A loosening followed quickly, leaving my finger looking as if it had been threaded. I got the idea. I unscrewed the ring along the track that had been pressed into my flesh. Frakir moved again as if to snag it and I stroked her.
“Okay,” I said. “’Thanks. Return.”
There seemed a moment of hesitation, but my will proved sufficient without a more formal command. She retreated back across my hand, rewound herself about my wrist, and faded.
I finished up in there and returned to the bar. I passed Luke his ring as I seated myself, and took a sip of beer. “How’d you get it off?” he asked.
“A bit of soap,” I answered.
He wrapped it in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. “Guess I can’t take your money for it, then.”
“Guess not. Aren’t you going to wear it?”
“No, it’s a present. You know, I hardly expected you to make the scene here,” he commented, scooping a handful of peanuts from a bowl that had appeared in my absence. “I thought maybe you’d just call when you got my message, and we could set something up for later. Glad you did, though. Who knows when later might have been. See, I had some plans that started moving faster than I’d thought they would-and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I nodded.
“I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about, too.”
He returned my nod.
I had decided back in the lavatory definitely to refrain from mentioning Martinez yet, and the first things he had said and implied. Although the entire setup did not sound as if it involved anything in which I had any interest any longer, I always feel more secure in talking with anyone-even friends-when I have at least a little special information they don’t know r have. So I decided to keep it that way for now.
“So let’s be civilized and hold everything important till after dinner,” he said, slowly shredding his napkin and wadding the pieces, “and go somewhere we can talk in private then.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “Want to eat here?” He shook his head. .
“I’ve been eating here. It’s good, but I want a change. I had my heart set on eating at a place around the corner. Let me go and see if they’ve got a table.”
“Okay.” He gulped the rest of his drink and departed.
. . . And then the mention of Amber. Who the hell was Martinez? It was more than a little necessary that I learn this, because it was obvious to me that he was something other than he appeared to be. His final words had been in Thari, my native tongue. How this could be and why it should be, I had no idea. I cursed my own inertia, at having let the S situation slide for so long. It was purely a result of my arrogance. I’d never anticipated the convoluted mess the affair would become. Served me right, though I didn’t appreciate the service.
“Okay,” Luke said, rounding the corner, digging into his pocket, and tossing some money on the table. “We’ve got a reservation. Drink up, and let’s take a walk.”
I finished, stood and followed him. He led me through the corridors and. back to the lobby, then out and along a hallway to the rear. We emerged into a balmy evening and crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk that ran along Guadaloupe Street. From there it was only a short distance to the place where it intersected with Alameda. We crossed twice there and strolled on past a big church, then turned right at the next comer. Luke pointed out a restaurant called La Tertulia across the street a short distance ahead.
“There,” he said.
We crossed over and found our way to the entrance. It was a low adobe building, Spanish, venerable, and somewhat elegant inside. We went through a pitcher of sangria, orders of pollo adova, bread puddings, and many cups of coffee, keeping our agreement not to speak of anything serious during dinner.
During the course of the meal Luke was greeted twice, by different guys passing through the room, both of whom paused at the table to pass a few pleasantries.