Tilson said, "It had to happen, Crab Cove did him in."
"Strange," said Iris. "I thought those houses were lovely. I never know anything."
"They're fine houses," Tilson said. "Not at all the usual Kinja thing of crossed-up plumbing, and electric wires that buzz and spark and catch fire, and tiles that pop loose in a month. Still, they don't have jade walls and platinum plumbing. At seventy-five dollars a square foot, they should."
Collins sighed. "I'm afraid Tex was sort of a child about money. He'd already gone bankrupt twice, in Acapulco and Hawaii. He had long stories about dishonest partners."
"Oh, sure," Tilson said. "Who goes out to these Godforsaken fringe places to try and scratch a living? With the biggest boom of the century going on in the States? Freaks, frauds, fools, and failures." He gave Paperman a snarling grin. "Present company excluded, to be sure. I've lived on tropical islands most of my life. Ninety per cent of the mainlanders who come in are loonies of one kind or another, and they nearly all blow sooner or later-if they don't die of the booze."
"How about yourself?" Iris said.
Tilson held up a corded, freckled red hand. "International Nickel saw fit to post me in New Caledonia for twenty-one years. I got used to the tropics. At my age I'm not going back to snow and crowds. That's different."
Paperman was thinking, with a sick heart, of the demolished wall, of the great load of building materials, of his debts, of the ugly tarpaulin bellying across his lobby. "And there you were, only this morning," he said angrily to Collins, "urging me to give Akers another thousand dollars!"
"Well, you know, he was my client," said Collins, "I had to do what I could for him. He probably would have blown with your thousand. But then again, Tex was such a screwball that he might actually have gone ahead and put up your rooms. Of course, you did the only sensible thing, paying no attention to me."
"You were well-advised," said Tilson, with a straight face, "singularly well-advised."
"I figured you had your instructions from New York," said Collins. "That's why I didn't mind urging you. There are no flies on Mr. Atlas."
"I never talked to Atlas about it."
"Of course you didn't," said Collins, with the glassy grin that came on his face at these moments. "Of course not. Still, if I can size up people, and that's my business, you're much too softhearted to have turned Tex down yourself." There was a heavy rattling on the windows facing the lawn, and dismayed shouting and running outside. "Here we go. I said it would rain, Tom."
"We sure need it," said Tilson.
"I don't need it," said Paperman. "I've just bought seven hundred fifty dollars' worth of water."
The old man's jaw dropped and he stared at Paperman. "Are you serious? Seven-fifty? You could float your hotel for that."
"It does seem high," said Collins. "Was that Anatone?"
"Anatone and the garbage boat."
Collins nodded wisely, "Well, in a way it's an investment. You'll find Senator Pullman very cordial to you."
"Paperman, I have a suggestion for you," Tilson said. "Go home. Whatever you have invested here, forget it. Leave. Blow, like Akers. Pretend you had a nightmare and woke up. No matter how much you've already lost, you'll be money ahead, I promise you."
The tall door opened, and Governor Sanders came in with the senator from Nebraska. "Well," he said, waving his drink, "we do have a little company in here, Senator. But it's choice." He carefully shut the door.
"Let's leave, Norman." Iris stood. "Official business about to be transacted."
The senator trotted to her elbow, and eased her down on a couch beside him. "Not on your life, Iris. You and I are the only two Nebraskans in Amerigo. Don't you desert me."
Sanders slouched in an armchair and lit a cigarette. "What's this about that Crab Cove fellow, Chunky? Is it true?"
"Bye-bye," said Collins.
The governor shook his head. "That's the place we drove by after lunch, Senator. Those houses with the yellow pagoda roofs."
"Why, they looked excellent. I've never seen a better site than that cove."
"Well, I'm afraid the builders here suffer from a peculiar ailment," Sanders said, "the disappearing sickness."
"The defaulting trots," Tom Tilson said.
Senator Finchley smiled. "Big ideas and small bankrolls. It's the second wave in a growth area that gets rich. Somebody will pick up those unfinished houses cheap and make a bundle."
Sanders said to Collins, "True enough. I suppose the bank will auction the Cove right away for the mortgage money."
"As soon as we can get a judgment," Collins said. "I'll probably go to court on it tomorrow." He added to Paperman, "I represent the bank."
"I see," Paperman said. "Tell me, are you the undertaker here, too)"
Collins peered at him. "Pardon me? No, that's Hollis. Hollis, not Collins. My law practice is really all I can handle. But Ralph Hollis is one hell of a good undertaker."
Iris uttered a short gasping laugh, but when the men all looked at her, her face was solemn. "Norman, I think I'd like maybe one more small drink. Sort of half."
As Paperman hesitated, Governor Sanders said to him, "By the way, Crab Cove might interest your friend Atlas. He told me he intended to acquire substantial properties here."
"That's true," Paperman said, trying to talk past Iris's request for more liquor. "I'll write him about the auction."
"It's a golden opportunity," Collins said.
