“Just a moment.” El Presidente gestured to the chauffeur in front. “The door locks are controlled by the driver.”
The lieutenant got out of the car and came around to open the door. Dax started to walk away but he was stopped by el Presidente’s voice.
“Vaya con Dios, mi hijo.”
Dax turned. El Presidente was leaning forward at the open door of the car. There was a curiously sad expression on his face. For a long moment the two men looked at one another, the tired old man whose face seemed held together by a thousand wrinkled lines, and the weary young man whose face had lost its illusions.
“Gracias, excellency,” Dax said gravely. “Vaya con Dios.”
El Presidente ordered the door shut and disappeared behind the curtains as the big car took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind as it cut across the airfield toward the road. Dax watched until it had disappeared from sight, then started back to the terminal.
***
The big plane banked slowly over the sea, then moved back inland. As the no-smoking sign went out, Dax reached for a cigarette. The stewardess came down the aisle and stopped by his seat. “Señor Xenos? The messenger who brought this asked me to be sure you got it the moment we were airborne.”
“Thank you.”
The stewardess walked away as Dax opened the envelope and stared down at the note.
Dax,
I am sorry. Please forgive me.
Amparo
Slowly he tore the note into tiny pieces and stuffed them into the ash tray. He lit a cigarette and looked out the window. They were approaching the mountains now. He felt the vague pressure holding him against the seat as the plane continued to lift. He looked down.
The blue, jagged, snow-topped mountains of Corteguay. Suddenly his eyes blurred with tears. He closed them and leaned his head back wearily against the seat.
He would never see them again.
11
“Over there,” Sue Ann said, pointing to where Dax lay outstretched, face down on the sand.
“Oui, madame,” the beach boy replied, grinning. Sue Ann followed him silently past the early sunbathers. Expertly the boy rolled out the matelas and draped a towel over it. Sue Ann took a franc from her beach bag and handed it to him. He touched his finger to his forehead and went away, still grinning his toothy grin.
Silently she dropped onto the mattress and stretched out on her back. The sun felt good, warm on her skin. She stirred lazily and turned slightly on her side.
Dax had one eye open and was looking at her. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Sue Ann replied. She took out a bottle of sun lotion and began to apply the cream to her face. When she had finished she held out the bottle. “Would you do my back, please?”
“Of course.” Dax sat up and she turned her back. His fingers were strong as they touched her.
Sue Ann looked out over the blue water. The sailboats were out early that morning and just beyond the bathing ropes a speedboat roared by towing a pair of water-skiers. “You’re a hard man to catch up to.”
“I don’t think so,” Dax replied. “I’ve been on the beach all morning.”
“I read about your divorce in the papers. I went to New York to find you, but you’d already gone.” She still was not looking at him. “They told me you had gone to Paris, so I went there, but you’d already left for Rome. In Rome I found you’d gone to Cannes. I was surprised to find you here. I really expected you’d go back to New York.”
Her back was completely anointed. “Enough?”
“Enough.” Sue Ann turned over on her stomach and looked at him. “What are you running away from?”
He smiled, meeting her eyes. “I’m not running from anything. I just have nothing better to do.”
“Your actress friend,” Sue Ann asked, glancing around the beach, “where is she?”
Dax laughed, his teeth white against his dark face. “Dee Dee? Too early for her; she never gets up until one.”
“What do you see in her anyway?” Sue Ann asked. “She’s such a bad actress.”
“She’s fun.”
“I find it hard to believe. She looks so soft and mushy. A good stiff prick would let all the air out.”
Dax laughed. “Don’t let appearances fool you. She’s a better actress than you think. She’s quite strong, really.”
“Could be. But not strong enough for a man like you. Not like me.”
Dax studied her for a moment. “There’s no one quite like you.”
“Good or bad?”
“Both.”
She seemed satisfied with his answer. “Her husband has filed suit for divorce in New York, naming you as correspondent. Are you planning to marry her?”
He shook his head. “No. We both agree that I am not wealthy enough to afford her.”
She smiled. “They say he found you both in bed. It must have been rather embarrassing.”
“It wasn’t really.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “It was really quite civilized.”
He remembered the night when the lights had come on suddenly in her bedroom and her husband had been standing there in the doorway. He was blinking both at the light and at the sight of them sitting up naked in the bed. “Oh, I beg your pardon.”
“Hugh!” she had cried. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
Her husband looked down at his watch. “It is tomorrow. I came in on the midnight plane from the coast.”
“Those damn schedules! I never could understand them.” Dee Dee had looked at Dax, then back at her husband. “By the way, you two haven’t met. Hugh, this is Dax.”
Her husband had made a sort of stiff bow from the doorway. “How do you do?” he mumbled politely.
Dax nodded gravely. He didn’t speak.
“Well, I think I’d better be going.”
A look of concern crossed Dee Dee’s face. “But where will you find a place to stay, Hugh, at this hour of the night?”
“I’ll go to my club.”
Dee Dee nodded. She seemed relieved. “But make sure they give you an air-conditioned room. It’s so damn hot here in New York.”
