It was only as we were leaving that he said softly, “Our conversation was not as irrelevant as it may have seemed, Miss Steffee. How you will perform on the job has a great deal to do with why you are here. I can’t say that I’m delighted with your connection with Rick Kemmler. However, you seem to be a very sensible young woman. And perhaps there has been some mistake, after all. As for your abilities as a programmer, I am relieved to see that Whitford’s judgment was an impartial one. You see, I, too am directly concerned over the success of our computer setup here.”
I nodded, understanding better, now, his questions. But I couldn’t help wondering just where Mr. Iveson ranked in the company. I had almost made up my mind to speak to him about Carlos when he said abruptly, “I seem to have left something back at the restaurant. You go on ahead to your office.” He paused, then smiled as he added, “It was a very pleasant lunch for me, Miss Steffee. I never realized how attractive computer programmers could be.”
As I stammered out some sort of answer, Mr. Iveson turned around and started walking back to the restaurant. Slowly, I returned to my office.
The men were already working and they wasted a few minutes teasing me about my “date” with the “big” man. Only Carlos regarded me more seriously.
Rather defensively, I said, “He wanted a progress report.”
“And?”
“And I told him we were doing great, of course.”
Carlos seemed to accept that and soon we were in the middle of a pile of programs. But the afternoon didn’t go as well as the morning had. Half an hour early, we made a unanimous decision to quit. No amount of work was going to get us anywhere until we’d all had a chance to sleep on it. As Carlos and I walked out the door, I asked him about a place Mr. Iveson had mentioned.
He hesitated a moment. “I believe there are some pyramids there. Why?”
I shrugged. “Apparently, Mr. Iveson’s wife is interested in archaeology. He made it sound like a good place to visit.”
Carlos grinned. “Perhaps. If it is like many sites here in Mexico, one might need a jeep to get there!”
He left then, to go in a direction opposite to mine. Twenty minutes later, I was at the anthropological museum. I’m not quite sure why I went there, or why it was so soothing. Maybe because I was feeling so confused and anthropology always makes me realize how absurd our notions about this or that are. Each society has its own notions about what’s important, what’s proper. Each society thinks it has all the important answers. And yet, in time, all fades away except a relic or two. The same would happen to our culture, I knew. And what would people, five centuries from now, think of the nose cones from the Apollo space missions?
When I finally turned away, I was more at peace with myself than I had been since Rick’s arrest. It was impossible to take my problems too seriously in the midst of all these ancient reminders of human sacrifice. I mean, really! Those ancient sacrificial victims had serious problems.
I decided to eat at the museum restaurant. The food was as good as I had remembered and it was nice to be able to relax over a cup of coffee. Alone. Even the stares from men who passed my table failed to unnerve me. In my present mood, their questioning smiles gave my ego a much-needed boost.
As the heat from my coffee cup warmed my hands, I tried to think about my situation. If I were honest, I had to admit I’d been eager to leave early because I wanted to avoid Charles. Much as I tried to ignore Mr. Iveson’s vague hints at lunch, they touched that part of me that felt guilty over deserting Rick now. Rick. It was easier to think about him than about Charles. I felt hurt, but that was mostly pride. How could I have been so naive? And how could I be sure I wouldn’t be so naive again? Wasn’t I being just as naive about Charles?
A voice at the back of my head told me, You weren’t completely blind about Rick. Something kept you from agreeing to marry him. Suddenly Charles flew into my thoughts again.
Again I tried to avoid Charles by thinking about my job. My position at the company could only be enhanced by the work I was doing here. Under normal circumstances, I would be fortunate to be offered such a chance to prove myself so soon. And I knew I was doing a good job. Charles
Yes, we were back to Charles. And, as I sat there, nursing my now cold cup of coffee, I faced the fact that I was falling in love with Charles. I knew it was crazy. How can you fall in love with someone you don’t know? I asked myself sternly. But I had no answer for myself, except to hope that by morning things would be clearer.
