‘Oh yes, Albert Einstein, Bertrand Russell, Harold Laski, they all nominated him, but he was defeated by John Galsworthy. And W. Somerset Maugham, he was once nominated for the Nobel Prize, but he lost because a majority of the judges said that he was too popular.’
Sue Wiley clapped her hands. ‘Wonderful. Home run, Mr. Daranyi. And you’ve got more where that came from?’
Daranyi felt the tension go out of his shoulders. ‘Much, much more, Miss Wiley.’
‘Good. We’re in business.’
His confidence came hobbling back. ‘Not quite, Miss Wiley. This is a two-way proposition. I have not yet heard what you have to offer.’
His sudden lack of timidity surprised not only himself but Sue Wiley as well. ‘You don’t have to worry about my end of it,’ she said. ‘I’m loaded. When we get back to the hotel-’
‘I must know now,’ he said, more than ever pleased with himself. ‘I must have what you call the preview sample.’
‘All right,’ she said generously, ‘fair’s fair. Let me see-’
He recalled the names on which Krantz had placed emphasis. ‘Dr. John Garrett?’ he suggested.
‘Garrett?’ Sue Wiley nodded. ‘Sitting duck. He and Dr. Carlo Farelli hate each other.’
‘I know all about that, Miss Wiley.’
‘You do?’ Her eyebrows had shot up, and now she was suddenly respectful.
‘Indeed I do. They had an altercation at the Royal Banquet. And on another public occasion.’ He was pleased to retaliate in this way, and silently he thanked Hammarlund’s secretary.
‘Well, do you know that Garrett is in psychoanalysis in Los Angeles?’
‘No, that I did not know. Most interesting. I would be pleased to hear more.’
Sue Wiley glanced about her. ‘Not here. But soon enough. Are you satisfied?’
‘What about Professor Max Stratman?’
‘There’s not too much new on him. You know about his background during the war?’
‘I do.’
‘Mmm. But in Stockholm?’
‘I know nothing.’
‘Well, then,’ said Sue Wiley, ‘for one thing, he’s apparently got a heart condition, been seeing a heart specialist at the Southern Hospital. Also, he had lunch at Riche the other day with some big-shot German Commie-I don’t know who yet, somebody who just checked in from East Berlin.’
Daranyi’s veins swelled in his temples. This was good, too good. He tried to think: was this armament for Krantz or against Krantz? He wondered. Then he remembered that he had his role. ‘Yes-yes-interesting, Miss Wiley. Of course, not exactly material of enduring quality for a staid historian-yet, one never knows. I think you will be a useful contributor. Indeed, I shall acknowledge your help in my book.’
‘Just leave me out of your book,’ said Sue Wiley. She observed the waitress coming with their tray, and beyond the waitress, just being seated, the famous actress, Marta Norberg, and a rather severe woman who resembled a governess and whom she suddenly identified as the writer Craig’s sister-in-law. ‘Here’s lunch,’ she said to the Hungarian. ‘About time. The place is getting too crowded. Let’s make it fast and get back to the hotel. Our afternoon’s work is cut out for us.’
Emily Stratman hummed softly as she rode the elevator to the third floor of the Grand Hotel. Although she had long ago banished all that was German from her life, the tune that she now hummed, a stray wisp of recall from childhood, was
It was 4.10, and Emily’s frame of mind was mellow and quietly happy. The late luncheon given by several members of the Nobel Committee for Physics, and their wives, in the large apartment on Ringvagen, had been more pleasant than she had expected. The wives had spoken so adoringly of their husbands, their children, their home lives, that Emily’s desire to see Andrew Craig again, as she would in several hours for dinner, had been heightened. It was comforting, in a way she had always dreamed but never known, to have someone calling on her, attentive to her, protective even, someone with whom she felt safe and in whom she was emotionally absorbed.
Except for the brief exchange at noon the day before, Emily had not been alone with Craig since that natural embrace on the Hammarlund terrace, when he had kissed her. Or, in truth, had she really kissed him? She wondered what would have happened, been said, if they had not been interrupted by the summons to dinner. She wondered how he would behave tonight and what he might say and what she would say in return. Her constant devotion to him, in the privacy of her hidden fantasies, had at first alarmed her, but now if he was even briefly missing, she was bereft. In her world of make-believe, she had never been closer to any man. Her need for him, and trust in him, dominated her inner existence. How surprised he would be if he could know this! For she knew the reality of her presence in his presence, her withdrawn and withheld inarticulate presence, her aloof and cold untouchability. Well, she would try to represent to him her truer self tonight-that is, if there was a truer self.
Inexplicably, she found herself before the door of the suite, and still humming idiotically. She opened the door with the heavy hotel key, left it on the entry-hall table, hung her coat neatly in the cupboard, then, fingers knitted together behind her head, through her hair, she stretched her shoulders and chest before the mirror, studied the fit of her new wool cardigan suit, and was satisfied.
A bath, she decided, a bubble bath. She would soak and soak, and dream a little, and perhaps nap briefly, before dressing for Andrew.
She strolled lazily into the sitting-room, noticing that the maid had turned the lamps up-outside it was already dark-and then suddenly, turning fully into the room, she froze.
At the opposite end of the room, like a granite statue in a chair, sat Leah Decker.
Involuntarily Emily brought her hand to her mouth, and emitted a gasp. Her heart raced-the occupant had been so unexpected in a room that she had thought only her own-and then she closed her eyes, and animated herself with a shudder, and looked at Leah Decker.
Leah remained unmoving. ‘I’m sorry to have scared you, Miss Stratman,’ she said, but the voice was unusually hard and bore no inflection of apology.
Emily laughed nervously. ‘How silly of me. It was just that I didn’t expect-’
‘I know this is improper,’ Leah said. ‘I fetched the maid and told her who I was and asked her to let me in. It was important to see you. I wanted to take no chance of missing you.’
Emily felt confusion at her visitor’s conduct and her bitter tone. Her mind leaped to Craig. This was his relative. Emily moved a few tentative steps towards Leah. ‘Is there anything wrong, Miss Decker?’
‘Should there be?’ said Leah laconically. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, that’s what brought me here. I think you’d better take a seat, Miss Stratman. You and I are going to have a short talk.’
Leah Decker was totally in command, her voice so imperative (so familiarly Germanic to Emily’s oldest memory), that Emily obeyed without question. Hastily, she took the chair nearest Leah, and gripped the arms, and waited in befuddlement.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘You seem so-you seem upset.’
‘I am upset.’ Leah’s voice was nasal and imperious. ‘I have every right to be. Things have been going on behind my back, ugly things, and I want them out in the open.’
‘I have no idea what you are speaking about.’
‘You will, you will, indeed, in a minute. I had lunch today with Marta Norberg.’
She said it as if it would mean something to Emily, but it meant nothing, and so Emily said nothing.
Leah resumed. ‘Marta and I had a long talk about my brother-in-law. And then we discussed you.’
Emily was honestly astonished. ‘Me? I didn’t know Miss Norberg was aware of my existence. What could you find to discuss about me?’
‘You’re very clever, Miss Stratman, but you will find I am no fool either, so you needn’t try any of your tricks on me.’
Leah’s tone was offensive, and Emily was instantly affronted by it. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Decker-’
‘Never mind. You’ll find I’m blunt and to the point, as I have a right to be. My brother-in-law called upon Miss Norberg last night at her residence. He was trying to sell her his next book for movies. According to Marta
