The Tide Can't Wait (17 page)

She couldn't stop now, no matter what Tommy said. “He said you and Leon were of the same nationality.”

“No. I was born in San Francisco.”

“He said that you killed Helgos and that you'd kill me the same way.”

There, it was out. She felt dispirited, empty, no longer frightened. If Barr was right, she had been a fool. But if Barr was wrong—and she so wanted Barr to be wrong—then she wasn't a fool at all.

He took his fingers away from where they had rested lightly on the back of her neck. “Let's go upstairs,” he said gently. “Or if you'd rather I took you back to the inn …?”

She wanted to cry. “Let's go upstairs, Tommy.”

They went, his arm strong and sure under her elbow. When she stumbled, he caught her about the waist and they went up that way, she leaning against him.

Tommy helped her off with her wrap and put it with his hat, coat, and stick in the hall. “Another drink?”

“I'd rather have coffee, Tommy.”

He went into the kitchen and returned finally with a pot of coffee and cups on a tray. He poured her a cupful and handed it to her. He chose a chair at an angle to her, where his face was in semi-shadow.

“When Barr told you this, what did you think?” His voice had none of the customary mockery in it.

“I thought it wasn't true—that it couldn't be true.”

“But after you thought it over?”

She nodded, miserable.

“And now you're afraid of me.”

She sipped at her coffee. It was hot and she set down the cup, noticing that her fingers scarcely trembled. He said, “And now you have no one to trust. Not Barr, nor even me.”

She said desperately, “That isn't true, Tommy. I don't believe him; I believe you.”

He said quietly, “But I haven't said anything for you to believe or disbelieve, Lenny.”

She stumbled to her feet and fled into the bath. She was going to be sick. Hurriedly, she ran cold water in the basin. She drank some and splashed more on her face. Slowly the churning in her stomach and the awful lightness in her head settled and began to go.

She didn't trust Tommy; she was afraid of him. He knew she'd lied.

He spoke from beyond the bathroom door. “Lenny, are you all right?”

And then she was sick. She hated herself for this display of cowardice, but she could not make herself stop. When Tommy opened the door and came in, she was hardly aware of him; she was only aware of her sickness.

She awakened, her head throbbing in strong, ragged rhythm behind her closed eyeballs. She opened her eyes slowly and found that the draperies were drawn and the light was dim, almost soothing. She was alone in Tommy's big bed.

Carefully she got up and made her way into the bath. She drank cold water, and washing her face helped, too. By the time she became aware that he had put her to bed in her slip and that it was rumpled and damp from sweat, she felt almost alive again.

She rummaged through her luggage and found clean clothing. She carried it to the bath, where she showered in cool water and rubbed herself down hard. When she was fully dressed, she felt immeasurably better.

She went into the living room. Tommy was not there. His study door was partially open and she peered in. He lay on the daybed-sofa, a blanket half-covering him. Light came into the room through a crack in the draperies and touched his back, bare where the blanket had slid from it.

She could see the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his back as he breathed in sleep. She could also see the ridge of fine blond hair that ran down his spine. His skin was very soft and silky and thin and the network of spidery scars that ran from just below his shoulders to his waist stood out clearly.

She stepped into the room and knelt beside the cot. Scarcely realizing what she did, she put out a hand and ran her fingertips lightly over the scars. They were quite old, she thought, scarcely ridged at all.

Tommy rolled over, immediately wide-awake. He looked down at her and a smile more gentle than she had ever seen from him widened his mouth.

“What a hell of a thing to do to a man in the morning!”

She knew that everything was all right. Tommy would never hurt her. She answered his smile and leaned toward him. She wanted to kiss him, but he avoided her, lifting an arm in mock horror.

“If you feel that good,” he said, “how about rustling us up some breakfast?”

Lenny scrambled to her feet.

“I like my eggs over easy,” he said, and pulled the cover to his chin.

