David Braun came in and stood to one side, and it was the man following him who shocked her. He seemed about six feet tall, with good shoulders, and wore a black jump suit. The shock was the black knitted ski mask he wore, through which his eyes seemed to glitter. All in all, as sinister-looking a creature as she had ever seen in her life.
His voice, when he spoke, was good Boston American. “A pleasure, Countess, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“My God, you’re American, and I thought you were Israelis when I heard Hebrew spoken.”
“My dear Countess, half the men in Israel speak English with an American accent. That’s where most of us received our education. Best in the world.”
“Really?” she said. “A matter of opinion.”
“Yes, I was forgetting. You went to Oxford and the University of Paris.”
“You’re well informed.”
“I know everything about you, Countess—everything. No secrets.”
“And I know nothing about you. Your name, for example.”
She could see his teeth through the slot for his mouth and it was as if he smiled. “Judas,” he said. “Call me Judas.”
“Very biblical,” she said, “but, alas, an unfortunate connotation.”
“Oh, yes, I know what you mean, Judas betraying Christ in the Garden.” He shrugged. “But there were sound political reasons. Judas Iscariot was a Zealot. He wanted his country free of the Romans.”
“And you?”
“I just want my country free of everybody.”
“But how does that concern me, for God’s sake?”
“Later, Countess, later. In the meantime, David will see to your every need. You’ll have to eat in here, naturally, but if there’s anything special you’d like, just ask him. Plenty of books on the shelves, and you’ve got your painting. I’ll speak to you again.”
Braun opened the door for him and followed him out. Judas pulled off the hood and ran his fingers through close-cropped, copper-colored hair. He had a strong face, high cheekbones, blue eyes, and there was a restless vitality to him. He looked around fifty years of age.
“See to her, David,” he said. “Anything she wants for the moment.”
“Consider it done.” Braun hesitated. “She’s a nice woman. Do you really intend to go through with it if you don’t get what you want?”
“Certainly,” Judas said. “Why, are you weakening on me, David?”
“Of course not. Our cause is just.”
“Well, keep that in the front of your mind. I’ll see you later.”
As he turned, Braun said, “Any news from Aaron and the other two?”
“He called in from Salinas on his ship’s radio. It marches, David.” The man who called himself Judas smiled. “It’s going to work. Just keep the faith.”
He walked away along the stone-flagged corridor, and Braun unlocked the door and went in. She turned from the window.
“There you are. So the big bad wolf has gone?”
He ignored the remark. “I know you’re not a vegetarian. On the menu tonight is vichyssoise, followed by fresh sea bass, grilled, potatoes, a mixed salad, and an assortment of fruit to follow. If you don’t care for the fish, there are lamb chops.”
“You sound like a waiter, but no, it will suit very well indeed.”
“Actually, I’m the cook. Would you care for a white wine?”
“No, claret would calm my nerves, and I’ve never subscribed to the idea that you should drink red or white because the food dictates it. I drink to suit me.”
“But, of course, Countess.” He half-bowed in a slightly mocking way and moved to the door.
As he opened it, she said, “And David?”
He turned. “Yes, Countess.”
“ ‘As you like Eliot so much, here’s a quote from The Waste Land for you.”’
“And what would that be, Countess?”
“ ‘I think we are in rats’ alley where the dead men lost their bones.”’
He stopped smiling, turned, opened the door, and went out, closing it. The key clicked in the lock, and suddenly she was afraid.
FOUR
Salinas was a scattering of houses, a harbor enclosed by two jetties and jammed with small fishing boats. Luigi drove along the waterfront and stopped outside the establishment with the sign over the door that said English Café.