Authors: Arthur Hailey
Well, his knowledgeable bed partner had been right, and there had come a
day . . . But again he didn't want to think about it, and pushed the image
away just as Vivien came into the bedroom, carrying a tray with morning
tea
.
She was in her mid-forties, with angular, strong features and straight
black hair, now streaked with gray. While neither beautiful nor
conventionally pretty, she was warm, easygoing and generous. Vivien had
been widowed before Partridge knew her and he gathered the marriage had not
been good, though she rarely talked about it. She had one child, a daughter
in Vancouver. The daughter occasionally stayed here, though never when
Partridge was expected
.
Partridge was fond of Vivien though not in love with her, and had known her
long enough to be aware he never would be.
He suspected that Vivien was in love with him and would love him more if he encouraged it. But as it was, she accepted the relationship they had
.
While he sipped his tea, Vivien regarded Partridge quizzically, noting that
his normally lanky figure was thinner than it should be; also, despite a
certain boyishness he still retained, his face showed lines of strain and
tiredness. His unruly shock of fair hair, now noticeably grayer, was in
need of trimming
.
Aware of her appraisal, Partridge asked, "Well, what's the verdict
?
”
Vivien shook her head in mock despair
.”
Just look at you! I send you off
healthy and fit. Two and a half months later you come back looking tired
,
pale and underfed
.”
"I know, Viv
.”
He grimaced
.”
It's the life I lead. There's too much
pressure, lousy hours, junk food and booze
.”
Then, with a smile, "So here
I am, a mess as usual. What can you do for me
?
”
She said, with a mixture of affection and firmness, "First I'll give you
a good healthful breakfast. You can stay in bed-I'll bring it to you. For
other meals you'll have nutritious things like fish and fowl, green
vegetables, fresh fruit. Right after breakfast I'm going to trim your hair
.
Later, I'm taking you for a sauna and massage-I've already made the
appointment
.”
Partridge lay back and threw up his hands
.”
I love it
!”
Vivien went on, "Tomorrow, I figured you'll want to see your old cronies
at the CBC-you usually do. But in the evening I have tickets for an
all-Mozart concert in Toronto at Roy Thomson Hall. You can let the music
wash over you. I know you like that. Apart from all that, you'll rest or
do whatever you wish
.”
She shrugged
.”
Maybe in between those other things
you'll feel like making love. You tried last night but were too tired. You
fell asleep
.”
For a moment Partridge felt more gratitude for Vivien than he had ever felt
before. She was rock-solid, a refuge. Late last night, when his flight
finally arrived at Toronto Airport, she had been patiently waiting, then
had brought him here
.
He asked, "Don't you have to work
?
”
"I had some vacation due. I've arranged to take it, starting today. One
of the other nurses will fill in for me
.”
He told her, "Viv, you're one in a million
.”
When Vivien had gone and he could hear her preparing breakfast
,
Partridge's thoughts returned to yesterday
.
There had been that congratulatory call-they had paged him for it in the
DFW terminal-from Crawford Sloane
.
Crawf had sounded awkward, as he often was when they talked. There were
times when Partridge wanted to say, "Look, Crawf, if you think I have any
grudge against you-about Jessica or your job or anything, forget it! I
haven't and I never did
.”
But he knew that kind of remark would strain
their relationship even more, and probably Crawf would never believe it
anyway
.
In Vietnam, Partridge had known perfectly well that Sloane was taking
only short air trips so he could hang around Saigon and get on CBA
network news as often as possible. But Partridge hadn't cared then, and
still didn't. He had his own priorities. One of them could even be called
an addiction-the addiction to the sights and sounds of war
.
Wa
r . . . the bloody bedlam of battle . . . the thunder and flame of big
artillery, the whistle scream and awesome crump of falling bombs . .
.
the stentorian chatter of machine guns when you didn't know who was
firing at whom or from where . . . the near-sensuous thrill of being
under attack, despite fear that set you trembling . . . all of it
fascinated Partridge, set his adrenaline flowing, his other juices
running . .
.
He discovered the feeling first in 'Nam, his initial war experience. It
had been with him ever since. More than once he had told himself, Face
it-you love it; then acknowledged, Yes, I do, and a stupid son of a bitch
I am
.
Stupid or not, he had never objected to being sent to wars by CBA
.
Partridge knew that among his colleagues he was referred to as a
"bang-bang
,”
the slightly contemptuous name for a TV correspondent
addicted to war-a worse addiction, it was sometimes said, than to heroin
or cocaine and with a fin
al ending almost as predictable
But they also knew at CBA News headquarters-which was what mattered
most-that for that kind of news coverage, Harry Partridge was the best
.
