“I thought you might,” she said softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Still, it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to believe me. I have some papers. Here,” she said. Connolly heard her take out the envelope. “Let someone else decide.”
“You are serious. What is it?”
“Scientific information about the project. A part of it. People only know parts. But Steven has more. Give them to somebody who’ll know what they mean. I wouldn’t have the faintest, and neither would you, so don’t even bother. But they’ll know. And they’ll know he’s real. He just wants to talk to somebody, that’s all. While there’s time.”
“What makes you think I can do this?”
“You know people-you were always good at that. Look, Matthew, I never said you were a spy, whatever that means. Maybe you are-I don’t care, so much the better. All the comrades are a little bit, aren’t they? They all like a bit of intrigue between meetings. Anyway, you don’t have to spy on anybody. Just pass it on and there’s an end to it. Nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with me. Let the comrades decide.”
“You haven’t changed. You always hated them.”
“I hated what they did to you.”
“And now you want to help them.”
“Maybe I don’t care what they do to you anymore.”
In the silence, Connolly could hear a coffee spoon clank against the cup. Don’t quarrel, he wanted to shout. Not yet. You haven’t got him yet.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.
“If I said I believed you, would it make any difference?”
He sighed. “You’ve become hard, Emma.”
“Well, for Christ’s sake,” a voice boomed next to Connolly. “I thought you were in Washington. How the hell are you, anyway?”
Connolly looked up, startled and annoyed, palming the earpiece and lowering his hand. Not now. “Jerry,” he said.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Been over to the paper yet?”
“I’m not back. Just for the day.”
But Jerry, taking a seat, wasn’t listening. “Oswald’s gone, you know. Keeled over right in the city room. Broad daylight. I almost felt sorry for the bastard. But what the hell are you doing up here?”
“Jerry, I’m waiting for somebody,” he said nervously. Behind him he could hear them talking.
“Oh yeah? What, some skirt? For Christ’s sake, Connolly, when are you going to grow up? Hey, you’re looking good, though. You know they promoted that fuck Levine. If you’re smart, you’ll stay in Washington.”
And on. Connolly watched his mouth open and close, the eager sounds a blur of distraction from the low voices on the other side of the booth. Why didn’t he go? Connolly didn’t have to talk, just nod from time to time, but he couldn’t hear the others either, so he sat there in an anxious limbo, trapped while Emma carried on alone. What if they were fighting, picking at old scabs while the envelope sat there, ignored? Still, what could he have done in any case? She had always been alone here. Was she even aware of him? Was she explaining the earnest Corporal Waters? What were they saying? But she didn’t need him any more than Jerry did.
“Come on, Jerry, blow,” he said finally. “I’m waiting for somebody.” He smiled, a kind of leer. “She’s the nervous type.”
“All right, all right,” Jerry said, getting up. “Hey, Ken’s in the bar too. Come and say hello.”
“On the way out, okay? Have one on me.”
“Nah, I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at his watch. “Looks to me like she stood you up.” He grinned.
“Not a chance.”
Connolly lit a cigarette, waving to Jerry at the door, and tried to calm himself. What if Jerry had seen the wire? Made a scene? He picked it up anyway and cradled it against his ear.
“There is one condition,” Emma was saying. What was this? They hadn’t talked about this. Had he agreed, then? “You know I wouldn’t lift a finger for your friends. They’re as bad as the rest.”
“They’re not, but go on,” he said.
“This,” she said, referring to the envelope. “It’s not for them to keep. Not another secret. They’ve got to talk about it, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“People have to know what it is. Otherwise there’s no point. Steven isn’t-political. They have to know that. I won’t have him tricked. Will you promise me that?” she asked, an impossible request.
“People do things for different reasons. We respect that,” he said, oddly formal, on duty.
“No, you have to tell them. It’s not some windfall for your bloody army. He won’t do that.”
“Then why this?” he said, fingering the envelope.
“There’s not enough there to make a bomb, you know. He’s not completely bonkers. Just enough to go public. That’s all he wants. It’s not for him. He’s-he’s a good man.”
“Unlike the rest of us.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully, “in some ways he’s very like the way you used to be. I was always a fool for the good-of-humanity line, wasn’t I? I thought you meant it.”
“I did.”
“Yes. It was caring for one person that was difficult.”
“Emma—”
“Never mind. We haven’t time. I’m supposed to be shopping or something. This is important-thousands of people, not just two. Promise me you’ll explain about Steven.”
“They’ll want to know more, if this is really what you say it is.”
“Yes, he’s prepared for that. But they have to know the why of it. That’s the bargain.”
“They don’t like to bargain.”
“No one’s ever given them something like this before. You’ll see. They won’t believe their luck. God knows they don’t deserve it.”
“Then why hand it to them?”
“Well, it’s a funny old world, isn’t it? They’re all we’ve got. Anyway, it’s not me. I’m just the postman. But promise me, about Steven. No tricks.”
Connolly waited for his answer, the sensible evasion, the obvious impossibility of taking any kind of responsibility for what would happen.
“Yes, I promise,” he said. It was as easy and expedient as a vow, and it was then that Connolly knew she’d wanted him to lie to her, a personal proof.
“That’s that, then,” she said. “I’d better go. Do put that away now, will you? Not the sort of thing one leaves lying about. I can’t tell you the relief, getting rid of it.”
“Emma,” he said, “is it true, all this?”
“Why?” she said, disarming him. “Don’t you think I’d have the guts?”
“I don’t know what you’d do anymore. You’re different.”
“No, still marvelous,” she said, her voice bitter. “But I tell you what. If you have second thoughts, just chuck it in the bin and no one’s the wiser. But I’d have someone give it a look, I really would. Who knows? There might be a promotion in it for you. Just keep my name out of the thank-you speech. Come to think of it, you don’t know my name now, do you? Maybe that’s best.”
“You never used to be like this,” he said, not really answering her. “How do I contact you?”
“You don’t. I’m finished with it now. Steven’s address is inside. A box number. They read the post, by the way, so tell whoever it is to be careful-well, that sounds silly, doesn’t it? Of course they would. Just tell them to give him a time and a place and he’ll know. Somewhere in Santa Fe-he’s not allowed to travel. If he doesn’t hear, well, then he’ll assume the comrades aren’t interested and we’ll have to think of something else.”
“Emma,” he said, his voice low. “In Berlin, when I–I was under orders.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“No, don’t go. You have to know what happened when I left. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anybody. They said lives might depend on it.”
“Lives did,” she said sharply.
