The student burst into roars of laughter, slapping his knee in enormous appreciation. He, too rose. “Perhaps it would amuse you if I walk along with you and show you some of the particular points of interest.”
“But you haven’t had your coffee.”
The student shrugged and waved his arms in a windmill gesture. “Coffee I can have any time. The chance to exercise my English and simultaneously talk with an American is rare. Where are you meeting this lovely her?”
“At the Salâo da Chá.”
The student made a face. “The Salâo da Chá prefers money to charm.”
“Oh, well, you know,” Adam said, “girls. I won’t eat for a month.”
Behind the student’s back Canon Tallis’ lips moved silently. “Phone.” Adam’s eyes met his for a brief moment of acquiescence. Then he paid for the coffee and left.
20
The student chattered gaily about Portuguese architecture, history, wine, cheese, until they reached the restaurant. Adam listened enough to respond intelligently and, he hoped, innocently, but he was busy learning streets, memorizing landmarks. At the entrance to the Salâo da Chá they said goodbye, the student pumping Adam’s hand with affection, as though they were old friends, Adam trying to sound cordial. He did not know whether the bespectacled young man was one of Cutter’s boys or not, but he was inclined to think so. The innocence was too calculated to ring true. And what about Adam’s own?
The Salâo da Chá was a large restaurant with a fountain in the center, and a balcony. The maître d’hôtel came bustling up to him, saying in English, “May I help you, sir?” Was he that obviously an American?
“I’m meeting a young lady for lunch,” Adam said, “but I’m afraid I’m rather early.” There was no use in trying to telephone now. He would have to give Canon Tallis time to get to the Rabbi Pinhas, since that was the next place Dr. O’Keefe had told him to call.
The maître d’hôtel was looking through a small black book. “Would you perhaps be Mr. Eddington?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Cutter called. She has reserved a table on the balcony. It is more private, there. Would you like to go up and wait?”
“Fine. Thanks.” He wouldn’t like to go up and wait at all. He wanted to dash back out onto the street and find Canon Tallis; but Canon Tallis was probably on his way to the rabbi’s. Adam decided that he would call in ten minutes, so he asked, “Is there a telephone I could use?”
“Yes, indeed, sir. There is one in the gentlemen’s lounge upstairs.”
Adam thanked him and was escorted up the stairs to the balcony. He sat at the table and tried not to keep checking his watch. A waiter brought him a carafe of water and asked if he wanted to wait for the young lady before ordering. It seemed that everybody in Lisbon knew more about Adam’s plans than Adam himself. He drank a glass of water thirstily and went to the men’s room.
He was relieved to find it empty. The phone was on a table, the phone book beside it. He looked up Senhora Leonora Afonso. With the aid of the phrase book again he gave the operator the number, having to repeat it several times, wasting time in giving the numbers in French, German, English, and finally going back to Portuguese. At last he could hear the phone ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Then a man’s voice: “Sim?” Adam knew that this meant yes, but the voice was formidable, unwelcoming.
“Rabbi Pinhas, por favor.”
The voice replied, switching into English (was Adam’s accent as apparent as all that?), “Speaking.”
“Canon Tallis, please.”
“Who?”
“Canon Tallis. Canon Thomas—I mean John Tallis.”
The Rabbi Pinhas—if it was he—said, “I think you must have the wrong number.”
“This is the Rabbi Pinhas?”
“Yes, and I am extremely busy. Please check your number with the operator.”
“Sir, this is Adam.”
“Young man, look up your numbers more carefully in the future.”
“But sir, I know you. You were on the plane when—”
A cross voice cut him off. “Young man, this is most definitely not a restaurant. We serve no meals. I do not wish to be discourteous to a foreigner, but you must go to someone else with your problem.”
At this apparent non sequitur Adam realized that the rabbi might not be alone, or able to speak freely. “Sir,” he said, “if you think you’ll be seeing Canon Tallis could you pretend I’m asking you for money?”
“Of course I can’t lend you any money, young man. I suggest you go to the American consul. He is supposed to take care of his nationals.”
“Do you expect him soon?”
