by Andrew Gross
“Why, evidence, of course,” he said. He put his hand out and with the other, patted me firmly on the back.
“I will,” I said, and shook his hand. Then I headed out the door.
22
I was elated. I felt vindicated. Someone finally believed me. Someone who could actually do something about it. And take this to the right people. People who could prove my suspicions. I left knowing I had done the right thing.
Though it occurred to me, other than through Noelle, I knew nothing at all about Warren Latimer.
That night I stared over and over at his fancy card. United States Department of State. Director. Immigration Affairs. It was all on the up and up.
And I wondered, just how had he and Noelle met?
If I did what he asked me to do, “get more specific” on what I had said, put names to my story, give up the Bauers, I realized I’d be putting a lot of my life in his hands. Foremost, my relationship with my wife and daughter. Noelle claimed he was discreet, and I trusted her. In his job you’d have to be. And that he was someone who would know precisely what to do. Which I trusted too.
But what if the whole thing fell down in pieces all around me? What if Feds rushed in, put the Bauers in cuffs, and rummaged through the apartment? Turned their whole lives upside down, and then found nothing?
Nothing but two law-abiding people who, regardless of their political opinions, had not committed a crime.
Surely Liz and Emma would never forgive me for that.
For the embarrassment caused to their friends.
For ignoring Liz’s warnings to put my own cocksure theories aside.
So the next day I called the number on Latimer’s card. 202-331-4000. I needed to know that the State Department man was even who he claimed to be. That I wasn’t dealing with a fraud.
After three short rings, an operator answered. “United States Department of State.”
I asked for Latimer’s extension. “3219, please.”
“Hold the line while I connect you.”
I still didn’t know exactly what he had done for Noelle, and I admit, that had me thinking. She had said, You are not the only one whose past has been difficult, Charles. She was a person of secrets too. How exactly had their paths crossed? What had Latimer done for her? I wanted to know everything about her. I had to admit, she was beginning to captivate me. In war, we all have stories.…
“Department of Immigrant Affairs.” A secretary finally picked up. “Mr. Latimer’s office.”
“Mr. Latimer, please.”
So far so good.
“Mr. Latimer will be out of the office today,” the secretary said, putting me at ease. He had told me he would be in New York another day. “He’s not expected to return until tomorrow. Can I take a message, please?”
I was about to leave my name, when suddenly a wave of cautiousness hit me. That perhaps I was getting ahead of myself. That in bringing in the Feds, I’d be putting myself on the line. With my history and all the things I’d done wrong. I grew scared. Just like Monahan, they might not believe me. So I merely cleared my throat and said back, “No, I’ll call him then, thank you,” and put the phone back on the line.
I was sweating. I felt like I had one foot dangling over a ledge and only caught myself at the last instant.
But at least now I knew that he was for real.
* * *
That night I took Noelle out to the Old Heidelberg café in Yorkville. It was about the only place I knew, other than the Horn & Hardart near my room in Brooklyn, where I stood the chance of being treated like a big shot. I wanted to thank her for setting me up with someone as important as her friend in Washington. And I admit, I was hoping to impress her as well.
We sat at a table manned by my old waiter, Karl.
We met outside the restaurant, and this time the kiss on my cheek when she came up to me seemed a lot more real.
“Thank you for introducing me to Mr. Latimer,” I said after we were seated. She was wearing a fitted green dress with a floral brooch above her breast. Her short hair was brushed out with curls around her ears.
“It’s my pleasure. He’s a very important man,” Noelle replied. “I am sure he can help you. We can help each other like we said. I’m happy to.”
“I’m thinking about what he asked of me. I held some things back from him,” I admitted. “It’s difficult.”
“I understand, Charles. It is difficult to find yourself in a situation where you are giving evidence against someone.”
“That’s not it. Not exactly. It’s Liz. My wife. She’s made it clear she thinks I’ve crossed the line on this. She’s asked me not to see my daughter for a while. Doing this would only make things worse.”
“Oh.” Noelle’s brown eyes grew halting. I could see sadness in them. “Why?”
“Because I involved Emma. Because I’m pointing the finger at their friends. Who she believes in strongly. I know she’ll eventually give in. I mean, at some point she has to see—Emma needs me. She adores our time together. But it’s a part of the divorce proceeding now. I just wish I could put something indisputable in front of her that proves I’m not completely crazy.”
“You will.” Noelle reached across for my hand. “You’re not crazy. It will all work out, Charles. I have a sense about these things.”
I squeezed her hand back. “Well, so far you certainly seem to.”
That made her smile.
“So how did your wife find out,” Noelle inquired, “about being inside her friend’s apartment, if you don’t mind me asking? Maybe it was that snoopy housekeeper you mentioned?”
“Oh, did I tell you about Mrs. Shearer?” I said. I honestly couldn’t recall.
“Yes, you told me about her when you described being inside your neighbor’s apartment…,” Noelle reminded me.
“Oh. Anyway, no, it wasn’t her. It was Emma. She was in their apartment the other day and asked whether I’d found the hat I was looking for, which was the flimsy excuse I made up for why I was snooping around in there. Anyway, I appreciate your optimism, Noelle. It makes it easier for me.”
