He didn’t answer.
“Would you like a divorce?”
He looked at her and shook his head. “No. Would you?”
“No. May I have a cigarette?”
Silently he held open his case and lit it when she took one. “I wanted to marry you,” she said. “Before the war I had already made up my mind. But—”
“But what?”
“In prison.” She felt the tears coming to her eyes and tried to hold them back. “You don’t know how I felt. I wasn’t clean. What they did. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel clean again.”
She was crying now and couldn’t stop. He reached out and brought her head into his lap. “Stop,” he said softly, “you must stop blaming yourself. I know what fear can make one do. Once, when I was a boy, I put a bullet into my grandfather’s heart so I myself would not be killed.”
She looked into his face. There were lines in it she had never noticed before, lines of pain and sorrow. Sympathy suddenly flowed through her. She caught his hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve been a fool thinking only of myself.”
His eyes were soft and gentle. “Come, it is time you returned to your bed.”
She stayed his hand. “I want to spend the night with you.” His eyes were questioning.
“I can’t keep you from going away, but it’s time I became your wife instead of just the girl you married.”
And she tried. She really tried. But when the moment came and he entered her, she felt only panic. All she could think of was the prison and the long probing instruments they had used to torture her.
She screamed and raved and tore and fought him away from her. Then she turned her face into the pillow and cried. After a while she fell asleep. In the morning when she awoke, Dax was already gone.
6
Somehow the phrase stuck in Caroline’s mind. “I am a man. There have always been girls.” With the war and afterward, many things had changed. Not that. The stories would come back to her. In many ways, from many places. There were always girls wherever he was.
Once toward the end of the war, after an especially messy scandal had been headlined in the papers, her father came angrily into her room waving the newspaper. “What are you going to do about this?”
Caroline took the paper from his hand and glanced at the headline blazoned across the front page of the New York tabloid:
INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOY-DIPLOMAT
NAMED AS CORRESPONDENT.
In Rome, where Dax lived under special diplomatic immunities, he had been charged with conducting an affair with the wife of an Italian count. She handed the paper back to her father. “Dax will be pleased,” she observed dryly. “At least they got in the word ‘diplomat.’”
Her father stared at her. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What more is there to say?”
“He is making a fool of you. Of me. Of our family. The whole world is laughing at us.”
“He is a man. When a man is away from home only a fool would expect him not to get involved with women.”
“He’s not a man,” her father retorted angrily, “he’s an animal!”
“Papa, why are you so upset when I am not? He is my husband.”
“Do you like this kind of notoriety?”
“No, but I have no control over the headlines. What would you have me do?”
“Divorce him.”
“No.”
He stared at her for a moment. “I don’t understand you.”
“That’s right, Papa, you don’t understand me. Nor do you understand Dax.”
“I suppose you do?”
“In a way,” Caroline answered thoughtfully. “If any woman can really ever understand the man to whom she is married.
“Perhaps Dax is an animal as you say. Press the right buttons and he reacts. I’ve seen it. To hatred and danger with violence; to pity with gentleness and understanding; to a woman…” She paused, hesitating a moment, then added almost apologetically, “I can guess though I’ve never really been a woman for him. To a woman he reacts like a man.”
Her father was silent for a moment. “Then you’re going to do nothing?”
“That’s right. Because, you see, Dax knew all this and married me in spite of it. It was the only way he could help me, and for that reason alone I would never ask him for a divorce. If he wants one, I will not object. But until he does, the least I can do is keep my end of the bargain.”
But that became more and more difficult as time went by. Dax’s return hadn’t made it easier for her. It was one thing to hear about something happening three thousand miles away, another to find yourself living with it. The day-by-day infidelities. Caroline would have had to be superhuman not to feel resentment.
The recent affair in New York, for example, with Mady Schneider. The silly little fool had gone so far as to leave her husband and take an apartment in a hotel, telling all her friends that she and Dax were to be married. Somehow the papers had got on to it and one of the reporters had come to their apartment. He had caught Dax and Caroline in the hall, surrounded by their luggage, just as they were leaving for Palm Beach.
The reporter was obviously embarrassed. He cleared his throat finally and asked his questions. Dax had smiled easily and turned to look at Caroline before he answered. “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. Mrs. Schneider and I are good friends, that’s all. Obviously nothing more than that.” He gestured at their luggage. “Because, as you can see, my wife and I are leaving for Palm Beach to visit friends.”
The reporter left, and they had hurried down to the car. On the way to the airport, Dax had said, “I’m sorry you had to be annoyed like that.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m quite used to it by now.”
He hadn’t answered. Just lit a cigarette and looked at her thoughtfully. They were almost at the airport before he remembered the letter in his pocket. “This came for you this morning. I’m sorry, I forgot to give it to you.”
She accepted the letter wordlessly. It was from her father, and reading it she learned for the first time about her brother’s marriage.