By morning, things did seem a bit clearer. I realized that I had been leaning on Charles, expecting him to sort out my difficulties for me. Granted, I had been in shock and needed someone to hold my hand, but now the time had come for me to manage by myself again. I needed to know that I could and, if I were ever to sort out my feelings for Charles, I would have to put some distance between us.
Accordingly, I skipped breakfast at the hotel, took a taxi to work, very early, and found a cafe nearby where I could get coffee and eggs with beans. The eggs looked awful with the beans mixed in, but tasted marvelous. Afterwards, I felt ready to face the men at work. With a wry smile, I wondered what Charles would make of my absence. Would he feel concern? Relief? Somehow, Charles did not seem the sort of man who enjoyed baby-sitting semihysterical females, no matter how fond of them he was.
I was the first one at the office and, by the time Carlos arrived, I had found the bug we’d been searching for the day before. That set the tone for the whole day. We ran program after program through the computer with great success, taking turns to run out for lunch. By late afternoon, we were feeling almost drunk with our achievement.
Carlos was even joking, saying, “It is a good thing you are so much a woman. Otherwise I would wonder if you were a man in disguise. After all, everyone knows women are stupid. Enchanting but stupid!”
I laughed at his teasing and countered, “Actually, my theory is that men belong in the kitchen. After all, everyone knows the greatest chefs are men.”
“Yes, but-”
“And they look so well in pretty clothes.”
“Yes, but-”
“And they clearly have a knack for handling children,” I continued.
“Yes, but-” Carlos began again.
“Miss Steffee, if you can spare a moment, may I speak with you?” The voice was sarcastic, and I knew, even before I turned to look, that Charles would be frowning.
“Certainly, Mr. Whitford,” I said as calmly as I could.
Carlos quirked an eyebrow and, impatiently, I shook my head at him. Charles, I was certain, had missed none of this. He waited as I picked up my purse and joined him in the hallway. He obviously had no intention of talking here and he set a fast pace toward a stairway.
As we walked, his words came short and clipped. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Yes!” I tossed back defiantly.
Charles paused, for a moment, startled. “Oh. I gather the work is going well?”
The men and I had done a terrific job, and I knew it. But this stem Charles seemed almost a stranger and I could only say, “Yes.”
His office was one floor up and, when we reached it, Charles held the door for me. The office was small, and I sat down in the chair he indicated. “They keep this for the visiting executives,” he explained, as he took the only other chair. Then, after a brief pause he asked, “Did you get back to the hotel all right yesterday?”
I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the need I had had to run away from him. I think perhaps he misunderstood, because he asked urgently, “Is something wrong, Ellen?”
I flushed. “No. It’s just that, well, I needed time to think yesterday, so I went to the anthropological museum after work.”
This time Charles seemed to understand. His voice became impersonal as he said, “I see. Tell me, how is the work going? You and Carlos seemed in a very good mood.”
“It’s beginning to fall into place. At least the current stage is. Partly we were lucky. I’ve
worked from Rick’s printouts before. But partly, Charles, it’s as though Rick had all the pieces but couldn’t put them together. In fact, we might have seen it sooner, the guys and I, except that I never expected Rick to make such careless errors. He did things a freshman programmer wouldn’t even pull!”
Charles nodded gravely. “I gather he had his mind on other things. Actually, your news makes it harder for me to tell you mine. Ellen, I suggested to the head office that they transfer you down here for the duration of this project. Today I got word back. The answer is no. They expect to have someone else down here in a week or ten days. They would, however, like you to stay on until then.”
“That’s not fair,” I said evenly.
“I know, but—”
“Carlos is a good man. Competent. Familiar with the project. Familiar with the people. Why hasn’t he been put in charge?” I demanded quietly.
Charles looked at me for a moment, then sighed and picked up a pen. “All right. I’ll try again. What are his credentials again?”
I told him again. Charles was impressed and asked several questions. Finally he said in a vaguely amused voice, “I’ll pass this information on, Ellen, but don’t be surprised if nothing comes of it.”
