Because, you idiot, I’m very close to being in love with you.’
That’s all I’m asking for. Because I do love you.’
‘Oh, those words are so easy, so facile. But not in my business, not in the world I live in. The word comes down: Have so-and-so killed, or let him be killed—whichever it is, it solves a multitude of problems… And what happens if it turns out to be you… my darling. Could you do it if you were me?’
‘Could it really ever come down to that?’
‘It has; it might. It’s called third-party omission, as in what do I know—but they know what I’ll permit. You see, you’re one human being—terrific or despicable, depending on the point of view—and by giving you away we might save two hundred or four hundred people on a plane because “they” couldn’t get you unless we gave you away before a flight… Oh, my little world is filled with benignly neglected morality because all we deal with is malignant immorality.’
‘Why stay in it? Why not get out?’
Khalehla paused, looking at him, her eyes unwavering.
‘Because we save lives,’ she answered finally. ‘And every now and then something happens that reduces the malignancy, showing it for what it is, and peace is just a little closer. More often than not we’ve been a part of that process.’
‘You’ve got to have a life beyond that, a life of your own.’
‘Oh, I will one day, because one day I won’t be useful any more, at least not where I want to be. I’ll be a known commodity—first you’re suspected, then you’re exposed and then you’re useless, and that’s when you’d better get out of town. My superiors will try to persuade me I can be valuable in other posts; they’ll dangle the bait of a pension in front of me and a nice choice of sectors, but I don’t think I’ll bite.’
‘According to that scenario, what will you do?’
‘Good Lord, I speak six languages fluently and read and write four. Coupled with my background, I’d say my qualifications are ample for any number of jobs.’
‘That sounds reasonable except for one thing. There’s a missing ingredient.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Me… That’s what I’m talking about.’
‘Oh, come on, Evan.’
‘No,’ said Kendrick, shaking his head. ‘No more “Oh, come on” or “Please, Evan.” I won’t settle for that. I know what I feel and I think I know what you feel and to disregard those feelings is both stupid and a waste.’
‘I told you, I’m not ready—’
‘I never thought I’d ever be ready,’ interrupted Kendrick, his voice soft and flat. ‘You see, I’ve done some thinking, too, and I’ve been pretty harsh on myself. I’ve been selfish most of my life. I’ve always loved the freedom I have, to go and do what I’ve wanted to do—badly or well, it didn’t make much difference so long as I could do it. Self-sufficient, I guess is the term—self, self, self. Then you come along and blow the whole damn thing to pieces. You show me what I don’t have and by showing me you make me feel like an idiot… I have no one to share anything with, it’s as simple as that. No one I care for enough to run to and say “Look, I did it,” or even “Sorry, I didn’t do it.”… Sure, Manny’s there, when he’s there, but his own opinion notwithstanding, he’s not immortal. You said last night that you were scared… well, I’m the one who’s scared now, frightened beyond any fear I thought I’d ever experience. That’s the fear of losing you. I’m not much good at begging or grovelling, but I’ll beg and grovel or do anything you like, but please, please don’t leave me.’
‘Oh, my God,’ said Khalehla, closing her eyes, the tears rolling separately, slowly, down her cheeks. ‘You son of a bitch.’
‘It’s a start.’
‘I do love you!’ She rushed into his arms. ‘I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t!’
‘You can always change your mind in twenty or thirty years.’