“Robert’s married!”
“I know.”
She looked at Dax in surprise. “How? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was on the diplomatic teletype from Paris. I thought you would prefer to hear about it from Robert or your father.”
“Who is the girl? I can’t seem to place the name.”
“Denisonde. She will be very good for Robert.”
“You know her?”
Dax nodded. “She was in the underground with him. She was the one who saved his life.”
“Oh, then she’s the same one he’s been living with?”
He studied her for a moment. Obviously she knew the truth. “Yes, the same one.”
Suddenly her eyes filled with tears and she turned her face away. Poor Papa, she thought, there is so little he is getting from either of his children.
***
James Hadley was the only one at the table on the terrace when Caroline came down. He got to his feet and held her chair for her. “Good morning, my dear.”
“Bonjour, Monsieur Hadley.” She smiled. “Am I too late?”
“No, my dear. Everyone else was too early.” He raised a hand and a servant appeared.
“Just coffee, please.”
Hadley looked at her. “What kind of a breakfast is that for a young girl? You should eat more than that.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. That is all I can eat in the morning. We French do not eat the big breakfasts you Americans do.”
“At least some buttered toast?”
She laughed. “You remind me of my father. He was always trying to get me to eat more.”
“That’s because we both care.”
She glanced at him. Was there more than mere politeness in his voice? He met her eyes steadily and suddenly she found herself flushing. “Just coffee, please.”
; Hadley nodded and the servant disappeared. They didn’t speak until he had returned with the coffee. Caroline sipped from her cup and looked down at the beach. “Where is everyone?”
“They’ve gone sailing.” Hadley chuckled and again there was that curious inflection in his voice. “They’re like children, always looking for something to do. They can’t sit still.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment. “It’s a lovely day for sailing.”
“It is, but I think I will take advantage of their absence and lie on the beach. The rarest thing down here is a day to yourself.”
Caroline smiled. “I was thinking of going in to Palm Beach to do a little shopping.”
Almost casually his hand covered hers on the table, patting it gently. “You can do your shopping any day. Why don’t you take advantage of a quiet day on the beach, too?”
She looked down. His hand was tanned and strong and curiously youthful. She felt the heat come into her face again as she looked up at him. But she made no move to take her hand away. “If you’re sure I won’t disturb you?”
***
She felt his approving eyes as she came out of the cabana. “You’re quite lovely.”
Again she found herself blushing. “Not really, not like your American girls. They’re really lovely. Tall, long legs. I’m too small.”
“I like small women,” he said. “A man always feels taller when he’s with a small woman.”
She took out a tube of sun lotion and began to apply it. “I burn very easily.”
“My skin’s like leather. I never get tanned, I merely turn red.”
“I’d feel better if there were a little shade.”
“There’s an umbrella in the cabana,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
Caroline watched him as he got to his feet and went into the cabana. She knew that he was somewhere in his late fifties, but it didn’t show in the way he moved. Though he was almost her father’s age, he seemed much younger.
A moment later he was back, sinking the shaft of the umbrella into the sand beside her. After he had opened it he dropped down next to her. “That better?”
“Much better.” She smiled and held out the sun lotion. “Another favor? My back. I can’t reach.”
His fingers were gentle, and Caroline closed her eyes for a moment. The question, when it came, did not altogether surprise her. “Do you love him?”
Caroline’s eyes flew open. For a moment she did not know what to say. “Who?” she asked almost stupidly.
“Dax,” he replied gruffly, “your husband.”
After a moment she said accusingly, “You wanted to get me alone, that’s why you didn’t go sailing with the others.”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation, “but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“It’s a question I do not have to answer.”
Hadley again put his hand over hers. “That’s answer enough.” He looked steadily into her eyes. “How long do you intend letting it go on like this?”
Caroline looked down at her hand. “Until it’s over,” she whispered.
“It’s been over a long time. It’s just that neither of you is grown up enough to admit it.”
“It’s not his fault,” Caroline said quickly, “it’s mine. There’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Yes, there is. During the war the Nazis did something to me, inside. I’m not a woman anymore.”
Hadley put his hand under her chin. “Look at me.” Slowly she raised her head. His face was set, almost impassive. “What you mean is that you’re not a woman for him. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t be a woman for the right man.”
She began to cry. The tears rolled silently down her cheeks. “I tried to be a woman for him. Really, I tried. But I couldn’t.” She turned her face away. “I’m afraid I never could for any man.”
Once again Hadley turned her face back to his. “How do you know? Have you ever tried?”
Caroline looked at him steadily. Her tears had stopped. Somehow she felt like a very young girl, as if he could see into her mind and into her heart and that she had no secrets from him.
“Do you have to make that stupid trip to Hollywood with him?” he asked, almost harshly.
She felt as if she were being turned inside out. “I—I promised.”
