Ultimate Issue (7 page)

What you should do. an inner voice told him, is go up to your room on the third floor, go to bed, read up the law on adultery, and have an early night.

“One more,” ordered Verago.

The barman only started taking notice of his customers when an officer had three or more double scotches. An Officer of the Day roamed round the Columbia Club, and it tended to be the barman who got blamed if there was trouble.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his eyes signaling caution.

The big man at her table whispered something to her and got up. He walked out of the bar. She sat, still with a drink, smoking a cigarette.

The bastard’s coming back, thought Verago. Probably just gone to the men’s room, but he’ll be back. So what?

Verago slid off his stool, glass in hand, and moved between the groups to her table.

“Hello,” he said.

The violet eyes looked up at him and she gave a smile. Maybe it was the scotch, but it seemed to him to be a welcoming smile.

“Why, Captain Verago …”

He looked at the empty chair.

“Do sit down,” she invited.

“I don’t want to intrude,” he lied. “I know you’re with somebody.”

“That’s all right,” she said. She offered no other explanation.

“Well, in that case….”

He sat down on the other man’s chair, feeling a little awkward.

43

“Can I get you a drink?” he volunteered.

“Tequila sunrise,” she said.

He signaled a waiter and gave the order.

“And a double scotch for me,” he added.

“How’s the room?” she asked.

‘The roomy” Then he realized. “Oh, here? The room’s fined’

“Good. That’s the least we can do for you. And I’ve ordered the car for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Laurie.” He added a little apologetically, “I don’t know your name….”

“Czeslaw,” she said.

“Czeslaw?”

“It’s Polish. My folks were Polish.”

“Laurie’s very American.”

She stiffened. “I’m American, Captain.”

“Pardon me,” he said. “And listen, my name’s Tony. Okay?”

“Hi, Tony.” She smiled, and he felt warm. He didn’t think it was just the whisky.

He followed the sudden direction of her eyes and saw the burly man making his way toward their table.

Shit, thought Verago.

“Clyde,” she said, as Verago reluctantly stood up. “This is Captain Verago. He’s over from Germany.”

The man offered his hand. “Clyde Unterberg,” he said.

Verago took it. The man had a firm grip.

“Glad to meet you,” said Verago. He was doing a lot of lying. “I’m sorry, I’ve taken your chair….”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Unterberg. He reached over and pulled a chair across from the next table, braving the hostile look of a naval commander.

“Captain Verago is here to attend a courtmartial,” said Laurie.

“Is that so? Not yours, I hope?” And Unterberg laughed.

“I’m defending,” said Verago, unsmiling. “A man who’s accused of a ridiculous charge.”

Laurie put out her cigarette.

“Oh? What’s that?” asked Unterberg.

“Adultery.”

“You think adultery is ridiculous, Captain?”

“I think to try a man for it and send him to jail is ridiculous.”

44

“Well,” said Unterberg, “maybe with you defending him, he won’t go to jail.”

Verago sniffed. “Where the hell are our drinks?” he demanded. He gestured to the waiter. “What’s yours, Clyde?”

“I like the same as you. Scotch.”

Verago was surprised that Unterberg knew what he drank.

“Where is this trial going to take place?” inquired Unterberg.

“Laconbury,” said Verago.

“That’s air force.” Unterberg shook his head. “What’s an army lawyer doing at an air force trial?”

“Tony’s been specially requested by the accused,” intervened Laurie.

“You must have some reputation,” said Unterberg. “All the way from Germany! Or do you know the man?”

“Never met him, never even heard of him,” said Verago.

“But you like fighting lost causes, don’t you?” Unterberg smiled.

Again, Verago had a moment of unease. “Are you in the service?” he asked.

“Clyde’s a civilian,” said Laurie, as the drinks came.

“Technician?”

“Sort of,” said Laurie.

“Lockheed?”

Instead of answering, Unterberg lifted his glass.

“Success,” he toasted. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“As long as it takes.” said Verago.

“Well, good luck.” He finished his drink and pushed back his chair. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to drive to High Wycombe tonight. I’ll give you a call, Laurie.” He pecked her cheek. Then he nodded to Verago. “Nice to have met you, Tony.”