She found his kitchen easy to work in. Bright sun came through the windows beside the breakfast table. She was turning the eggs onto plates when Tommy came in, dressed in gray flannel.

“I don't know why I'm doing this,” she said. “My stomach still hurts.”

He seated her. “The best cure is to show it you're the boss. Stuff it.”

She did, and the more she ate, the better she felt. When they had eaten everything and were down to the last of the coffee, Tommy leaned back and started a cigarette.

She said tentatively, “I'm sorry I was such a fool last night, Tommy.”

“You were, you were,” he agreed, his voice light. “If you'd held still a moment longer, I'd have explained myself.” His bantering manner dropped away and he studied her. “You see, Lenny, I have to be sure, too.”

“And you aren't, Tommy?”

“I am now,” he said. “I think you are, too.”

She nodded, suddenly happy. “I'm very sure, Tommy.”

“You're going to have to prove that very soon,” he said. “Because we're going down to the beach. I want you to see Barr, but don't tell him everything. Tell him just what Leon wanted you to tell him. And then do tonight exactly what Leon asked you to do.”

They were almost to the little village before Lenny felt like speaking. She said, “We aren't helping Leon, are we, Tommy?” “No.”

“All right.” She lapsed into silence again.

They were nearly to the last rise before the village itself and he pulled the car off the road and let the motor idle. “Lenny?” She turned to face him. His rugged features were cold and without humor. “Why, Lenny?”

She reached out and took his hand. “When I said I trusted you, I meant it, Tommy. I don't know why. I just know that I do trust you because you told me you weren't on Leon's side. You don't have to tell me any more unless you want to.”

“What if I'm not helping you—with Barr?”

“I'll still have you, won't I, Tommy?”

“My God,” he whispered. “My God!” And suddenly she was in his arms, those great arms strong enough to crush her, and he was kissing her—her hair and her face and her eyes where the tears were coming down, and her mouth. And he was incredibly gentle.

He stopped at last and she smiled as he handed her a cigarette.

He said, “Those scars I got when I was ten years old. From some friends of Leon. Only Leon was a young man in France, and the men who did it are dead now, so Leon has never known.

“I was with my father in Mexico City when they came into our apartment. We were supposedly there on vacation, but actually we were working—or he was. Like I am now. They took me away and my father followed. They tried to make me talk and when I wouldn't they tried to make him talk. I knew what they were trying to find out. I'd known since I was old enough to understand anything. And I knew they couldn't get me to talk and they couldn't get him to talk—not even when he watched them beat me.

“He died; they whipped him to death. I had a chance to run and I hid out until I could get to a friend. When I was healed, he sent me back to San Francisco to my Uncle Harry—a real uncle—and he raised me.”

“Your mother?”

“My mother died when I was born,” Tommy said. “She and my father were escaping from their country. The party Leon belongs to now took over and my family had to run. Then later his party fell and he had to run. Since then, it's been a struggle, one side against the other. Leon's group wants in by any means possible.”

Lenny said slowly, “And you've spent your life doing this?”

“Doing this.” He grinned suddenly. “Doing what Barr is doing, but for somewhat different reasons. I could have joined the kind of group Barr has, but I don't like being restricted.”

“Then you have no help here?”

“Here—none.” He was silent a moment, sad. “No, I'm here alone. We aren't very many. We can't be as brutal as they; we've lost more men.”

“Not quite as brutal? What about Helgos, Tommy?”

“I did a very unwise thing,” he said. “I bought Helgos. You can't buy loyalty. I sent Helgos to keep Barr busy while I followed Leon, because I thought Leon was going to make his contact that night. I got Snyder away and Barr away and I followed Leon. Only, Helgos had sold out to them—not to Leon, but the men in the launch, the ones who shot at you.

“Leon found out about Helgos and I never got close to him. Instead, I met a blond who could have passed for my cousin. And I was lucky to get away. He had paid Helgos to kill Barr, and when that failed and Helgos was released and was foolish enough to go to my place to escape the blond man, he shot Helgos there and left him for me. I had to get rid of him.”

