Tomorrow the first news release would break, but Durell was not concerned with that now. He felt a bone-weary exhaustion that had led him back to the St. George after a doctor had attended to his injured hand. He had had a long hot bath, then dinner, then a two-hour nap shot through with gray nightmares.
The evening was warm in Algiers. He sipped an apéritif in the sidewalk café near the hotel and waited for Brumont. People chattered all around him, read newspapers, talked, flirted, laughed, and watched the passersby.
He felt lonelier than he had ever felt in his life.
He was watching for Brumont’s taxi from the Maison Blanche airport when he saw Jane Larkin get out of a cab and walk quickly across the broad mosaic sidewalk toward the hotel.
Durell stood up and she saw him and came his way. She looked different. She had found new clothing, and she wore a pencil-slim dress that only accented the firm lines of her body. Her blond hair had been washed and combed and she looked as if nothing had happened, until he saw her eyes. He pulled out a chair for her and she joined him at his table.
“I can only stay a moment,” she said. She sounded breathless. “I have to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“How is Chet?”
“He’ll be all right now. They've got the bullet out. The rest of it is just a lot of bruises. I’m so grateful to you, Durell.”
“How long will you stay in Algiers?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “It depends on Chet.”
“I thought you were so anxious to get back to Texas.”
“Yesterday I thought I was anxious to have a lot of things.” The waiter came with a Pernod at Durell’s signal, and she twisted the glass in her fingers. She looked up at Durell, and he thought her eyes looked very different. Her mouth was no longer petulant when she smiled. “Yesterday I was someone else, I’m afraid. Someone not very nice at all.”
“What is Chet going to do?”
“He’s planning to renew his contract with the oil exploration company. T here’s a lot of work to do here. If they can find oil in the Sahara, it may change a great many things in Algeria.”
“I see.”
Jane said quietly, “Anyway, I told Chet about the baby.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Durell said. “Congratulations.”
“I was horrible to him. I wasn’t going to tell him at all. Not until after we got home.” She flushed and lifted her Pernod and set it down again without tasting it. “This sounds like a confession, I suppose, but I’ve learned so much in the last day or two that I still haven’t digested it all. There’s one thing, however. I’m going to stay with Chet, no matter what he decides to do.”
“I’m glad,” Durell said.
She laughed. “You should see Chet. I have a lot to make up for.” She picked up her purse and stood. Her eyes were bright. She looked happy for the first time since Durell had met her, and he felt a touch of envy and wondered about it. “You must excuse me now. I have to hurry and get back to the hospital.”
He stood up with her and shook hands. “Of course. Good luck, Jane.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
He watched her hurry into the hotel and when he turned back to his drink, the world seemed emptier for him.
M. Brumont was wearing the same purplish blue suit with the wide, pointed lapels that Durell had seen him wear in Paris. And the same ubiquitous black felt hat and raincoat, although Algiers sparkled in the warmth of the evening sun.
“I have just come from the Governor-General’s,” Brumont said, after they shook hands and he ordered brandy.
“Everyone there is in quite a flap. I had quite a time getting those idiots to release L’Heureux into the custody of my two men for shipment to Paris.”
“What are you going to do with him?” Durell asked.
“He will be questioned by my colleagues at Paris Intelligence and the Deuxieme Bureau, naturally.” Brumont looked fat and harried, his black moustache bristling with excitement. ‘We followed the directions you gave us in your wire, you know, and searched Sardelle’s apartment in Paris. We found L’Heureux’ documents. Political dynamite, m’sieu. Proof of a definite conspiracy to prolong the war until the people of France are desperate for any peace, regardless of justice. Heads will roll in Parliament, I assure you. And here in Algiers, as well. It will be of vast effect in helping to bring about a reasonable solution to this distressing matter.”
“Have you been in touch with my Embassy?” Durell asked.
“They expect you in Paris tomorrow. Arrangements are being made in regard to the disposition of L’Heureux. There will be no difficulty on that, since for once—” Brumont’s smile was wry— “For once, your State Department sees eye to eye with us in this matter.”
“That’s something, anyway,” Durell said.
“You sound sad, m’sieu.”
“I suppose I’m simply tired.”
“In any case, permit me to offer my personal congratulations. You have performed a valuable service for us. It is my hope that France will be the better for what you have done, whatever the agony in political circles. It may even hasten the end of the war here.”
Brumont stood up and they shook hands again. The fat little Frenchman consulted a huge gold pocket watch. “I am due back at the Governor-Generals office. L’Heureux will be flown to Paris on the midnight plane, and I will return with him. You would not wish to come back with us?”
“Tomorrow will be time enough.”
Brumont smiled and winked. He looked like a cherub gone to seed. “I understand. One evening in Algiers is almost the same as Paris—especially when one has a rendezvous, eh?"
“I have no rendezvous, unfortunately,” Durell said.
“But Mlle. Padgett—your lovely friend that you left in Paris-you have not seen her yet?”
“She's back in Washington by now,” Durell said.
“You are mistaken, m’sieu. She is here in Algiers. She remained over in Paris and begged me to take her when I came here this afternoon. Surely you have seen her by now? I was wondering, if you will pardon the curiosity, why you sat here so much alone, a man like you—”
Durell was on his feet. “Where is she?”
Brumont smiled and winked again. “Perhaps in your room, m’sieu. Where else?” He sighed. “And now I will not keep you, since I have much work to do. Adieu, m’sieu.”
“Goodbye,” Durell said again.
When Brumont had hailed a taxi, Durell turned and walked quickly along the broad sidewalk to his hotel. Evening had come, but a pale violet light still lingered over the Mediterranean and the Sahel Hills. Lights twinkled and shone all over the city. He got out of the elevator and moved with a long stride down the corridor, and all at once it seemed as if he were back in the dream again, with all the closed doors barring understanding around him. He walked faster. His door was at the end of the hall. It was closed. But then he saw a thin line of light shining under it and he knew someone was there.
Deirdre opened the door before he reached it.
“Surprise, darling,” she said.
And she said, “Welcome home, Sam.”
She stood back as he halted. She was beautiful. She looked scrubbed and rosy, as if she had just stepped from his shower, and he saw she had invaded his suitcase and taken out his bathrobe. It was wrapped loosely around her body. She looked inviting and desirable.
Durell moved quickly through the open door toward her.
Assignment Madeleine Page 19