He turned to the woman in his apartment.
'What was that?' she asked.
'Really want to know?' He smiled.
'Sure' 'A girl friend;' he said.
'I'm glad I didn't say anything,' she said.
'I might have made her jealous.'
He smiled weakly and searched uneasily for the proper words.
'Look' he said, groping.
'This is all getting very much out of control ' He paused.
'If I've betrayed your trust, I'm sorry. But I've been trying to put things together on this case as best I can under the circumstances.' He hesitated.
'Maybe that's not very good.
Maybe what you need is a bigger firm with more power to represent you.
Why don't we both think things over for a day or two?
Then you can decide whether or not you wish to continue with me.
And vice versa.'
She peered at him. He had the distinct impression of being transparent.
'You're trying to get out of the case. Aren't you?' she said.
He wanted to say 'no. But so far, lies hadn't been successful.
'Maybe,' he said, wondering how his father might have played the hand.
'All right,' she said.
'You think about it. And I'll think about it.
But… you won't have to go very far to find me.'
'What do you mean' 'I'm not leaving here' tonight' she said politely.
'There's no way I'm stepping out on the street'' 'What are you talking about?'
'I can't take the chance that your police friends have found where I was staying. Not in the dark anyway. So' she said casually, 'I didn't think you'd mind if I installed myself in your study. The sofa looks comfortable'
'The final word'in lawyer-client relationships,' he mumbled. But then, uneasily, he was convinced he had to agree.
The sound of the bedroom door opening made him turn over on his mattress. He was instantly awake. The light in the room was dim but there was no doubt what he was hearing.
He suddenly felt sweaty. He tried to think of something to take in his hand as a weapon. But there was nothing.
The door opened fully. He sat up quickly. In the dimness he saw her hands. They were empty.
'I'm sorry,' she said very softly.
'I couldn't sleep Relieved, he leaned back against the headboard.
'What's wrong?' he asked.
. She moved forward. There was light from the other room now.
She moved to the edge of his bed and sat down. She looked at him.
Her manner was totally different now, as if she were a different woman.
No longer the toughened woman used to defending herself Now she was nine-year-old Leslie, defenseless and threatened.
'I'm worried,' she said.
'What about?'
'You, 'Me?' He was baffled.
'Why?'
'You're hesitating' she said.
'I'm afraid you're going to drop my case.'
'Jesus,' he thought to himself. Here he was half scared of her.
And now she was upset that she'd be dropped as a client.
'I'm sorry,' she said.
'I've trusted you this far. I've trusted you with my story, with my claim, practically with my life. I was speaking rashly before. I was upset' Her hands were folded in her lap.
The thin nightgown, one of Andrea's, clung snugly to her legs and body.
'I don't want to start all over with someone else,' she said.
'I want you to continue.'
She sat sideways to him. He could see the nightgown's low neckline.
Her face in the soft light was even more delicate and alluring than it was by day. He knew he was being manipulated. She established eye-to-eye contact, but he broke away from it, looking down her trim arms to where the hands and fingers were folded in her lap.
'That telephone call earlier,' she said.
'It concerned me, didn't it?'
He didn't speak.
'The truth,' she said evenly.
'Yes ' 'You don't trust me anymore, do you?' she asked.
'You think there's something wrong.'
'I took your case for two reasons,' he said softly.
'One, I needed money. Two, I believed you. I believe in simple justice under the law, you see' His smile was pained.
'You appeared with a credible, interesting Story. You had been wronged. You had documented proof and a certain amount of apparent sincerity. I felt you deserved your day in court.'
'But something has changed she observed.
'Why are your fingerprints in Washington?'
For a moment her eyes were angry. But they softened quickly.
She calmed herself. Her body was motionless. The question hung in the air.
'How long have you been checking on me?' she asked.
'From the start?'
'I do background on all my clients' he said.
'You believe in simple justice and 'the honor of the individual' she said, mocking slightly.
'But with a security probe tossed in For good measure' 'I'd feel a lot better if you'd answer my question' 'Beneath it all, you're as cynical as the next man.' She looked away.
'But you do deserve an answer.'
'I'm waiting' Again there was a pause.
'My father,' she said.
'I'm afraid nothing's obvious ' 'Arthur Sandler was a spy. You've confirmed that for yourself.
He's still alive and he still knows the proper people in United States intelligence. He doesn't want me alive,' she said bitterly 'Of course my fingerprints are on file somewhere. And if you've been good enough to trigger that central computer, it's only a matter of time before my father comes looking for me again' 'If you're claiming his estate, it's only a matter of time anyway.'
'True,' she said. She fell silent, reflective.
'Consider Arthur Sandler. For every minute of his life that you've been able to account for already, he's wielded power. Every day, from every angle.
In whatever identity he has now, he knows I'm the one person who might give him away. Do you need any further explanation of why my fingerprints would be on file?'
Gently, with a certain defensiveness, she was resting her case, leaving her story open to his judgment. She waited for a reply.
'What I need' he said slowly, 'are photocopies of your documents. Your birth certificate. The marriage certificate. May I?'
She broke into the first natural, calm smile he'd seen from her.