Lenny shivered. “Do you know what Leon has, Tommy?”

He smiled. “You told me, remember. Microfilm. But I knew what it was before that. And I want it. After I learn what's in it, I'll give it to Barr. In exchange for you,” he added softly.

Strangely, she was no longer concerned about herself. She said, “What you do next? Then this isn't the end—if you win?”

“No. Even if it should be the end for Leon, there are others doing the same thing, some out of patriotism, others out of greed. There's a lot of profit to the right parties to start a revolution. Barr and his men do a good job of keeping the lid on, but they can't be everywhere. Uncle Harry left me a lot of money to use just this way.”

She knew what lay behind his words: he was telling her that he had no right to her because of this. She said, “Why did you introduce me to Leon?”

“I met you and judged you wrong. I thought you might make a go-between. Leon didn't know about me. I was going to use you without letting Leon know about it. Only I fell in love with you.”

“And got to use me, anyway.”

He tried a grin that slipped. “When you showed up, it was wonderful—until I realized you were involved.”

“You didn't know at first?”

“I was afraid of it. But I wasn't sure.”

He put the car into gear and started back onto the road. Lenny said, “Why are you so blond and Leon so dark, Tommy? I thought all people from your country were dark like he is.”

“No. A lot of settlers came from northern Europe—my grandparents on both sides did. They seem to produce blonds.” He grinned. “Does it matter?”

“Nothing matters,” Lenny said, “until tonight is over.”

She was late, but Barr was waiting patiently for her. He looked somber.

She seated herself on the couch.

“All right, yesterday here you talked Leon out of killing me. You got the information we need. I want that information.” His voice was harsh.

“Of course. I'm sorry. Last night I'd had too much wine.”

“Stay sober tonight.”

She waited, her skirt pulled down, her hands in her lap. This reminded her of her interview with the Chief. Right now, Barr looked something like him. A man of great charm, yet in a way an anonymity.

It was different with Tommy. He was dedicated to one thing; Barr moved from job to job. With him, there would be other kinds of Leons, other kinds of Lenny Coreys. This one really didn't matter to him—not personally.

She did not bother to ask him about releasing her. If all went well and Tommy got the microfilm, then she would be all right. If it didn't go well—

“Here's what Leon told me.” She gave him the address of the buttery in Soho and drew a map for him. “Eleven tonight.”

“And you?”

She had been thinking about this. Neither Leon nor Tommy had suggested what she tell Barr she would be doing while, actually, she was to be off on another street, playing her rôle. She said, “I'm Leon's hostage. I'm being held elsewhere as a token of good faith.”

“You mean your telling me all this wasn't part of Leon's game?”

For a moment she was puzzled and then she realized that he hadn't believed her at all. “Rob, I've played your game until I'm sick of it. Now when I bring you what you want, you choose not to accept me in good faith. No matter what I say, you won't believe it.”

She stood up and walked toward the door. She was not angry; she did not pretend to be angry.

“Where are you going?”

She turned. “To London to buy a ticket on the first thing that will take me away from here—out of this mess. You and your Chief can do as you like about it.” Outwardly she was calm. Inside, the fear that he would let her go made her shake. The way Leon had arranged the affair, she and Tommy needed Barr as a decoy.

Barr surprised her. He said quickly, almost humbly, “I'm sorry. I'm jammed up. We can't work this without you.”

She looked at him. He was actually apologizing. Slowly, reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her back to the couch.

“I told you the truth, Rob,” she said, and was amazed that she could lie so well. There was no doubt on his face now. “I was to tell you to go to this other place, where they'll be holding me. While you were getting me out of my predicament, Leon would actually have been making the contact at the buttery. Before you could figure out what was going on, he would have his money, the contact would have the information and they'd both be gone—laughing at you.”

He stroked his jaw. “The actual contact is at eleven at the buttery. And the other—the one I'm supposed to know about?”