Katie looked at Bob. He didn’t catch her eye; he was looking at Liliana; he seemed almost mesmerised. It was the way Liliana ate her food, so slowly, sensuously, the way she raised the glass to her lips. Katie watched her select a peach from the fruit-bowl, peel it, cut it, put out her tongue to lick the fruit before she put it in her mouth. Then Liliana caught Bob’s eye, as if she knew that he was watching her, smiled, and looked at Katie. A tiny shock went through her; for an instant she wondered, why had I never thought of it before? Of course, that’s why he wanted to come to work with Wolf; that is why he has dragged us half way across the world; he is still in love with Liliana.
After supper the man who had been sitting next to Katie took his leave. He smiled at her and kissed her hand. They all went to have coffee on the veranda. It was now quite cool outside. The wind stirred in the palm trees and wrinkled the water of the pool. Liliana poured coffee from a silver pot, passed Katie the tiny cup, and sat down next to her. She said, ‘You have made quite a conquest. Did you like him?’
‘He was charming,’ said Katie. ‘Who was he?’
‘I met his daughter at a party the other day. She denies the stories that are told. That man was chief of police in one of the most repressive eras of the Stroessner regime. Apparently his excesses were so great that even Stroessner couldn’t put up with him and to get him out of the way he was sent abroad as ambassador. Apparently he made a very good one.’
Katie could not disguise the shock which went through her at this. But then, she supposed that was right; even torturers were pleasant men, good fathers, husbands. Liliana sighed; she said, in a low voice, conspiratorial, confiding, ‘I hate this town, there is nothing to do here. I asked to stay in Paris this trip but Wolf makes me go everywhere with him. He doesn‘t trust me. He is so jealous. You know, when Bob came to stay and Wolf was in Stuttgart he made the chauffeur sleep in my bed so that Bob wouldn’t do so. The chauffeur was gay, you see.’ She laughed with amusement.
Katie said, not amused at all, ‘When did Bob visit you?’
‘Oh, it was maybe three months ago. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘He told me he was in Paris, for an interview.’
Liliana laughed. ‘Well I can assure you nothing happened – don’t look like that. What’s the matter? Are you feeling ill?’
‘It’s the heat,’ said Katie, ‘It’s given me a headache. I'm very tired. I think I’ll go up to bed.’
Katie lay in bed in the dark. She could hear the voices still coming up from below. The phrase echoed in her head; ‘Der Himmel ist für alle da.’ The beauty of the phrase could not survive translation. Surely someone who could say this could not be without some imagination? She could not understand what Richter was about. He was not the kind of man who, obsessed only with the details of his project, could not look beyond that to its uses; no, he was only too aware of its potential, and of the fact that he could make a lot of money out of it. But human beings were strange and complicated. Her moral values, which had seemed so simple when she was young, were now all mixed up. Perhaps Richter genuinely thought his rockets would be used only for peaceful purposes, just as Bob – and Mitya, perhaps, too – had believed that nuclear energy could be separated from nuclear bombs. Or perhaps he didn’t care about their use, was interested only in the technical achievement. She rolled over in bed; her head ached. She wished Bob would hurry up and join her, not because she wanted him there so much as because she could imagine him sitting down below, talking to Liliana, only too clearly. She felt suddenly angry; with herself as much as with him. After all, what right did she have to be jealous? She had lied enough to him; it was not as if she had been faithful.
It was two in the morning when Bob finally came up. When he saw she was awake he leaned over and kissed her. Katie did not respond. He crossed the room and took off his shoes; Katie sat up on one elbow. ‘What are we doing here?’ she asked. ‘I can’t stand these people. Sitting down to dinner with Nazis and torturers. Doesn’t it make you feel ashamed?’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Bob, ‘It’s not as bad as that, you've got to face realities. What do you mean about torturers, anyway?’
Katie told him what Liliana had said. Bob frowned. He said, ‘Are you sure that’s true? There are so many of these stories.’