I nodded. I hadn’t expected promises. Nor would I have been surprised if Charles had said even less. Disappointed, but not surprised. As Charles wrote a few more words, I studied his bent head and felt my throat tighten. In any other circumstances, I would have known how to respond to Charles. But if these had been other circumstances, if Rick had not been arrested and Charles had not been involved, I probably never would have met him, I realized.
At that moment, Charles looked up and his eyes met mine. He looked away first, choosing a spot over my head to stare at. “Just one more thing, Ellen. I saw Rick this morning. He’s going to be difficult. About you.”
“Why, Charles? Why is he so bitter?” I asked softly, not bothering to hide the pain.
Still he looked over my head. “I don’t know. But it’s not just you. He’s bitter at the world and everyone and everything in it. As though it owed him something he’s never gotten.” Almost, I could feel Charles touch my cheek, although he sat several feet away, as he said, “Don’t let it hurt you too deeply, Ellen.”
I tried to smile but couldn’t. Fumbling with my purse, I stood. “Thank you for telling me, Charles. I’d better get back to work now.”
I didn’t wait for an answer; I was unable to bear any more sympathy. Instead, I fled back to my office and the men who would be laughing.
Again, I left a few minutes early. We had completed a sequence of runs, and several hours of preparatory work would be necessary before we could run any more programs through. And, yes, to be honest, I couldn’t bear to see Charles again so soon.
It was a warm afternoon and I decided to walk back to the hotel. At the most, it would take an hour and perhaps help to clear my head. Was it safe for me to walk that distance? Was I dressed too conspicuously? I didn’t think so when I set out. I wore a light rose pantsuit with a green scarf and carried a leather shoulder bag. Hardly enticing, hardly wealthy looking, I would have said. I was sure no one would bother me.
But I was wrong. I seemed to have an unusually large number of admirers. Not knowing Spanish kept me from having to answer any of the comments they made. Until, that is, I ran into a few who knew English. I tried to be polite but firm about my refusals and the men took it philosophically enough, usually with a shrug and a grin. So by the time Pepe came along, I was almost enjoying myself. After all, I’ve never considered admiration an insult.
I was only a block from the park near the hotel when he fell into step beside me. He was better dressed than most of the men I had encountered. “Buenos dias, senorita,” he said with an air that was almost respectful.
“I don’t speak Spanish,” I said firmly.
“Oh, Americano. That is very good. I like Americanos. I am Pepe. You are here on vacation?”
I was not stupid enough to admit that I was alone. “Yes,” I said, “with my husband.”
It was a lie, but an effective one. Usually. But instead of backing away, Pepe took hold of my elbow, drawing me toward a side street. “Oh? But that is so unfortunate. I have not seen you with a man. And you are too lovely to be tied to just one. You must let me take you to dinner. I know a place-”
By now, he was almost dragging me, but I was still not seriously alarmed. Impossible to think of danger in the clear afternoon surrounded by people. Surely, Pepe was merely overzealous.
“Let me go,” I said calmly, twisting my arm free.
“I am sorry, senorita, I cannot,” he said, as his other hand clamped down on my arm.
Panicking now, I opened my mouth to yell. His hand closed over it, jerking my head back, and, for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. As I struggled, someone else grabbed my waist. I bit down hard on the hand over my mouth and tried to pull free. Someone swore in Spanish. By now, we were well down the deserted side street.
Still fighting, I glimpsed a car nearby. Hope rose, immediately crushed by the voice hissing, “So sorry, Senorita Steffee, you must come for a ride with us. Someone wishes-”
A hand was clamped over my mouth again as I started to scream. I couldn’t breathe and I felt myself growing weaker. Suddenly, there was a police whistle nearby. Hands released me as footsteps pounded toward us. I teetered, then leaned against the wall as the nearby car roared away. Abruptly, I sat down. My ears rang and, for a moment, I couldn’t see. As the haze cleared, I realized someone was shouting, “Ellen! Ellen! Are you all right?”
