“You want to talk about it?”
I thought about that for a moment and I knew then that there would be only one time that I would tell it honestly, the way I saw it happen, leaving out nothing. And so I told her and in the telling it grew easier and when I came to the part at the end about Padillo there was no reason to hold back the tears.
Afterward we sat there in the dim room, not talking. I asked for a cigarette and she lighted one for me. It tasted all right, so I wondered out loud if I could have some coffee and some brandy. While she went to get them I lay in the darkened room and thought about what I had to do and if I had the strength to do it.
Fredl came back with the coffee and I drank it and sipped on the brandy and then had another one.
“Are they awake?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“Why don’t you give them some of my clothes? They could use them.”
“I already have. They’re presentable.”
“Then help me get dressed.”
It was an effort, but I managed to get into some slacks and a shirt. I left the shorts off. Fredl knelt and worked my feet into a pair of socks and loafers. I ran my hand through her hair. She looked up and smiled.
“Marry me?” I asked.
“Aren’t you rather on the rebound from a lot of things?”
“Maybe, but there’s nothing else I want.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”
I got up shakily. “Let’s go in and post the banns.”
We walked into the living room. Symmes was sitting up on the divan.
“You’d better get Burchwood,” I told him. “There’re some things that have to be settled.”
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I feel all right.”
“You look positively ghastly—like death warmed over.” He left and went into the den to get Burchwood. They both came out and sat on the couch. My clothes looked all right on Symmes. He was tall enough, even if he didn’t have the breadth—or fat. But they draped around Burchwood. The two sat close together on the couch, not touching, and they looked very much as they had when they were in the loft in Berlin.
“Would you like some coffee?” Fredl asked. They nodded. She was going to be a help, I decided. I’d never have thought to ask.
Reminded of my manners, I offered them a cigarette even though I knew they didn’t smoke. “I want to thank you,” I said formally, “for getting me off the barge. You didn’t have to, especially after what you had been through.”
“We had a deal with you and Padillo—remember?” Burchwood said.
“That’s what I want to talk about. You can also talk in front of Miss Arndt. She could be part of your insurance. It all depends.”
“On what?” Symmes asked.
“On what you do. You can walk out that door with my blessing and go any place you take a notion to. Or you can turn yourself in and I’ll make the deal for you that Padillo promised.”
“Can you?” Symmes asked.
“If I can’t, you can still go out that door.”
They were silent for a moment. Fredl brought in the coffee and placed it on the low table in front of them. Then she sat in a chair near me.
“We’ve talked it over,” Symmes said slowly, “and we’ve decided to go back. We still think we were right,” he added hastily. “We’re not two repentant sinners. Don’t take that attitude.”
“I don’t take any attitude at all,” I said. “I don’t know what I would do in your place.”
“You see, Mr. McCorkle, we have no place to go but back. We speak nothing but English; we have no money, no friends; and I doubt that we have any families any more. The thought of going back to Moscow—just the effort alone—is …, well, we just can’t do it. But we don’t want to go back to the U.S. just to get killed. And life has grown very cheap these last few days.”
“You want me to set it up, then?”
They nodded.
“Is now all right?”
They looked at each other. Now was far sooner than tomorrow or the next day. They telegraphed each other their answers and Symmes did their nodding. I picked up the phone and dialed a number that had been given to me a long time ago. A man’s voice said hello.
“Mr. Burmser,” I said.
“Speaking.”
“This is McCorkle. I have a message from Padillo for you.”