Something doesn’t fit, thought Verago, as Unterberg made his exit. It doesn’t seem right. Had he really planned to leave her on her own and take off? What if he hadn’t shown up? Would Unterberg still have left her high and dry? Why the hell was he leaving the stage clear for somebody else?

“You’re not very talkative, Tony,” said Laurie. It seemed to him her eyes were slightly mocking. “Something on your mind?”

45

“What does he really do?” asked Verago.

“Clyde?”

He nodded.

“He’s a spook,” she said quietly.

Suddenly he looked at her in a new light.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For playing it straight.”

“Playing what straight?” she asked, surprised. “Telling you he’s a spook? Well, he is, isn’t he?”

“Who for? Who with?”

“Come on, Tony,” she said, and again she was slightly mocking. “Would I know?” She smiled. “He’s not with the Russians, if that’s what you mean,” she said, laughing.

The idea really amused her.

“CIA? OSI? he pressed. “Some outfit like that?” He frowned. “How do you know him?”

“Captain Verago,” she said, sham serious, “this is not a courtroom, I’m not on the stand, and you’re off duty. Agreed?”

Damn it, she’s attractive, he thought. She’s not beautiful, she’s got more than that going for her.

He wished the chair was closer to her.

“Remember what you said today?” he asked.

She shook her head. “What?”

“You said ‘London can be a lot of fun at night.’”

“You want to go sightseeing right now?” she teased him. “The pubs will be closed.”

“I didn’t have pubs in mind.”

The almondshaped eyes flickered. “What do you have in mind?”

“I leave that to you,” said Verago.

London

As Alex handed Daventry his drink he suddenly asked her, “You remember the Howards? I met their daughter today.”

“Oh?” said Alex. “And how is Serena?” She had a fantastic memory for names. She had trained it. She noted every address and phone number and kept a special book with dozens of people’s birthdays in it.

“Fine,” he replied casually. It seemed to him his tone was almost too casual.

“What’s she doing now?”

“She didn’t say.”

46

“Wasn’t she doing some modeling? At Fortnum’s?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’s got a very nice figure.” She took some potato chips, then offered Daventry the glass dish. “Which I won’t have if I go on nibbling these. Do you want one?”

He shook his head as he studied her. “You don’t have to worry, Alex,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. She worked hard at keeping slim, because she knew he disliked fat women.

“They’re nice people, the Howards.” Her U-turn back to the subject startled him slightly.

“Yes,” he said rather flatly.

“Don’t say it.” Alex smiled. “Too cocktail partyish for you. They bore you.”

“Alex, I don’t even know them well enough for that.”

“I’d have thought Serena would have been married by now,” she remarked, almost to herself.

He was curious. “Why?”

“Well,” said Alex, “she’s very attractive, isn’t she? I shouldn’t imagine she’d have any difficulty finding somebody. Don’t you agreed”

“Yes, I suppose so. If she wants to.”

“She didn’t strike me as being the career-girl type.”

It was the end of Serena as a topic of conversation. Alex changed the subject with an announcement she had been saving up.

“By the way, I got the tickets. For the Kirov.” Her voice was triumphant.

The Kirov season at Covent Garden was the big sensation. There were all-night lines at the box office, and getting seats was a major achievement.

“How did you manage that?” asked Daventry.

“Ah.” Alex enjoyed playing it mysteriously. “I’ve got hidden talents.”

“When are we going?” he inquired.

“Next Tuesday. Put it in your book now. Kolpakov is dancing Giselle. I think you’ll enjoy it,” she said encouragingly. “They’ve got a dancer called Nureyev, and he’s supposed to be fantastic. If only we had somebody like that over here. I think I’ll try for Sleeping Beauty as well,” Alex’s voice continued, as if from a distance. “We might as well make the most of it while the Kirov’s in London, don’t you think?”

“Yes, why not?” he muttered, but he hardly heard her.

47

His mind was on his lunch date the following day. He wished he knew how to get out of it.

The trouble was that Gerald Daventry was a coward.

London

Laurie lived in a furnished apartment in a smart block of flats in Sloane Avenue. It was an oppressively small place, almost cramped, but she had given it some personal touches. Plants by the window, a couple of modernistic prints, a ceramic figure of a jester. They helped, but it was still an anonymous, lonely habitation.