For the first time her husband seemed horrified. “You know how I detest air-conditioning!” He turned in the doorway. “Well, good night.”
“Hugh!” she cried out suddenly.
“What is it?”
“I’m such a featherhead, I almost forgot.” Dee Dee turned to Dax. “Give me that pillow.”
Dax had taken the pillow from behind him and held it out to her. “This one?”
“No, silly,” Dee Dee had replied in an annoyed voice, “not that one. That’s your pillow. The one next to it, Hugh’s.”
Wonderingly, he had watched as she put her hand inside the pillowcase. She seemed to be searching for something, and at last she found it, a small gift-wrapped package. She jumped out of bed oblivious of her nakedness and ran to her husband. “Your birthday present!”
Her husband took the package and looked down at it. “Thank you.”
“I hope you like it.” Dee Dee smiled, then kissed him on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Hugh!”
“Er, yes.” He had stood there for a moment more, looking at her, and when he finally spoke, his voice was unusually mild. “Better get back into bed, dear. You’ll catch your death with that damn air-conditioner blasting on you like that!”
“What have you been doing with yourself since your return from Korea?” Sue Ann asked, bringing him rudely back to the present.
“Nothing very much,” he said casually. “Actually, I’ve been taking flying lessons. I just got my license.”
“Planning to get a plane?”
Dax shook his head. “No. The one I’d like is a twin-engine Cessna but they’re too rich for my blood. The others haven’t the range or the speed.”
“I’ll buy it for you,” Sue Ann said suddenly.
Dax looked at her. “Whatever for?”
“Just like this.” Sue Ann snapped her
fingers. “I can afford it.”
“No, but thanks. An airplane like that is like a yacht. The upkeep is higher than the cost.”
Sue Ann was silent for a moment. “Have you made any plans?”
“Not really. I’m still getting used to the idea of having nothing special to do. Next month I’ve been invited on a safari in Kenya.”
“Going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What about your friend?”
“Dee Dee’s going to Paris to work on some picture, so I probably will go on that safari. The idea of spending the hot summer in Paris doesn’t appeal to me all that much.”
Sue Ann felt a glow of satisfaction spread over her. If Dax felt like that there was no need to be concerned. There was a mild commotion on the beach behind them, and they turned to look. Dee Dee was coming down the steps to the Carlton plage, and the photographers were falling all over themselves trying to get her picture. She was dressed in a flowing pastel summer chiffon print. A large picture hat and a parasol of the same material as her dress shielded her face from the sun. The photographers parted finally and she came down the beach toward them, her high heels sinking into the soft sand.
Dax got to his feet. “Dee Dee, this is Sue Ann Daley. Sue Ann, Dee Dee Lester.”
“Miss Daley,” the actress said with a faint hint of malice. “I’ve heard so much about you all these years. I’m glad to meet you.”
Sue Ann smiled, getting to her feet. “And I’ve just heard all about you.” She looked at Dax. “Well, I’ve really got to be going.”
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt anything,” Dee Dee said quickly, “I can’t stay but a moment. I can’t take the sun. My skin is so delicate, you know. I just came out to see how Dax was doing.”
Sue Ann smiled. “Dax is doing fine,” she said sweetly. “You weren’t interrupting anything important.” She picked up her beach bag. “So nice meeting you, Miss Lester.”
Dee Dee smiled back. “Nice meeting you.”
“Just be good to him,” Sue Ann continued, “after all, we are going to get married.”
Sue Ann turned her back on them and walked away.
12
The hostess was still a very attractive woman, Jeremy thought, in her mid-forties but still possessing traces of the exciting beauty she must have had in her youth. “Come along to the cocktail party,” Dax had urged, “there are always some interesting people at Madame Fontaine’s,” and since he had had nothing better to do until his dinner appointment, Jeremy had come along.
Dax had been right, there were some interesting people there. Just the proper blend of politicians, diplomats, writers, artists, show people, and the ordinarily wealthy. It was a bright salon and from the pleasantly casual manner in which everything was carried out Jeremy suspected the hostess had been giving such little affairs for a long time.
“It is fascinating,” the man on his left said, “the way you Americans can elect a new President and until he takes office the old one remains completely in charge. He still makes many decisions and even appoints people who will survive his own administration.”
Jeremy smiled. “Perhaps it is because the new President is aware that in a few months he will have the same opportunity.” From the corner of his eye he noticed the hostess, summoned by a maid, pick up the telephone.
“But Eisenhower is going to Korea to end the war. Is he not usurping some of the duties of office?”
“Not really,” Jeremy explained. “You see, he’s still acting wholly as a private citizen. He cannot initiate any of his plans until he assumes office.”
“It is too much for me to understand,” the other said in a puzzled voice. “In my country if a man is elected he becomes President that very day. Thus there are never two Presidents.”
In your country if a man is elected to office, it is a miracle, Jeremy thought, though he wasn’t much interested in what was being said. He was far more curious about the telephone conversation between the hostess and whoever she was speaking with. Whatever it was affected her visibly. Almost before his eyes she seemed to be growing older.