“A daughter needs her father, Charles. And I’m sure she loves you. So have the police not been back in touch with you?” she asked.
I hesitated. I truly didn’t want to involve her in any more of this. I wanted to keep her separate. Look how that had gone with Emma. Still, I guess Noelle was already involved. Through Warren Latimer. And in truth, I was dying to know how their paths had crossed too.
“You know you can talk to me about this too,” she said, looking deeply at me. “I can keep a secret. And sometimes a woman’s perspective can go a long way to make things clearer.”
“Yes, on that I agree. Anyway, no, the police haven’t been back in touch with me yet. I have the feeling my report is on the bottom of a large, undisturbed pile.”
“Well, they will.” She nodded and squeezed my hand again. “You’ll see. This will all work out. I know it. And you will be a big hero, Charles Mossman.” She smiled. “You will get more ‘specific’ soon.”
I stared at her. The adorable curls around her ears. Her sparkling and liquid green eyes. I felt myself falling a bit. Maybe more than a bit. And I couldn’t grab on to anything to stop myself. I didn’t have much of a job, I was getting divorced, and my past didn’t exactly recommend anyone for me. Still, I felt Noelle was looking past all that. “Can I do something forward?” I asked.
“Forward?” She smiled. “And why not?”
“You won’t take offense?”
“Offense? From you, Charles? Of course not.”
I leaned toward her and placed a kiss softly on her lips. They parted slightly, willing, and she didn’t pull back. Not one bit. I realized I’d wanted to do this since the first time I saw her. I didn’t want it to end. When I finally pulled away, she just looked back at me and smiled, eyes twinkling. “And why would I take offense at just a kiss?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe it was too early
. This is only our third time together. And people might be looking.”
“Well, I think we should do something to celebrate this time, don’t you?”
“Excellent idea. What?”
“How about a toast of champagne. You said you would have one with me one day. Tonight would be perfect.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t had a taste of liquor in over two years. Still, one little glass of champagne.… On such an occasion.
“Why not?” I agreed. I raised my hand and motioned to Karl, who came over.
“Two glasses of champagne,” I said. “And try not to break the bank, Karl. But something nice.”
“Yes, Mr. Mossman.” He smiled, pleased. “I know just the thing.”
“And no one is looking, Charles.” Noelle smiled, her hand over mine.
Our champagne came. We toasted. “France’s loss is my gain,” I said. And of course, one became two. It was inevitable. I didn’t want this dinner to end. I felt my head swimming a bit. Not just from the alcohol, but from the moment. Being with her. The tingling I was feeling all over. Afterward, we nuzzled up close to each other in the cab. She looked up at me and I gave her another kiss.
“Where shall we go?” I said. I was embarrassed to invite her home to my sparse room. A chair, a dresser, and a bed. A bathroom down the hall. “Maybe a nightclub?” I was prepared to spend all of my savings if it could keep this night going.
“My roommate is away.” She looked up at me and smiled coyly. “Twentieth Street and Second Avenue,” she told the cabbie, before I could even agree.
23
We were kissing as soon as we got into her apartment.
Before.
On the street, as soon as we got out of the cab, entwined in each other’s arms. Stumbling up the two flights of stairs, laughing and giggling more than saying anything. Unlocking her door and then tripping awkwardly around in the dark, and finally tumbling onto the couch.
“I don’t want to do the wrong thing,” I said, my hands all over her. Noelle’s body was small and tight and I felt the contours of her breasts under her dress and she didn’t stop me. “I don’t know anything about you,” I said.
“You know all you need to know, Charles Mossman,” she said.
Though part of me looked back at her and thought, That isn’t true.
I unzipped the back of her dress. She put up her arms and let it wiggle to the floor.
“You’re not, Charles. You’re not doing the wrong thing at all,” she said in her bra and girdle. Her body was just as inviting as I’d imagined. Diminutive and shapely and tight. She put my hand on her breast and met my eyes, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in them. “You’re not.”
I hadn’t been with a ton of women. Just three before Liz, and two were drunken one-night stands in college. Liz had been my best friend, but she was still a little shy and reserved when it came to sex. As was I, if truth be told.
But Noelle … She opened my belt and took down my drawers. She reached down and put her hand on me. I sprang completely alive. She eased me over to the bed and stood in front of me.
I wanted to know every secret she held; every piece of her she had withheld from me; every part of her past that had brought her here and brought us together.
“Charles Mossman…,” she murmured, looking into my eyes, inviting me on.
“Noelle Brisson.” I looked back at her. I sat, pulled her girdle down, held her by the waist, and eased her onto my lap.
“Wait,” she said, with a cat’s-eyed smile, putting up a finger. She stroked me gently, urging me on, then smiled, nuzzled herself knowingly between my legs, and bent her head down over me.
* * *
After, we lay there, in the tousled sheets. I felt her steady breathing next to me as she napped. A pure, silent sleep. I wrapped my arm around her breasts and felt the sheen of sweat on her sleeping body and nuzzled myself against her rump.
I was falling for her, I knew.
Falling—and nothing to catch hold of me as I did.