“Young man, you are taking too much of my time. I am expecting a colleague in a few minutes.”
“I’m at the Salâo da Chá waiting for Kali. I’ll try to call again. I’ll be here for at least another hour.”
“My dear young man, I lead an extremely busy life and several things have come up. Of course you can’t come to see me. I’m going out in half an hour.”
“I’ll try to call back within half an hour, then,” Adam said.
He went back to the balcony, to his table. There, at the next table, was Mr. Green of the Singer Sewing Machine. He saw Adam and smiled pleasantly.
“My young friend! And what are you doing here?”
“Meeting a friend for lunch.”
“A young lady, I presume?”
“Well-yes.”
“Lucky boy. You may wish me luck, too. I’m hoping to bring off a sizable deal.” Mr. Green turned from Adam as two men with dark hair and rather flashy suits came up to the balcony, spoke to them in easy, if heavily accented Portuguese, and settled down to what seemed to be business, paying no further attention to Adam. The boy was inclined to think that Mr. Green’s appearance was only an accident. Kali had said that the restaurant was well known, and it seemed a likely place to bring someone if you wanted to clinch a business deal.
He looked at his watch. After one. He felt twitchy. Where was Kali? There was no point in trying to call the rabbi’s number again yet. He looked over the balcony to the tables below, to the fountain in the center. The restaurant was filling rapidly now, and when Kali came in’ it was with a group of other people, so that Adam did not see her at once. Then he caught sight of the familiar shining hair, the slender, expensively dressed body, the self-assured walk. The maître d’hôtel hurried to the girl, ignoring other guests who had come in first, and bent gallantly over her hand. Kali smiled and spoke to him, then moved swiftly through the crowded room and up the stairs.
“Adam, darling, I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late. Oh, how lovely to see you.” She kissed his cheek exuberantly. At the next table Mr. Green winked at Adam.
Kali stiffened and leaned over the table, saying in a low voice, “Do you know those men?”
“One of them was on the plane this morning.”
“There is absolutely no privacy in the world any more. Let’s eat something quick and get out. They have a kind of prawn here that’s just marvelous. I’ll order those and we can pick up some tea later. We’ll do some sightseeing first.”
“While you’re ordering,” Adam said, slowly and deliberately, “I have a phone call to make.”
“To whom?”
“Just a call. I’ll be right back.”
He went into the men’s room. An elderly gentleman with a white goatee was washing his hands, but left without even looking at Adam. This time the boy managed to get the number over to the operator without trouble, and the phone was answered almost immediately. He recognized the rabbi’s voice. “It’s Adam.”
“Hold on.”
A short pause, then Canon Tallis. “Adam?”
“Yes.”
“Are you alone?”
“At the moment. I’m in the men’s room.”
“How long are you going to be with Kali?”
“I don’t know. She wants to take me sightseeing.”
“Fine. Make one of your
stops the Saô Juan Chrysostom Monastery. I’ll have Father Henriques on the lookout for you. He’ll ask if he can be of any assistance to you—he speaks excellent French, so you won’t have any language problem—and you are to ask him who was the pagan orator who taught law to Sâo Juan. If he simply answers Libanius you are to call me at the theater tonight. It’s not safe for you to go to the Embassy or to call Joshua this afternoon. Cutter’s men are all over the place.”
The door to the men’s room opened and Mr. Green came in. Adam said, “All right, Susie honey, I understand, but what else do you want me to do?” If the rabbi could play this game so could Adam.
There was a snort at the other end of the line. “Company?”
“Absolutely.”
“If he goes on to tell you that John studied theology under Diodore of Tarsus you must manage to get back to the monastery before six, when the doors are locked. I will be there at five-thirty, and will be by the sarcophagus of Princess María Fernanda.”
“Anything you say, darling.”
Canon Tallis gave another snort and hung up.
Mr. Green grinned conspiratorially. “Quite the young Don Juan, aren’t you?”
“Well, you know how it is …” Adam replied modestly.
Mr. Green sighed. “Not any more. Those days are gone forever. All I can say is make the most of your hay while the sun shines.”