Silly man, couldn’t he see? I started to grin foolishly and turned to look up at Charles. Abruptly, my head cleared. “What happened?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
“That is what I’d like to know!” The voice was grimly angry. “What the hell is going on? Who were those men? And why the blazes did you leave the office early?”
Suddenly, everything seemed so absurd that I started to laugh.
“Ellen!” Charles sounded almost frantic.
“Senor, she is in shock. Permit me. Senorita, please try to stand. We will take you to your hotel, yes? And you will tell us what occurred?”
I looked up. A policeman stood beside Charles. Soberly, I nodded, then carefully got to my feet. Both men helped.
“Your hotel, senorita?” the policeman asked.
“Gamer,” I said briefly.
Leaning slightly on both of them, I found myself walking down the short stretch to the hotel. If I had seemed odd to the staff before, it was nothing to the picture I presented now. Mouths gaped. Charles gave the elevator girl my floor number and took my purse to look for my key. As soon as we were safely inside, he called room service and ordered brandy. Then the policeman made a telephone call. Neither spoke to me.
With the brandy, the manager arrived. He wasn’t at all pleased. He spoke in rapid Spanish to the policeman, obviously demanding to know what was going on. The poor fellow was trying to answer when there was another knock at the door. It was the policeman who had taken me to see Rick. Apparently, he was in charge of the case.
“Come in,” I said bitterly, “and join the party.”
“Drink your brandy!” Charles said, sharply.
I drank. And watched. The inspector (or whoever he was) spoke in rapid Spanish to the policeman who had rescued me. The fellow answered. Then Charles made a comment or two, also in Spanish. Finally, they all turned to me.
“Senorita, can you please describe what occurred?” the inspector asked me.
I did. In a voice that trembled only slightly. Already the incident had begun to seem unreal. When I finished, the hotel manager looked as though he wanted to say something to me, changed his mind, spoke to Charles in Spanish, then left.
I smiled weakly. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” I asked.
Still angry, Charles snapped, “Can you blame him? First, you’re accused of smuggling, then you show up like this. He can h
ardly expect it to help business!”
“Senorita,” the inspector said before Charles could add anything more, “have you ever seen either of the men before?”
“No,” I said, firmly. Then, remembering, I added, “He knew my name!”
“What?”
“He knew my name. He called me Senorita Steffee.”
“Which one?” The inspector’s voice was eager.
“Pepe. No, the other one. But how? I was careful not to tell Pepe my name.”
Charles and the inspector looked at each other. Neither said a word for several seconds. Finally, the inspector said quietly, “It is possible that we will wish you to look at photographs. Or men. You will be either here or at your office, si?”
“Si.,,
“Then I will say good evening, senor, senorita.”
As the two policemen started for the door, Charles demanded, “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to give her some kind of protection?”
“There is a man very near this hotel. And one near your office, senor. If the senorita goes nowhere else, she will surely be safe,” the inspector said blandly.
“And what if someone tried to kidnap her from this room?” Charles demanded sarcastically. “A heck of a lot of good a guy on the street would be!”
The inspector hesitated, then added bluntly, “That has been considered.” Then he turned to me. “Senorita, if you think of anything else, you will call me, si? Good night.”
And the pair left. Charles was angry and turned that anger on me. “Well? I hope you’re pleased with yourself! That was a damn stupid thing to do, walking back here alone. Why didn’t you wait for me? Or at least take a taxi? Were you looking for trouble?”
Suddenly I couldn’t take any more. My head started to spin and tears ran down my face.
“Ellen!” Charles’s voice was full of concern.
I felt the glass being taken from my hand. Strong arms pulled me forward until my head rested against a large, comforting shoulder. A hand kept it there, while an arm circled me, holding me tightly. A voice crooned, over and over again, “It’s all right now. It’s all right.”
My Love Betrayed Page 6