I had no idea how fate had interceded to bring Noelle into my life. A life that had been barren of love and empty of feeling for so long. In which I felt unworthy to allow myself to feel anything good. How was I so lucky? Le grand vent … I thought back with a smile. A gust of wind, her pages scattering. “My dissertation,” she’d cried out. And I was there.
I looked around at the sparsely decorated room. It was strange, I didn’t see any personal belongings anywhere. Of course, she shared it with a friend, and clearly they rented it as transients just as I rented mine. Month to month. Everything in it came with the lease. She had probably come here with only a small suitcase of clothes and her papers. Still, I was surprised not to see a single photograph, not even of her parents back in France. Who were now in a camp somewhere. All I knew was that she had come into my life and reignited it with joy and now passion.
With possibility.
And I didn’t want to sit in judgment of even a sliver of it. I was just happy, grateful, that it had happened.
I thought back on the evening we’d just spent. That first kiss when she came up to me on the sidewalk. Did she know then where it would lead? Had she wanted this too? I thought, I’d broken my vow with those toasts of champagne, my first drinks of alcohol since that fateful night in the bar. God would forgive me. I smiled. He had to, if He knew it would lead to something this perfect. Snuggling next to her in the cab, barely uttering a word, our bodies tingling with hushed anticipation of what would happen next.
Still, something nagged at me. A tremor pulsing deep inside. Like that devious voice of temptation that had long been silent, reappearing back on my shoulder. Telling me it couldn’t last, what I was feeling. I’d screw it up. Somehow. Like I always did.
No, I won’t, not this time.
Maybe it was no more than just the simple fear of trusting that this was truly real.
Lying there, I let my mind drift, and it left Noelle and her sweet, sleeping body, and seemed to settle like a nagging weight on the question of just how much more deeply I should get involved with Latimer. I’d already told the New York police everything I knew. I held nothing back. I thought maybe I could just merely refer Latimer to them and not get myself any deeper.
They could handle it any way they wanted from there.
I was sure that if Liz could only see I was right about the Bauers I could regain her trust. She’d have to let me back into Emma’s life. The Bauers clearly had already moved the transmitter I’d found. And the book by Darwin. The closet was empty, Charlie. That transmitter was the only tangible piece of evidence I had on them. The rest … The rest could all just be put off to my prior run-ins with Nazis, the overzealous machinations of my own vengeful mind.
I knew it was too late for Liz and me. Here, at long last, I finally felt free of her. Free to pursue happiness again. But I did need to make her see I wasn’t making it all up. That I really wasn’t “the old Charlie” again, the one who had let her down so many times. The one who she had grown to distrust.
Yes, it was indeed too late for us … But it wasn’t too late for me and my daughter.
And I had to do whatever I could do to get that back.
Next to me, Noelle stirred, murmuring. “Are you okay, Charles?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m okay,” I said. “I’m perfect. Go back to sleep.” I wrapped my arms around her tighter and inhaled the fresh scent of her perfume.
Whatever I could do.
But as I allowed myself to drift off, a welcoming sleep to calm my worries, something did snake its way into my mind. Like a hidden electrical line, woven through rooms of a large house, something buried deeply in me that maybe Noelle had awakened, which now came alive. I sat up and opened my eyes. Oddly, it took me all the way back to those strips of paper I’d seen in Trudi’s kitchen. Torn, with the edges burnt.
Numbers on them.
Numbers.
And the ones I had stared at that hadn’t been destroyed. That I now saw
again clearly.
128 3 7. 14 12 3. 0300.
I thought back to paging through the Darwin.
December 6. What if it was a date, after all? And a time.
0300.
Three A.M.
What if something was set to happen then? Something big and that only I knew about and could put together.
Why else would they hide the book in the trunk and destroy the message?
What if it was just me who had seen it and knew?
I had two choices, I lay there thinking. I could turn over what I knew to Latimer—and he could pass it on to his people. People who could do something about it. He’s a very important man, Noelle had said.
But in the end, what did I really have? A possible code with nothing tangible to support the charge. The trunk was empty now. The book gone. The burnt strips of paper were long disposed of. I realized that there was no way Latimer could turn this over to anyone, have them review my testimony, in all likelihood have to interview me, then start an investigation into the Bauers—even if they did believe me; even if they did accept my story as told—in time to stop whatever might be happening from taking place.
Today was the 4th. December 6th was in two days.
“You’d be a damn fool,” the voice on my shoulder warned. The voice of reason. Suddenly reappearing. “Look where it’s got you before.”
“Oh, do it,” countered his opposite, my little devil, always urging me on. “It’s the only way to know for sure.”
The Bauers might be up to something. And I was the only one who knew anything might be happening.
Next to me, Noelle nuzzled against me, emerging from sleep again. “Charles, your mind is elsewhere, I think?”
“No, it’s not,” I said, tightening my arms around her. “It’s right here. With you.”
“Good.” She smiled. She wedged her knee between my legs and began to rub it in a slow rhythm against my thigh. In seconds I came alive. She smiled, recognizing it, and eased her hand under the sheet. “In that case,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “perhaps we can consider doing that again.”