Adam went back to Kali. He still thought that Mr. Green was all right, but he was taking no avoidable risks. Kali was dabbing butter on a bread stick. “I thought you were never coming back,” she said crossly. “Who on earth were you talking to?”
“A girl friend.”
She glowered as the waiter put a dish of shellfish in front of them. She took her fork and a pick, “Watch,” and ripped the meat out of the shell. “I bet it was that Joshua,” she said, as Adam tried clumsily to open his shell.
“Joshua who?”
“Don’t play innocent. I may not approve of what daddy’s doing, but I know what’s going on. And I know Joshua. I’ve seen him dozens of times at Embassy things and he’s always been very rude to me. I can’t stand him.” She spoke in a low and rapid voice, so that Adam had a hard time catching her words.
He leaned across the table and took her hands in his, so that to an observer it would seem like a love scene.
“Adam, I’m scared out of my wits. Daddy’s utterly ruthless. He doesn’t care how many bodies he tramples over to get what he wants. I’m sorry I sounded all snarly about Joshua. I know he’s working with O’Keefe. I guess I’m just jealous of anybody who takes you away from me.”
Adam released her hands. “We’d better eat.”
“Yes. Let’s get out of here. Adam, darling, if it hadn’t been for you I’d probably never have questioned daddy. I’d have gone on thinking that anything he did was perfect just because he did it. But after I saw Molèc drive off with you and the O’Keefe child I was—I began to think. There’s never been anybody I cared about enough to think about before. I mean, if Molèc drove off with somebody else I wouldn’t have given a second thought whether they’d end up dumped in the Tagus or not. But I found myself thinking about you. And then I had to go on and think about all the rest of it.” She dropped her eyes as though afraid of having said too much, leaned back in her chair, and began to pick the meat out of the shell with precision. She ate with rapid concentration, and long before Adam had finished she pushed back her chair, saying, “Let’s go.”
Adam picked up the check and stood up. “How much tip should I leave?”
Kali took the check from him, reached into her own pocketbook and put money down. “Quicker this way. You can pay me back. Come on.”
At the next table Mr. Green gave another conspiratorial wink and Adam, giving a foolish grin in return, followed Kali down the stairs. The student spy had been right. The Salâo da Chá was interested in money. One of Adam’s favorite restaurants in New York was The Lobster on 45th Street, and it was a good deal more reasonable.
“We have to talk,” Kali said intensely as they emerged into the crowded street.
“Well, let’s do our sightseeing and we’ll be able to talk then.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Just the usuals. The Bélem Tower and the Jeronymos Monastery and the Saô Juan Chrysostom, and maybe the Madre do Dios church.”
“We can do the Bélem Tower and the monasteries without any trouble; they’re all fairly close together along the waterfront. What about Mr. Eiffel’s tower?”
“I’d like to see that, too. Let’s do the things along the Tagus, and then we can do the Madre do Dios and the Eiffel if there’s time.”
They were standing on the street corner, Kali’s hand resting lightly on Adam’s arm. Several taxis slowed down suggestively, but she waved them on. “As soon as I see a driver I’m sure of,” she said. “It has to be someone who doesn’t speak English, so we can talk. How are you for time?”
Adam replied cautiously. “I have until five, maybe. See, there’s this shopping I have to do for Mrs. O’Keefe.” This he and the O’Keefes had decided to make legitimate for the benefit of anyone following his movements; easy enough, Mrs. O’Keefe had said, since the children always needed socks and underwear.
Kali flagged a taxi and Adam opened the door for her. As she climbed in she spoke in swift and charming Portuguese to the driver, giving him what appeared to be complicated directions. Adam thought he heard her mention the tower and the monasteries. She settled back in the seat. “Only till five? What about dinner? Can we have dinner together?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t, Kali.”
“There has to be a reason. Are you having dinner with somebody else?”
“I’m not sure.”
Kali gave a little cry and turned toward him. “You still don’t trust me!”
“I don’t know,” Adam said with painful honesty, “whether I trust you or not.”