Therefore he had not been overly concerned when Sloane won the National
Evening News anchor chair. Like every news correspondent, Partridge had
had ideas about getting that top
of-the-pile appointment, but by the time
it happened to Sloane, Partridge was enjoying himself so much it didn't
matter
.
Strangely, though, the question of the anchorman's job had come up
recently and unexpectedly. Two weeks ago, during what Chuck Insen warned
was "a delicate private conversation
,”
the executive producer confided
to Partridge that there might be major changes soon in the National
Evening News
.”
If that happens
,”
Insen had asked, "would you be
interested in coming in from the cold and anchoring? You do it damn
well
.”
Partridge had been so surprised that he hadn't known how to respond. Then
Insen had said, "You don't have to answer now. I just want you to think
about it in case I come back to you later
.”
Subsequently, through his own inside contacts, Partridge had learned of
the ongoing power struggle between Chuck Insen and Crawford Sloane. But
even if Insen won, which seemed unlikely, Partridge doubted if permanent
anchoring was something he would want or could even endure. Especially
,
he told himself half mockingly, when in so many places of the world there
was still the sound of gunfire to be heard and followed
.
Inevitably, when thinking in a personal way about Crawford Sloane, there
was always the memory of Jessica, though it was never more than memory
because there was nothing between them now, not even occasional
communication, and they seldom met socially-perhaps only once or twice
a year. Nor had Partridge ever blamed Sloane for his loss of Jessica
,
having recognized that his own foolish judgment was the cause. When he
could have married her, Partridge had decided not to, so Sloane simply
stepped in, proving himself the wiser of the two, with a better sense of
values at that time . .
.
Vivien reappeared in the apartment bedroom, bringing
breakfast in stages. It was, as she had promised, a healthful meal: freshly squeezed orange juice, thick hot porridge with brown sugar and milk, followed by poached eggs on whole wheat toast, strong black coffee, the beans freshly ground, and finally more toast and Alberta honey
.
The thoughtfulness about the honey especially touched Partridge. It
reminded him, as it was intended to, of his native province where he made
his start in journalism on local radio. He remembered telling Vivien that
he had worked for what was known as a 20/20 radio station; it meant that
rock 'n' roll, the staple programming, was interrupted every twenty minutes
by a few shouted news headlines ripped from the AP wire. A young Harry
Partridge had done the shouting. He smiled at the recollection; it seemed
a long time ago
.
After breakfast, prowling around the apartment in pajamas, he observed
,
"This place is getting tacky. It needs repainting and new furniture
.”
"I know
,”
Vivien acknowledged
.”
I've been after the building owners about
repainting. But they say this apartment isn't due to have money spent on
it
.”
"Screw 'em! Do it without the owners. You find a painter and order
whatever's needed. I'll leave enough money before I go.,
,
"You're always generous about that
,”
she said; then added, "do you still
have that wonderful arrangement where you don't pay income tax
?
”
He grinned
.”
Sure do
.”
"To anybody, anywhere
?
”
"Not to anyone, and it's perfectly legal and honest. I don't file any
income tax return, don't have to. Saves a lot of time and money
.”
"I've never understood how you manage it
.”
"I don't mind telling you
,”
he said, "though normally I don't talk about
it. People who pay income tax get jealous; that's because misery likes
company
.”
The critical factor, he explained, was being a Canadian citizen, using a
Canadian passport, and working overseas
.”
What a lot of people don't re
alize is that the United States
is the only major country in the world that taxes its citizens no matter where they live. Even when Americans reside outside the U.S., they still get taxed by Uncle Sam. Canada doesn't do that. Canadians who move out of the country aren't liable for Canadian taxes, and once the revenue service is satisfied you're gone, they've no further interest in you. The British are the same
.”
He continued, "The way it works is that CDA News pays my salary each
month into a New York account I have at Chase Manhattan. From there I
move the money to accounts in other countries-the Bahamas, Singapore, the
Ch
annel Islands, where savings can
interest, totally tax-free
.”
"What about taxes in countries you go to-those you work in
?
”
“A
s a TV correspondent I'm never in one place long enough to be liable
for tax. That even includes the U.S., provided I'm there no more than 120
days a year, and you can be sure I never stay that long. As for Canada
,
I don't have a domicile here, not even this one. This is solely your
place, Viv, as we both know
.”
Partridge added, "The important thing is not to cheat-tax evasion's not
only illegal, it's stupid and not worth the risk. Tax avoidance is quite
different He stopped
.”
Hold it! I have something here
.”
Partridge produced a wallet and from it extracted a folded, well-fingered
news clipping
.”
This is from a 1934 decision by Judge Learned Hand, one
of America's great jurists. It's been used by other judges many times
.”