The house was deserted.
They all reassembled at the central corridor. Evans snapped on the light, jerking the plugs from his ears.
“They’ve gone,” he said unnecessarily.
“Fuck it!” said Jones.
“We get paid.” Hinkler grinned.
“Three minutes to search every room. Take anything that looks like proof,” said Evans.
There was instant, unargued, unqueried obedience, each bedroom and the downstairs area searched hurriedly but well. Marinetti and Sneider remained at the shattered front door, alert for any signal from Melvin. They darted away singly, Evans first to establish guard at the gate, Marinetti staying in position until last at the doorway. Re-formed, they filed back down the lane, moving this time with less caution because they knew there would be no observation. Melvin rose from the ditch when they reached him, looking inquiringly back along the line.
“Too late,” said Evans.
They reached the van unchallenged, driving back towards Mulhouse with the rear interior light on so they could rub the night-black from their faces and remove their dark overalls.
“That was like jerking off in a whore house,” said Melvin, the man who liked to fight.
“Whoever owns that place is going to be mad as hell,” said Marinetti. “We sure made a mess.”
“There would have been a lot more, if they’d been there,” said Evans.
It was not as big as the first farmhouse, more a cottage this time, but it was much farther away from any neighbouring houses or villages. Karen hadn’t really been trying to measure, but she guessed there had been a gap of about ten minutes from the time they had passed through the last sleeping township until they pulled off the road to the new location. Twice, during the hurried departure, Azziz had been sick, ashamed despite his fever at showing weakness in front of a woman. The boy had been her first concern when they had arrived. She had cleaned him again, still careful to avoid any direct physical contact, and had told one of the men to stay with him, mopping him with cold towels. It seemed to be working back at Rixheim. They didn’t bother to manacle him to the bed anymore. Despite Levy’s attempt to prevent it, there was an inflamed ring of soreness around the boy’s ankle.
The house was stocked in readiness. She and Levy ate together off cold meat and wine and fruit. Afterwards, without discussing it, they both went to the same bedroom. They undressed each other with the undiminished excitement of discovery and made love twice in quick succession, as if aware that their relationship had a time limit, not wanting to waste one second allocated to them.
“This place was prepared, just in case,” said Karen. The windows were newly barred, like the farmhouse.
“Of course,” said Levy. “Everything’s been anticipated.”
“By schoolmasters and settlers?” She nuzzled against him, arm tight around his waist as if afraid he might try to escape.
“Underberg’s no schoolmaster. Just a Zionist who thinks like we do.”
“Underberg?”
She felt him tense slightly at disclosing the name. Almost at once he relaxed. “He brought us together,” said Levy. “Until then, there’d been no organization, just a lot of people making a lot of noise, but getting nowhere.”
“Why did we have to leave in such a hurry?”
“Underberg thought it best.”
“You mean they’d found out where we were?”
It was several moments before Levy replied. Then he said, “He’s not sure, but it was a possibility.”
Now it was Karen who remained silent, reminded of what was actually happening to her, that it would have to end; that there was a time limit. “Love me again,” she said huskily. “Quickly, love me again.”
They were trying to conceal the nervousness they had all felt at the abrupt departure, but two empty wine bottles were evidence of the general unease.
“Our leader finds a different way to relax,” said Leiberwitz.
“Maybe he’s gone to bed,” said Kahane loyally.
“He has!” said Leiberwitz. “With the whore.”
“He’s stupid to get involved,” said the smallest man of the group. Mordechai Sela was thin and bespectacled, a schoolmaster like Levy.
“He’s treating us like shit,” complained Greening. “Tete-a-tete meals which we’re expected to serve, like bloody underlings.”
“It’s not causing any problem, is it?” said Kahane.
“Not if he’s just screwing her,” said the fifth man, Levi Katz.
“What does that mean?” said Greening.
“What happens if he becomes fond of her?”
“Rebecca’s my cousin,” said Leiberwitz. “I’m expected to sit by while a man married to my cousin is rutting upstairs with some gentile whore.”
“What can we do about it?” said Morris Habel, the last member of the group.
“Plenty,” said Leiberwitz.
16
Deaken had been so sure that he was going to get Karen back: he had rehearsed what he was going to say, how he was going to care for her. Now he felt numbed and emptied.
“It was absolutely clean,” said Evans, pouring himself a Scotch. There was no shake to his hand, no indication that he laid his life on the line an hour earlier.
“Maybe…” began Deaken, and then stopped, looking at the tie that Evans had taken from his pocket and was offering to Grearson.
“Yes,” said the older lawyer at once. “That’s the Ecole Gagner colours.”
“The boy’s name’s inside,” said Evans. He turned to Deaken. “What about this?”
Nervously, like a man fearing contact with something contaminated, Deaken took the watch. He felt his heart thump wildly and his throat constrict, so that he found it difficult to speak immediately. Then he said, “Yes, that’s Karen’s watch.”
“So they left in a hurry?” said Grearson.
Evans shook his head. “Everything had been tidied, beds made. The whole house. The tie was carefully laid across one bed, the watch in the middle of another.”
“You were meant to find it,” said Grearson.
Evans sipped his whisky. “That’s the way it looked to me.”
“Bastards!” said Deaken.
“Certainly seem sure of themselves,” said Evans.
“How the hell could they have known?” said Grearson.
“Maybe they figured you’d work it out exactly as you did. They know the resources you’ve got, after all.” The American poured himself another drink; the job was over and he was relaxing. He offered the bottle to the two lawyers. Both shook their heads.
“Where are the others?” said Grearson.
“Away,” said Evans, returning to his seat. “By midday tomorrow the inquiries into what happened at the farmhouse will have reached here. We don’t want them to find a vanload of weaponry.”
“Where are they?” said Grearson.
“Clermont Ferrand.”
“Why there?”
“I’d been there before,” said Evans. “Knew there was a hotel called Foch. We needed a contact point.” The man paused. “We did what we were engaged to do.”
“I know,” said Grearson. “The terms stand.”
“Dollars,” said Evans. “Everyone wants to be paid in cash. American.”