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Kali’s eyes filled and she butted her face childishly against Adam’s shoulder. Through sobs she choked out, “If you don’t trust me … if you don’t love me … I can’t bear it … . I’ll want to die … .”
At this weakness, so strange in Kali, Adam was flooded with a wave of protective tenderness. He held her closely, saying, “It’s all right, Kali; it’s all right.”
Her sobs dwindled and she raised her head, asking like a child, “Is it really all right?”
“Of course.”
“And you will help me?”
“In every way that I can. But I don’t really see how.”
Kali’s voice rose. “By keeping me with you. By not sending me away.” She began the sharp, frantic sobbing again.
“How can I possibly keep you with me? What about your father, anyhow?”
Kali’s eyes darkened. “Oh, Adam, it’s so awful. I do love him, but I don’t want to see him, and I can’t help him any more. All he wants O’Keefe’s stuff for is money and more money, he doesn’t care how it’s used. He says there are too many people in the world anyhow and of course he’s right but … Did you see Ball this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Daddy said you were going to have papers from O’Keefe.”
“That’s right.”
“You mean you did?”
“Did what?”
“You gave Ball O’Keefe’s stuff?”
“No, Kali. I gave it to Professor Embuste.”
“That repulsive little shrimp. Adam, you didn’t, you couldn’t!”
“Couldn’t what?”
“Give him—you know—the things you’ve found out from O’Keefe.” Adam was silent, and Kali cried, “The only way I can think of to make you trust me is to stay with you, so you’ll know I’m not going to anybody with information. And it’s safest for me, too. If daddy finds out I’ve told you anything he’ll kill me.”
“But you haven’t told me anything.”
“
I’ve told you that I know what he’s doing.”
“But I already know that, Kali.”
The taxi stopped. Kali jerked around and looked out of the window. Adam realized that he had been looking at the girl and not at where they had been driving. She said, “It’s the Bélem Tower. Come on.” She spoke again to the driver, saying over her shoulder to Adam as she climbed out of the cab, “He’ll wait for us.”
They walked down a rough path. “Manueline architecture,” Kali said absently. “Let’s not go in.”
Adam tried to look like an innocent tourist as he faced the great white building jutting out into the water. The tower was something out of Africa, and he could imagine a white-robed man standing at one of the corners (which one would face Mecca?) calling the faithful to prayer.
He could not keep Kali with him, but if she were telling the truth he could not let her go.
Kali turned away from the tower and the water. “All right. I’ll tell you something else. I said I couldn’t work against daddy, but I can’t let you be hurt, either. Because I love you, too, Adam. That’s what makes it so awful. If you double-crossed daddy this morning, I mean, if what you gave Embuste wasn’t right, he’ll be out for blood. He has plenty of people who’d be glad to shoot you down for a small sum—or for past favors. But everybody knows me, and as long as you’re with me you’ll be safe. Look.” Adam could see a dark figure slip into the shadows of the tower. “That’s one of daddy’s men. I don’t know if they’ve found out anything about you—I don’t know what you’ve done—so I don’t know if he’s really after you or just keeping tabs. Let’s go back to the taxi.”
They walked over the gritty pavement. Adam held the cab door open, saying, “Let me think.”
“All right, darling, darling.” She sat close beside him, so that her thigh touched his, but she did not put her hands on him, and she did not speak. At the Mosteiro dos Jeronymos she led the way silently, walking rapidly around groups of tourists. When she spoke it was quietly, unemotionally, in the polite way of someone showing the sights to a distant acquaintance or the friend of a friend.
“It’s a rather austere entrance, but I guess that’s all right for a monastery. One of daddy’s men is over there, stay close to me. The reddish color of the stone is lovely, don’t you think? Daddy says that the proportions are more harmonized than in any other building in Lisbon except the Saô Juan Chrysostom. He’s looking at us. This is Vasco da Gama’s tomb, but they had the wrong man in it for a while or something. Come on, this way. The cloister is famous because it’s two-tiered, like the Chrysostom, and they both have these open cells leading off them. I don’t know what the monks used them for. Let’s go, Adam.” The control of her voice slipped. “I want some tea.”
The Arm of the Starfish Page 20