“Do you have to?” he repeated.
“What are you asking me?”
“Tomorrow I’m going back north. I want you to meet me there.”
Caroline took a deep breath. “If you want to have an affair with me I’m afraid you will find me a disappointment.”
He didn’t speak.
“And if you’re asking me to become your mistress,” she added, “it wouldn’t work. I was never any good at intrigue.”
“Before I could ask you that, I should first have to prove to you that you are a woman.”
Then he drew her face to his and she felt the softness of his lips. There was a warmth inside her that she hadn’t been aware of for a long time. When Hadley let her go, there was a troubled look in her eyes. “I don’t know.”
But she did know. That evening she told Dax that she was returning to New York, and that he would have to go to the Coast alone.
7
“I have enough ships,” Abidijan said emphatically. “If you think they’re such a good thing, you buy them. And you pay the storage too; there ain’t all that much business.”
Marcel studied his father-in-law. The old man glared back belligerently. “I might just do that.”
“You do that, but tell me one thing. What are you going to use for money?”
Marcel didn’t answer.
“Well, don’t come to me for it. I had one good sample of your half-assed schemes. It was me had to bail you out of that sugar deal.”
Marcel got to his feet. There was a burning sensation in his chest. “You didn’t lose by it,” he said tightly. It was true, neither of them lost. In fact they had ended up making a lot of money.
“But it took how long?” the old man asked. “I got better things to do with money than tie it up in worthless ships I might someday find a use for.”
“O.K., but remember I came to you first!”
“I’ll remember,” Abidijan said. A sudden smile came over his face. “If you don’t mind a little advice, why not ask your partner, Hadley? He can afford to finance you out of the profits you made him on that Corteguayan franchise. I wouldn’t feel too bad if you lost him a little money.”
In spite of himself, Marcel found himself smiling. The bad blood existing between Hadley and the old man was well known. Hadley was Amos’ greatest competitor. He had been able to reach a rating agreement with the Greeks but Hadley couldn’t have cared less. He underbid them time after time.
Abidijan saw Marcel’s smile and immediately his mood changed. He got to his feet and came around the desk. “I’m talking to you like a father. What do you need more money for? You got enough money. You got a wife, three beautiful children. And someday when I’m gone, all this.” He made an expansive gesture around the office.
Sure, Marcel thought ironically, all mine. But it would belong to Anna and her sisters. Even to my children. But not to me. He forced a warmth into his voice that he did not feel. “I know, Father. But you were young once. You know how I feel.”
“I understand.” His father-in-law placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “But you’re young yet. Don’t be in such a hurry. There’s plenty of time.”
Marcel left his father-in-law and walked down the corridor to his own office. His secretary looked up as he came in. “Mr. Rainey called while you were out. I have the operator’s number in Dallas.”
“Call him back.” Marcel continued on into his office. He sank into the chair behind the desk and stared thoughtfully down at the papers. Presently he picked up one and studied it. “Government Surplus” was the heading, a mimeographed form on poor-quality paper listing items
the government was putting up for sale. Halfway down the sheet there was a blue circle around one of them: 20 liberty-ship class-two oil tankers.
He put down that sheet and picked up another. Much the same, even the heading. Only the district where the sale was to be held was different. This time the blue circle was around an item consisting of five tankers. Quickly he riffled the papers and made a neat stack of them. One hundred and thirty tankers in all were up for sale.
Already this was the third offer. An asterisk next to each of the items stated that. If the tankers were not sold this time around, they would be junked. The government already had enough such ships in mothballs.
Marcel placed his hand angrily on the stack of reports. His father-in-law was a fool. So were the Greeks. All they were interested in was freighters. They had enough tankers. Now that the war was over there would not be the same demand for oil, and if there ever was they could always add to their fleets. For now there were much more profitable cargoes to carry.
The telephone rang and Marcel picked it up. “Campion here.”
“Cal Rainey.” There was an undercurrent of excitement in the flat Texas drawl. “You were right. I managed to get a hold of the geological surveys. There’s an oil shelf off Venezuela, and it looks as if it might run down the whole continent.”
“Corteguay too?”
“The best chance of all.”
“What about the other thing?”
“They’re interested,” Rainey said, “but they won’t talk until they are positive you can guarantee transportation. Abidijan and the Greeks tell them the costs will run too high.”
“I see.” Marcel took a deep breath. Once again he stood in the pit at the gambling house in Macao watching the cards turn over. One at a time, with a fortune riding on each one, and never knowing whether the next one would be the one that broke you. But the fascination was there, the dangers that drew him like an irresistible magnet.
Perhaps his father-in-law was right. Maybe he didn’t need the money. But he could no more help himself than he could stop breathing. “Go back and tell them I will guarantee the transportation.”
“But they will want to know how you can guarantee that.”
The Adventurers Page 43