‘Yes, but most of them are true,’ said Katie. ‘And hardly any of these people have been prosecuted. The same people who tortured and had people killed are now sitting behind their desks and getting on with their jobs. Why shouldn’t it be true? I don’t understand you. What are we doing here? I don’t want to have anything to do with these kind of people.’
‘Weiland is the only ex-Nazi –’
‘I said Nazis. There’s no such thing as an ex-Nazi, you should know that.’
‘Weiland is not a war criminal. He’s perfectly respectable, he has lived in the States for years, he worked with NASA –’
‘Please, don’t let’s argue.’ Katie changed the subject abruptly. ‘Liliana told me the Americans are putting pressure on him to stop.’
‘Yes, that’s true. Articles are appearing in the newspapers, questions have been raised at the UN. Most of what is said is completely false. Nobody minded at first but now it’s obvious he’s having success with the rockets everyone is getting upset about it. Wolf has actually written to the UN requesting a team of inspectors to come to the site and verify that this is simply for peaceful purposes – actually that was my idea.’
‘But what about the US? If they want it stopped, they can have it stopped, can’t they?’
‘It’s not as simple as that. We have this legitimate contract. Rodriguez is very keen on the rocket project. They’re crazy to attract foreign investment here. They want to develop the Chaco. Paraguay has always been about the most insignificant country in the whole of Latin America; this is something that gives them some prestige.’
‘But it’s not giving them any money, is it? There was an article in the paper here today arguing that the terms of the contract are quite unfair – that Paraguay won’t get anything out of it except a free satellite launch until the company is making a big profit.’
‘That’s true. But it will make big profits, and then we’ll see who's laughing.’ Bob was getting undressed; he went to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He came back to the doorway in his pyjamas and stood looking at her.
‘It’s hot; do you want the air-conditioning on?’
‘I can’t stand the air conditioning. I wake up freezing cold. Why can’t they have a thermostat on these things?’
‘God, how you complain about everything.’ He came to bed and, with a sudden affectionate gesture, started to stroke her but she pushed him away.
‘I don’t want to, Bob, the baby –’ It was the perfect excuse. She didn’t want him to touch her. ‘Bob, are you sure it’s safe in the Chaco? Supposing the rocket blows up on the launch pad or something. Anna –’
‘It’ll be fine. President Rodriguez is coming to see it personally. There might even be a representative from the US.’
‘Is that what the man from the Embassy told you?’
‘What man from the Embassy?’ Bob’s voice had changed subtly; she could hear the note of tension in it. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Liliana said you’d had a drink with someone from the US Embassy.’
‘She must have been imagining things.’ Bob lay quietly for a moment. She glanced surreptitiously at him; he was lying flat on his back, his eyes open; he was frowning. ‘When did she mention it?’
‘Earlier this evening. What’s the matter? Is it very important?’
‘No, of course not.’ A silence fell; they were both lying still, both slightly tense, neither wanting to let the other know that they weren’t sleeping. It must have been three or four in the morning, Katie thought; at that time, briefly, the traffic ceased almost entirely. Katie got up, went into the bathroom and started retching over the sink. Bob did not stir. She returned to the bed and lay there, crying soundless
ly. She thought she might as well leave him, she might as well be on her own, she felt so lonely. She neither trusted him nor knew what he was thinking; she felt absolutely lost. Then she thought of Anna, waiting for them in England, and tears came into her eyes.
‘Are you coming, then?’ asked Liliana.
‘I've packed. Will I need much?’
‘It’s quite comfortable there, don’t worry.’ Liliana tied a scarf around her head. ‘We’ll leave in half an hour. I'll drive us to the airport; Bob will be there already.’
Katie fetched her suitcase and waited for Liliana in the hallway. She came down the stairs like a model in her long dress, radiating perfume. They were going in the white Porsche. Liliana climbed into the driving seat, reversing the car out onto the road rather too recklessly for Katie’s comfort. As they drove past the house Katie saw two men watching in a car just up the street. They were there all the time; they were not very discreet. Liliana had pointed them out to her before and said they were the CIA.
