let somebody out there look a long way down it. If the froggies had posted a sniper, he’d be looking this way through a rifle-mounted telescope. Willi had done a little sniping, enough to start to get the feel for it.
He didn’t know the French had put a guy with a rifle out there. No far-off rifleman had punched Anton’s ticket for him. No sniper had got rid of Awful Arno, either. Too bad, Willi thought.
Rolf came out, too, a minute or so behind Willi. No surprise: if you liked jazz, dark deeds on the Rhine wouldn’t be your cup of tea. Rolf crossed the street without hesitation. “You might want to watch-” Willi began.
He couldn’t even finish the sentence before Rolf fell over, shot through the head. The distant report arrived after the bullet. Rolf didn’t even twitch. He just lay there, bleeding. He must have died before he hit the ground. Willi shuddered. It could have been him. Oh so easily, it could have been him.
Going with Pete McGill. had done wonders for Vera’s English. The White Russian girl hadn’t known much before they hooked up with each other. Now she was pretty fluent. Half the time, she even remembered not to roll her r’s. Pete was proud of her-it showed how smart she was. She was a good deal smarter than he was, but that hadn’t occurred to the Marine yet.
If Vera was really smart, her being smarter than Pete never would occur to him. Worrying about whether the girl you love loves you back or is calculating the best way to use you to get what she wants is not likely to make an affair last.
At the moment, Pete wasn’t worrying about anything. He’d just got what he wanted, and his heart was still beating like a drum. Shanghai had any number of places where a man and a woman could walk in together, sign the guest book as Mr. and Mrs., and be asked no questions. This was one of them. The room was small, but the mattress was fairly new and the sheets were clean. He wouldn’t have fussed if they weren’t, but Vera might have. Women are picky, he thought.
He rolled half away from her and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. With a little startled squeak, she made as if to cover herself. “Don’t do that, babe,” he said. “I love to look at you.”
When he did, his manhood stirred again. Before long, they’d start another round. In the meantime, a different urge seized him. He rummaged in the trousers of his civilian slacks (till midnight tomorrow, he didn’t have to look like a leatherneck) till he found his Luckies.
As he tapped one against the nightstand, he held out the pack to Vera. “Want one?”
“Sure,” she said. The word came out just like that-perfect. She might have been born in the States. She took a cigarette, tapped it down on her nightstand, and waited for a light. Pete had to dig out his matches. If he’d been thinking, he would have grabbed them with the butts. If he’d been thinking, he would have been someone else altogether.
He lit a match. His cheeks hollowed as he applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette. Smoke filled his mouth, then his lungs. He dropped the match in the glass ashtray next to the lamp.
Vera leaned close for a light from the hot red coal at the end of his Lucky. As she too sucked in smoke, he cupped her breast with his free hand. She made a little noise that might have been a purr or a laugh. Once she had the cigarette going, she said, “You!”
She didn’t say Men! That would have reminded Pete there’d been others-and how many others?-before him. She was more than smart enough to steer clear of that kind of tactical error.
She did say, “I like your American tobacco.”
The way she said it made Pete feel he’d grown the weed, harvested it, and cured it himself. “Yeah, it’s good, isn’t it?” he said. He’d smoked Chinese tobacco every now and then. It was like inhaling a blowtorch flame. Any smokes were better than none, but still…
After she’d leaned across him to grind out her cigarette (the room had only the one ashtray, and was lucky to have that), and after he’d taken more friendly liberties with her person while she did it, she asked, “How much longer will the Marines stay in Shanghai?”
“I’ve got no idea,” he said, and he might have been proud of having no idea. As a matter of fact, he was. Like any well-trained hunting dog, he went where he was told and did what he was told. He didn’t need to worry about that kind of thing for himself, and so he didn’t. The question did provoke a little more response in him, though: “How come?”
“Because the Japanese can run over you any time they please. Because I do not want anything bad to happen to you,” Vera said.
Pete grunted. Ever since the Japs overran Peking, he’d known that was true. More often than not, a Marine’s pride kept him from admitting it, even to himself. “They mess with us, they’ve got a war on their hands. A war with the USA. They got to know we’d kick their behinds around the block so darn fast, it’d make their heads swim.” That he censored the automatic Marine curses showed she wasn’t just a joy girl for him-he really cared.
“They bombed the Panay. There was no war,” Vera said.
“They apologized afterwards. That’s why,” Pete answered uneasily. “ ’Sides, they’re busy fighting a war with the Russians. They wouldn’t want to tangle with two big countries at once. Japs are crazy, sure, but they aren’t that kind of crazy.”
“They have what they want from Russia. They have Vladivostok.” Vera’s English was a lot better, yeah, but the way she pronounced the town’s named showed what her native language was. “Now Russia has a hard time fighting them.” She spoke with as much assurance as a general.
Pete was good and sure he would never want to suck on a general’s bare tits, though. “What can I do about it?” he said. “I’m nothing but a two-striper. Nobody’s gonna pay attention to me.”
“Talk to your officers. Let them know your concern.” Let them know my concern, Vera meant. Pete vaguely sensed that, but only vaguely. She went on, “Some of what you tell them will go into what they tell the people over them, the people back in America.”
How could she be so sure of that? How much experience of the way the military mind worked did she have? When the question came to him like that, Pete shied away from it. It was almost as if his Corps buddies were razzing him about her. Hell, he didn’t need them. He was doing it to himself, right there inside his own head.
What was going through his mind must have shown on his face. Vera suddenly looked impish. “When you turned on the light, I thought it was because you wanted to watch,” she said. “Here. I give you something to watch.”
And she did. Did she ever! She couldn’t have been more distracting if she’d caught fire. She needed experience with men to know how to do what she was doing, too, but Pete didn’t care. While she was doing it, he didn’t care about anything.
After she got done doing it, he wanted to roll over and sleep for a week. Instead, he smoked another cigarette. Then he did something along those lines for her, too. That went a long way toward proving his love. He never would have done anything like it for anyone he didn’t really want to please. If it also proved Vera washed more often and more carefully than other women he’d known-well, he didn’t consciously notice.
He did notice she gave every sign of being pleased when he did it: one more encouragement for him to do it again. “How am I supposed to go dance tomorrow?” she said. “My legs are all unstringed.”
He thought that was supposed to be unstrung, but he wasn’t sure enough to tell her so. Correcting a girl who’d just paid you a compliment like that wasn’t the smartest thing you could do, either. Pete might not have been the highest card in the deck, but he could see that. Squeezing the breath out of her seemed a better idea. It was more fun, too.
He wished she didn’t have to go on working as a taxi dancer. He gave her what he could, but he didn’t have enough to put her up the way she’d want to be put up if she quit. A Marine corporal was rich by Shanghai standards, but not rich enough to support a mistress. You needed an officer’s pay for that.
Besides, he didn’t want a mistress. He wanted a wife. That thrilled his superiors, too. It was one more reason they wouldn’t listen to him if he came to them with stories of what the Japs were liable to do. Since he didn’t see how he could explain that to Vera, he didn’t try.
As they were walking back to the dance hall above which she lived, she waved at the European-style buildings all around. “All this? Pretty soon-poof!” She snapped her fingers. “What do you say? Rented time?”
“Borrowed.” Pete only shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it, babe. I don’t know if anybody can do anything about it.”
“The Japs can,” Vera said. “That is the point.”
