Cities of the Red Night

not to tell him anything he didn't already know.

'Yes, isn't it.'

'I understood it was uh well, a sex murder.' He looked about as embarrassed and salacious as a shark. He was cold and fishy like the Countess de Gulpa. I remembered that he was rich.

'Something like that.'

'It must have been terrible for the family. You didn't tell them the truth?'

Watch yourself, Clem.... 'I'm not sure I know the truth. The story I actually told them is of course a confidential matter....'

'Of course. Profession ethics.' Without a trace of overt irony, he managed to convey a vast icy contempt for me and my profession. I just nodded. He went on. 'Strange chap, Dimitri.'

'He seems very efficient.'

'Very. It doesn't always pay to be too efficient.'

'The Chinese say it is well to make a mistake now and then.'

'Did you know that Dimitri has resigned?'

'He didn't say so....'

'He was the object of professional jealousy. Career men resent someone with independent means who doesn't really need the job. I should know.' He smiled ruefully, trying to look boyish.

'Well, perhaps you can avoid the error of overefficiency.'

He let that roll of him. 'I suppose these hippies go in for all sorts of strange far-out sex cults....'

'I have found their se practices to be on the whole rather boringly ordinary....'

'You've read Future Shock, haven't you?'

'Skipped through it.'

'It's worth look at carefully.'

'I found The Biological Time Bomb more interesting.'

He ignored this . 'Dimitri's dabbling in magic hasn't done him any good either ... career-wise, I mean.'

I could tell he knew I had just been to Dimitri's house for dinner. He was hoping I would tell him something about the house: books, decorations.... Which meant he had never been there. A slight spasm of exasperation passed over his face like a seismic tremor. His face went dead and smooth as a mask, and he said slowly: 'Isn't your assistant awfully young for the kind of work you're doing?'

'Aren't you a bit young for the kind of work you're doing?'

He decided to laugh. 'Well, youth at the helm. Have another beer?'

'No thanks. Got an early plane to catch.' I stood up. 'Well, good night, Skipper.'

He decided not to laugh. He just nodded silently. As I walked out of the bar I knew that he deliberately was not looking after me.

No doubt about it. I had been warned in no uncertain terms to lay off and stay out, and I didn't like it—especially coming at a time when I had about decided to lay off and stay out. And I didn't like having Jim threatened by a snot-nosed CIA punk. The Mafia couldn't have been much cruder.