Katie asked, as casually as she could, ‘Could we call in at the Gran Hotel del Paraguay on the way? I think I left a scarf there the other day.’
Liliana made the small detour and Katie ran into the lobby. The man at the desk said he would check if there was anything for her and came back with a folded sheet of fax paper. Katie unfolded it with shaking fingers. When she saw that it was Dmitry’s writing she hardly dared to read it; perhaps it would be another cold rejection. But she had no other time; Liliana was waiting, and she had no wish for Bob to discover it. She moved across to the other side of the lounge and read it.
The letter said:
Dearest Katie,
I have wanted to write to you so many times but believed that you had put all this behind you and that it would be best not to be starting things up again by contacting you. I am better now, but I have not been well; it took longer to recover than I had first thought. You will be pleased to hear that I have now had to give up smoking.
I know I have no right at all to say anything to you about what you should do but it seems to me that all my life I have suffered and caused suffering by not saying openly what I think or feel. Even worse is when I have rushed in impulsively and done things without thinking where they are going to take me. I may be guilty of that even now but I have to tell you that I want you to have the baby. This of course is no use to you if I am not there to help you so I must say that I will support you, help you, live with you, marry you, if you want any of these things. If you are truly wanting to stay with your husband then that is different but you do not say anything about this in your letter.
You write in a very dignified way but it seems full of pain between the lines. I know how much I must have hurt you to make you deny your own wishes so much. Please do not do anything which you may regret later. If you want I will come and see you and we can talk about everything. I am leaving for Buenos Aires for ten days at the end of the week and perhaps I can route home via Asunción. Please ring me or fax soon so that I can arrange this.
As we say in Russia, I wait for your reply as a swallow waits for the summer,
Your loving Mitya.
When she had finished the letter Katie read it again, trying to make sure she had understood it. She went hot all over and then cold. She wanted to keep the letter, but she dared not. She tore it up, threw it in a bin and ran back to the car.
‘Did you find it?’
‘No.’
Katie was sure Liliana would see that something had happened to her; perhaps she would think she was just upset about the scarf. But Liliana seemed unaware of anything but the car and the road. She was driving too fast. She had the roof down and her hair whipped back from her face where it strayed from under the brightly-coloured scarf. A lorry in front shed some of its load of earth, smearing the windscreen and narrowly missing them; Liliana swerved to overtake it on the inside. She turned the wipers on and squirted water to clear the windscreen.
‘You know, Wolfie is a genius,’ she said. ‘He was explaining to me the other night. Do you know what he did? He needed something to open the valves to let the fuel up from the tanks to the engines so what did he use? A car windscreen wiper motor. Isn't that unbelievable? It worked perfectly.’ And she roared with laughter.
Katie forced herself to smile. She was hardly conscious of the drive to the airport. She was in utter confusion. For an instant it crossed her mind that she could simply take the next flight back to Europe; she could simply turn up in Vienna on his doorstep and say, ‘Here I am.’ But no; he would be going to Buenos Aires; she could wait and go to meet him there. She tried to imagine his face when he saw her, his reaction to her, but she couldn’t do it; she had to push the thoughts away instantly.
Bob was waiting for them at the airport. Richter’s plane, a small jet, was standing on the tarmac with its engine roaring. Bob fussed around Katie, enjoying himself. She had never flown in a small plane before; the sensation of taking off was exhilarating; and as the plane banked steeply, she saw below the wide sluggish curve of the Rio Paraguay. She looked out of the window, peering into the flat wilderness which lay spread out before her. Below and ahead of them lay a sea of trees; they were still climbing. In spite of herself, she was excited.
‘There’s nothing much to see,’ said Liliana, as they flew over the Chaco; ‘It’s all like this; there’s absolutely nothing here.’ Its emptiness was impressive. They flew north of the Trans-Chaco highway; a few ranches were dotted here and there and an occasional earth road cut through the forest. Finally the plane banked again; Liliana pointed out of the window. In the distance Katie saw a clearing with an airstrip; a group of buildings; and the rocket gantry gleaming in the bright sunlight. On the horizon she could see the mysterious grey hump of Cerro León.