Tilson said, "Crab Cove has to soak up another hundred fifty thousand dollars before people can move in. If your friend's got that kind of money, and if he can send down a good builder to finish off, he can make a killing. Once those houses are finished they'll sell like hot cakes, and for twice what they'd cost in the States. That's what's so tempting about-" Tilson stopped talking, and glanced at the ceiling and at his watch. A low roar, like a far-off flight of many jet planes, was vibrating the air in the room.
Governor Sanders said in a flat calm voice to Norman, "Just sit where you are."
"What is it?"
"Earthquake," Iris said, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
"First one in almost a year," said Sanders.
Now Paperman could see and feel the room trembling. A metal thing fell to the floor somewhere with a clang, and the glass chandelier tinkled wildly.
"How bad do they get?" said the senator, raising his voice above the swelling sound and holding the arm of the couch, but looking unruffled.
Tom Tilson replied, "Not bad here, usually. Nothing like the South Pacific."
Collins said, "I don't know, this one's going on a long time."
A harder tremor came, and a loud vibrating rumble. Paperman saw a pink-and-gold china vase topple, roll off a table, and break in pieces.
The jerking of his chair was nauseating, and it took will power not to get up and run outside. All at once Collins dived under a table near his chair, shouting over the harsh scary noise, "Better take cover, Iris! A doorway is good!"
The sound lessened and stopped; so did the unpleasant motion.
"It's over," Iris said, in the moment of total quiet that followed.
"I timed that one," Tilson said. "Fourteen seconds."
A hubbub arose beyond the closed doors. The lawyer came out from under the table, dusting his knees. "Safety first," he said.
"That stirred up the party, Senator," Sanders said. "I'm afraid we'll have to join them."
"Fun, wasn't it?" the senator said to Iris. "I once was in a real bad one in Hawaii. Some houses fell down. See you later." He went out with the governor and Collins, who said that quakes frightened his wife, and he'd better find her.
Tom Tilson leaned on his stick to get himself out of his chair. "That's the other thing about the tropics, Paperman. The Temperate Zone is a fake, you know. Go to the arctic or the tropics if you want to find out what kind of planet the Lord has put you on. It can be damned inhospitable."
Paperman said in a shakier voice than he intended, "This i
sland is still the most beautiful place I've ever seen."
"Nobody says it isn't pretty," said Tilson. "I said it was inhospitable. It's also unpredictable. You think you're braced for the very worst that can happen, but sooner or later the island throws a total surprise at you. I've seen it happen too often, Paperman, and I'm just telling you."
"Well, I'm not blowing," said Paperman, "come earthquakes, hurricanes, or anything else that Kinja can produce."
Tilson looked at him through almost closed eyes, his red withered face tilted far back, his stringy chin thrust out. "Well, all right. I'm a hermit. Mrs. Tilson and I give one party every year, at Christmas time. Two hundred guests, champagne, caviar, chateaubriands at midnight for everybody. My house is too small for that. I've been giving it at the Francis Drake for years. Can you handle it at Gull Reef? I pay twenty-five bucks a head, that's five thousand dollars. I expect the very best of everything, and I'm a fearful bastard to deal with."
"I'm willing to try it," said Paperman, with a startled glance at Iris.
"You've got it," said Tilson. He hobbled to the door, and turned. "These tremors seldom come one at a time. You might get shaken up once or twice more this week. A real big one can produce a tidal wave. That might wash out all your problems. Check your flood insurance."
Iris said as soon as he left, "Norman, if you do the Tilson party right, you're in. It's the event of the island. I want another drink fast, and no arguments. Earthquakes are special. One more for the earthquake."
Paperman said uneasily, following her down the mirrored hall, "The bar's probably closed by now."
"In that case," Iris said, "there's always His Excellency's private stock."
The guests thronging through the state rooms were still laughing and exclaiming over the downpour and the quake. Many of them milled around a buffet table in the largest room, where Governor Sanders stood in an arch of the French windows, arms folded, gloomily looking out at the rain. Iris made straight for him. "Where's the bar tonight, Governor? Why not in the usual corner?"
"They closed it outside when the rain came, Iris. It was sort of late. Have something to eat."
"No thank you. I guess my credit with Terence is still good for a drink." She pushed away through the crowd.
"How many has she had?" said Sanders to Paperman.
"Two."
The governor made a wry face. "Iris shouldn't have more."
"So she told me."
Norman caught up with her in a dark narrow hallway, between walls hung with photographs, swords, and guns. "Where to now?"
"The pantry. Terence is my pal."
"Iris, I'm hungry. Let's get another drink when we have dinner. Where shall we go?"
She glowered at him. "Lay off. I'm perfectly fine, and I mean to have another drink free of charge on this f----government before I leave."
Paperman blinked at the foul word. She laughed at him and turned away. He caught her arm. "Let go of me, Norman!"
"Iris, I'm leaving now. You can stay or you can come with me, but I'm going."
She smiled, her eyes widening in a bright vicious look. "Run along, Normy, and good riddance."