Finally she drew a deep breath. “A demain,” she said into the telephone, and put it down. She stood there silently for a long moment as if she were trying to pull herself together. Bit by bit some of the mask of her vitality fell back into place. She took a glass of champagne from a passing tray and walked over to the big bay window overlooking her garden and stood there, staring out silently.
Jeremy was curious about what was holding her interest for so long. By stretching his neck slightly he could see into the garden where, as usual at these affairs, there was a variety of small dogs, yapping and scampering about, left there by their mistresses. And as usual there was one little poodle, hornier than the others, jumping around crazily, trying to mount first one dog, then another. As Jeremy watched, he discovered one bitch who did not throw him off, and with an almost visible expression of satisfaction, he settled down to his task.
The hostess, too, seemed fascinated. Silently she stood there, alone in the window, the room behind her obviously forgotten. When she finally spoke it was as if her thoughts, meant only for her own ears, came from her lips without her being aware of them.
“Look at the little bitch, how happy she is with that cock dancing inside her. She looks around at all the other bitches so proudly. She alone has the cock and she wants them to envy her. And the dog, the damn fool. He thinks he is doing it all, that the triumph is his alone. In his stupidity he thinks he has conquered her but in the end it is she who will triumph.”
Jeremy turned to Dax, who had come up beside him. “Do you hear what she is saying?”
Dax nodded.
“I’m sure that everyone else can, too.” Jeremy looked around the room. They could hear, all right. Bit by bit the other conversations were fading as they all began to listen, secretly at first, not looking in each other’s faces, then more overtly.
“Why doesn’t someone stop her?” Jeremy asked in a horrified whisper.
“Let her talk, it is good for her. For years she has been the mistress of Monsieur Basse, the ministre. It is in this very same salon that she courted favors for him and helped promote his career. Now there is talk that he has found a younger woman and no longer has time for her.” But despite what Dax said, he crossed the quiet salon to stand beside her in the bay window silently.
“What does that little bitch know about what to do with that jabbing cock or with the male to which it is attached? I know what I would do. I would caress him, kiss him, lick him, praise him until he was really swollen with his own strength and power and then I would make room for him inside me and drain his every drop.”
Jeremy saw Dax gently take her arm. She turned toward him, a startled expression on her face as if she had just been awakened from a deep sleep. Then slowly she turned and looked around the quiet salon. Her face was faintly pale beneath her makeup. “He is not coming!” she said, in a suddenly loud clear voice.
Almost immediately the conversations began again where they had been dropped. But the party was over and, one by one, the people began to drift away. Jeremy looked at his watch. It was almost time to change for dinner. He caught Dax’s eye. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”
“Ten o’clock, at my place.”
Politely Jeremy sought the hostess but she was nowhere to be found so he left without saying good-bye.
***
Jeremy followed Fat Cat to the dining room. Dax was waiting, still in his dressing gown, his face drawn and tired. He was holding a big glass of tomato juice in his hand.
He grinned at Jeremy. “Probably America’s greatest discovery, that tomato juice, lemon, and Worcestershire cure the common hangover.”
“My God! You look like the wrath of God. Where did you go last night?”
“Nowhere,” Dax answered, taking a sip of tomato juice and making a face. “Now if they could only find a way to make this stuff
taste good!”
“I thought you were going to the theater.”
“I changed my mind,” Dax answered. “I remained at Madame Fontaine’s after all the others had gone.”
Jeremy stared at him. Suddenly it came to him. “You mean you fucked her?” he asked incredulously.
“It was the decent thing to do,” Dax replied noncommittally. He shrugged. “Someone had to give the poor woman back her pride.”
Jeremy stared at him speechlessly.
Dax smiled. “And you know, she wasn’t bad. She knew what to do, it was exactly as she said it would be. That Basse must be an idiot.” He took another sip of his tomato juice. “You know, I think that every once in a while we should oblige an older woman. They are so appreciative, it is great for your ego.”
“Oh, brother!” Jeremy said, taking a swallow of the tomato juice Fat Cat had placed before him.
“You do not agree?”
“I do not anything,” Jeremy said. “Mostly I do not understand.”
Dax laughed. “You Americans are strange, you think a hard-on is only for making love. But it can also be used to say so many other things.”
“I don’t get it. I would find it very difficult to—”
“What is so difficult to understand?” Dax interrupted. “Your cock is a part of you, like your hands or feet. You would not let them do or take you where they wanted. What is so different about the penis that it should be considered beyond your control?”
“I quit,” Jeremy said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You’re either too civilized or too primitive for me!”
Dax finished his tomato juice in a gulp. “To carry along that line of thought, a French breakfast of brioche and coffee is too civilized for me this morning. How about primitive American ham and eggs?”
Jeremy laughed. “That I understand.”
Later, after they had finished eating and were lolling over their coffee, Jeremy looked at his friend. “You seem restless, changed, not the same somehow.”
The Adventurers Page 59