‘RASAG occupies this whole area,’ said Liliana. ‘There are hundreds of native workers; we’ve built housing for them over there. We’ve pumped up water and started irrigating; look – you can see the channels.’
They touched down. Clouds of dust from the strip of bare earth rose up and enveloped the plane. Richter was standing at the side of the runway to greet them. Katie looked around; when the engine cut out, the silence hit her. She felt the hot, dry wind. The rocket gantry towered above the trees, thin metal tubes criss-crossed like a modern architectural sculpture. In the midst of it stood the rocket. It was still under construction; the bottom part was made up of a bundle of tubes; the top was almost square. Three men in yellow suits were working on the platform at the top of the gantry.
Katie looked at the rocket with astonishment; it was angular, ungainly with its cylinders of jointed tubes. She said, ‘It doesn’t look very aerodynamic.’
Richter laughed. He slapped her shoulder. ‘What does it matter?’ He said, ‘T hat’s only a detail. It doesn’t have to look like a Porsche. If you have enough power, you can get anything into orbit.’
He left his hand resting on her shoulder; Katie instantly moved away, following Bob towards the buildings. He took her on a quick tour of the out-buildings; the computer room, the workshop. It was very hot; outside, barefoot soldiers sat sipping yerba maté out of gourds under a tree.
Bob took her back to the ranch, a big, solid house, with a wooden veranda. Inside it was air-conditioned and comfortable; there were leather chairs, rugs on the floor, hammocks hanging from the ceiling.
Bob showed her round, almost proudly. ‘There’s everything you need here. I’ve got to help Wolf – why don’t you rest here? Our room’s upstairs.’
‘Is there a phone?’
‘Of course. Why? Who do you want to call?’
‘I thought I might ring Anna but it doesn’t matter; I just wanted to be sure that someone could reach us here in case she was ill or anything.’
A woman came in, bringing them glasses of orange juice on a tray. The ice jingled in the glasses as she walked across the room. Bob took a glass, drained the contents down, kissed Katie on the cheek and strolled out. She watched him walk acro
ss the dusty compound to the control room. It was very quiet. She wondered if she could call Vienna. Perhaps they kept a record of all calls; perhaps they recorded them or listened in. She didn’t dare to. Anyway, they would only be here a few days, she could call Dmitry when she got back to Asunción.
Liliana came in and sat beside her. ‘Wolf will be working all night,’ she said. ‘It's always like this. There are always last-minute problems. He's anxious to keep to the schedule because of Rodriguez coming.’ She stretched out her legs, yawned and sighed. ‘I hope you bought a good book to read.’
Katie thought that she would be bored, but she wasn’t. She was surrounded by constant activity. While the men worked, Liliana stayed in the house and took endless: phone calls. Katie began to realise that many of the calls were from people who seemed to be anxious to prevent or postpone the launch, and that Liliana, far from being an empty-headed beauty, was in fact a very shrewd negotiator.
Once when Liliana put the phone down with a gesture of triumph, Katie asked her: ‘Who is this that keeps calling?’
‘It’s the Americans. They are getting tough. I thought all along it was a mistake to come to Paraguay; he would have been better off in Brazil. They are much more able to stand up to the Americans.’
‘Why didn’t he try Brazil?’
‘Well, he did, there were negotiations with several governments, but you see, Brazil had already had their fingers burned with this Sonda space programme which France was helping them with. The two main aerospace companies are going bankrupt, their missile programme is in chaos. I think they were happier for Wolf to try it out somewhere else; after all, if it works, they can always buy the technology.’
There were also other calls in Portuguese which seemed to go on for hours and which Katie was completely unable to understand.
The day before the launch Richter was plunged into depression by the news that the President was unable to come and would be sending one of his generals, head of the air force, instead. He took this badly, as a sign that the President’s position was weak or that he was trying to distance himself from the project. But it seemed there was nothing to be done; the launch had to go ahead as planned.
The Rocket Man Page 23