Paperman had nothing to go on except Iris's own instructions to him. "Okay, so long." He walked down the hallway without looking back, into the center hall and out through the back entrance to the parking space. Rain was falling, but not heavily. He dashed to the Land Rover, started it up, and as he backed and turned around he saw her at the head of the stairway, waving. He stopped.
"You really were going to do it, weren't you?" she said, clambering into the machine. "You really were going to leave me at that disgusting brawl."
"Order from the boss," he said.
She switched her skirt angrily around her thighs. "Well, it's no more than I should have expected from a Jew. I've never known a Jew who had any manners."
"Where would you like to have dinner?"
"I'm not hungry. The food stinks everywhere on this f----island. It's best at the Reef but I've had my bellyful of your stupid problems there, do you mind? If we eat in the patio of the Francis Drake, you can see your f----place go up in flames, or whatever's going to happen next.
There's bound to be something."
"Francis Drake." He started the Rover down the road in its snorting jerky way.
"Why in the name of your God of Moses don't you get a car," she said, "instead of this epileptic fit on wheels?"
Paperman looked straight ahead and said nothing. During the next ten minutes, as they drove through the slanting rain, Iris kept up an incoherent tirade against Jews, in a strident voice, her arms crossed, her dilated eyes fixed on him, unpleasant smiles writhing her mouth. At last, hoping to turn her off, Paperman said, "What makes you think I'm a Jew? I'm on your side. I think the Jews are taking over America, and it's a damn shame, because they're so feeble and incompetent."
"Very funny, but I happen to be serious. I can't stand Jews, I never was involved with one that I wasn't sorry afterward, and I speak with authority because Herb Tramm was one. You know, all this liberal talk is the bunk. Nobody can stand Jews. Even colored people can't stand them. You watch, people are going to stop coming to Gull Reef just because a Jew's got it."
"Okay, Iris, please shut up," said Paperman with a yawn.
"Don't tell me to shut up, you weak effeminate Jew. Scared to death by a few ants. I can probably fight you and beat you."
She said nothing more until they were seated in the patio of the Francis Drake under a striped canvas awning, having their first glass of wine with the shrimps. She drained the glass in a gulp, and then looked at him with an abashed grin, her eyes sad and friendly. "Sorry."
"Okay."
"Why didn't you throw me out of the car?"
"Well, as you pointed out, you can probably fight me. And anyway, a peeved woman is nothing new to me. I've logged about a hundred thousand hours, and I hold an instructor's license."
Iris laughed. "Henny can't be that bad. She can't be."
"Henny doesn't go on about the Jews, of course. And I must say she usually gets more provocation."
"Well, if it's any comfort to you, you ain't seen nuthin'. I hope you never do see me when I'm bad."
They ate in silence for a while.
"It's not my business, Iris," he said, "but since the stuff is rough on you, how about A.A.?"
Iris gnawed her lip, looking across the water at the lights of the Reef, misty in the rain. "No good. A.A. backs up to a religious idea, Norm. That lets me out. If I actually became convinced there was an intelligent God watching my antics, I'd probably cut my throat. Just to get back my privacy. It's an unbearable thought." She drank more wine. "My abiding comfort, honey, is that I know I mean no more to the universe than one of those dead ants in your wet Kleenex."
The food at the Francis Drake was not good-the meat tough and dry, the vegetables overcooked, the layer cake greasy. Paperman remarked on this, and Iris told him that he was fortunate in his cook, Sheila; the Reef offered the only tolerable food on the island. When they were having coffee, Iris patted a napkin to her mouth, and tossed it on the table. "Look, I've got to say this, and then let's forget it. I don't like anybody much, myself included, but I have a partiality for Jews, if anything-
Maybe you've noticed that. When I get ugly I say or do the worst possible thing. But I skirt an edge. If I really know I can't get away with it, I usually don't say it. I thought you'd put up with me, and you did. Why didn't you get angry?"
"Good question," said Norman, and he thought for a moment. "I'll tell you a story. Way back when I was working for Loyalist Spain, before I met Henny, there was this Vermont girl in the crowd, very radical and very Gentile, which to me at that time was a tough combination to beat. She was also not bad looking, though sort of loose-boned and rangy, and with a wide mouth. Anyway this thing got hot and heavy in a week or so. She was resisting a bit to prolong the enjoyment. It was all sharply delicious, the way everything was then. Well, late one night after
going to a show, we were having coffee and cake in the automat on Fifty-seventh Street. I was just talking at random, and I said, This afternoon I was to a meeting at Joe's house,' something like that. She suddenly turned on me. 'Norman, please don't EVER say was to again. You always do. It's a New York expression, and a Jewish one at that.' I went on talking and kidding and finally took her home. I never saw her again. What she said didn't amount to much. But you see, she meant it." Iris nodded, looking down at her clasped hands. "How long has it been pouring now?" Norman said, glancing up at the awning, which sagged under the beating rain. "Two straight hours?"
Herman Wouk - Don't Stop The Carnival Page 22