“I’ll fix you a drink,” she said, and disappeared in the tiny kitchen.

On top of a bookcase was the framed photograph of a lieutenant in the Marine Corps.

“That’s my brother,” she said, coming in with a tray, a bottle of scotch, an ice bucket, and two glasses on it. “He won the Bronze Star in Korea.”

“Where is he now?” he asked.

“Naples,” she said, pouring the drinks. The ice clinked.

“Your only brother?”

She nodded. “I have a sister, but she’s a bitch.”

He wanted to know more, but her tone was uninviting. Verago tasted the whisky with relish. It was good, well matured, at least twelve years old. He appreciated it. The effects of the drinks earlier had worn off in the cab ride to her place.

“Where’s your home, Laurie?”

“Chicago,” she said. “What about you?”

“New York.” He didn’t amplify. “So tell me, what brought you over here?”

“You are nosey, Gaptain Verago,” she said. “They sent me here. I’m a GS-eight, right. I work for the Department of the Air Force, I go where I’m sent. Satisfied?”

She got up, went over to a drawer in the sideboard, and brought out a box of cigars. She held it out to him.

“You like Upmans?”

He took one, incised the end with his nail, and lit it. So, she kept cigars in her apartment. All the home comforts for a man. What man? The spook? Her boss?

She put the box of cigars back in the drawer.

“You won’t like Laconbury,” she said unexpectedly. She had kicked off her shoes.

“Oh? What’s wrong with it?”

“You’ll find out.”

48

That annoyed him. “I don’t go for riddles, Laurie. What’s wrong with Laconbury?”

“You ever heard of Detachment Seven?”

“No.”

She leaned across and poured him another slug of whisky. “How do you defend a man charged with adultery, Tony?” she asked.

“Detachment seven,” he insisted. “What about it? What is it?”

“Oh, I just wondered what you had heard of it,” she said dismissively. She raised her glass. “Salut.”

They both drank. Then she repeated the question: “You still haven’t told me. How do you set about defending a man accused of adultery?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious. We don’t get many adultery cases in the offlce.”

“Well,” said Verago slowly, “there’s only one defence. That he didn’t do it. Ii you can prove that he didn’t sleep with the other woman, or that if he did, he wasn’t married, and so he didn’t commit adultery.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“You put your money on mitigation. You plead an unhappy marriage, you say it’s all washed up anyway, the affair hasn’t harmed anybody, we’re all men of the world, and isn’t it kind of inhuman to send a guy to jail for trying to Old a little happiness with somebody else.”

She pulled a face. “You make my heart break,” she said.

“I know. It rarely works,” he admitted ruefully.

The phone rang. It startled him. He looked at his watch. It was 1 A.M.

“Excuse me,” she said, uncurled herself from the armchair, and went to the coffee table by the window where the phone was and picked it up.

“Hello,” she said, and listened.

He wondered who would call her at this time. Mr. Unterberg perhaps? To tell her he’d arrived at High Wycombe and was costly tucked in?

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” she said.

She glanced at Verago as she spoke. Then she turned her back.

“No, I appreciate that,” he heard her say. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” she said, and hung up.

“That was your favorite man,” she announced, settling herself back into the armchair.

49

“Eh?”

“Colonel Kincaid.”

“Really?”

She laughed. “Oh, come on, Tony, you’re dying to know why my boss should call me at home at” she glanced at her wristwatch “at one o’clock in the morning.”

“It’s none of my business, Laurie,” he said stiffly. “Anyway, I think I ought to go.”

“It was about you,” she said.

He sat very still. “Me?”

“He asked me to make sure that as soon as I get to the office in the morning I send a priority TWX to USAREUR. He wants your personnel file.”

“What the hell for?”

“He didn’t say, but I guess the colonel wants to know all about you.”

The violet eyes stared straight at him. “I guess so do I,” she added.

“It’s very late,” he muttered, thickly.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

“mere?” he repeated stupidly.

“You can be back at the club for breakfast,” she assured him.

Jesus, he thought, we haven’t even touched each other. We haven’t even kissed. We haven’t … and here she is inviting me into the sack with her.