someone who's mastered a tricky piece of foreign jargon.
That got Diana's attention. She opened her eyes. 'You mean that somebody was trying to kill you, specifically?'
'That's my guess,' I said, glad that at least she was talking with me. 'We took Kaz out of the hospital soon after the killings there. He had deciphered a code, and we thought the killer might make a move on him.'
'How did they know where you were going?'
'Plenty of people in the hospital knew we were leaving. A doctor named Dunbar checked Kaz out. Rita, a nurse-you know her-she knew, and so did Captain Morgan. Each of them could've mentioned it to half a dozen people. There's a working phone in Walton's office; he's the Hospital CO. The place is run pretty loosely. Anybody on that staff could've walked into his office and made a phone call.'
'No, that's not what I mean, Billy,' Diana said, holding onto her long hair as the wind whipped it against her face. 'I mean how did they know your route?'
I started to explain it to her, and as soon as I opened my mouth I knew it didn't make sense. 'Well, they knew we were attached to headquarters, which is based at the St. George Hotel…'
'But you weren't going to HQ exactly, were you?'
'No,' I said slowly, thinking it through. I didn't speak for a minute as a small convoy of trucks pulling big 155mm artillery pieces passed us, headed out of the city. The two-wheeled cannons bounced and pounded on the uneven road surface, kicking up a cloud of sand and grit that swirled around us and stung the skin on my face and hands. Diana covered her eyes and mouth until the convoy passed and we drove out of their dust, the hot air flowing around us feeling comparatively fresh and clean as it blew the gritty sand off of us.
'We told Dunbar we were taking Kaz back to his quarters,' I said, picking up where I had left off, 'but we never said where that was.'
'Yes!' Kaz. 'I remember thinking that it would be too ostentatious to mention where we were staying. Whoever contacted the shooter could not have guessed that. The St. George is only for senior officers.'
'You didn't tell Rita, when you were filling her in on all the baron stuff?'
'No, Billy, I did not.'
'So how did they know?' Diana asked.
'Maybe Colonel Walton found out when he contacted HQ to check us out,' I guessed. 'That was after we found Casselli's body and he had me assigned to look into the murder. He talked to somebody at headquarters, maybe he got wise to it then.'
I gripped the steering wheel hard, until my knuckles were white. I was steamed at myself. It was such a simple thing to overlook, so obvious that I had never even considered it. Somebody had to have known exactly where Kaz was quartered. There were hundreds of guys attached to HQ spread out all over Algiers, in tents, garages, small hotels, you name it. It couldn't have been a lucky guess.
I didn't feel like talking. I was glad when we drove into the shade and started seeing houses nestled in among palm trees and green, flowering bushes. The Arab homes came first, rounded white stucco houses, decorated with colorful geometric tiles above the doors and windows. Then came the European homes, more widely spaced and built from stone, with white crushed-rock driveways and iron gates. I thought about all those people inside, Arabs and French, leading their lives, going to work, worrying about the rent or mortgage, arguing, kissing, reading the newspaper, yelling at the kids, just a stone's throw away from our jeep. So near to a place where the only color was khaki and daily life was the same routine, over and over again, until you went out and got killed or lost a leg or part of your soul. I looked over at Diana and wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, to bring her to one of those houses disappearing behind us as we drove further into the city, and surround her with the peaceful rhythms of daily life. I wanted to shelter her from the cruelty and evil brought into our lives by this war. But then what? What would I say when she asked me again if everything was going to be all right? What the hell was I supposed to say?
I turned a corner and downshifted, slowing down for a line of traffic headed for the hotel. Jeeps, staff cars, some civilian vehicles, were all jammed together waiting for a security check. Ike was in town, and with the Darlan deal in the works there was good reason to check things thoroughly. We inched forward, then stopped. I tried to think of something to say, and felt like I was back in Boston, in high school and on my first date, trying to make some remark that wouldn't sound like it came from the jerk I knew I was.
'Sorry for the wait,' I said. Brilliant. Yeah, speak like a chauffeur, that's a great idea.
'I have time,' Diana said. 'I'm coming back from a failed mission. No one will be in a hurry to debrief me, I'm sure of that much.' She turned away and rubbed her eyes. Was it fatigue? Or tears? Was she crying for her failure, the agony and humiliation, the wasted lives, and for all I knew for the faith she once had in me? I put my hand out and tried to take hers. She shook it off, then buried her face in her hands. Traffic moved and I gunned the engine.
The MPs gave us the once-over, and double-checked Diana's release papers from the hospital. They sent us down the road from the hotel to park the jeep anywhere we could. The place was packed, and lowly lieutenants did not rate their own parking area. We pulled over and got out, walking past stacks of wooden crates, supplies of all kinds, covered by camouflage tarps and guarded by bored GIs walking back and forth, ignoring us and yelling at the occasional Arab who got too close. More tents had sprung up all around the hotel, and some of the gardens had been taken over, sprouting green canvas in place of palm leaves. I took Diana's arm as we went up the steps to the main entrance and she flinched, then relaxed and leaned on me. I guessed I was going to have to take my chances, to wait and see.
Kaz unlocked the door to the room and opened it. Our stuff was still there, just as we'd left it a few days ago, bedrolls and knapsacks stashed in a corner. The long windows on either side of the bed were open, and a cool breeze drifted in off the water. Diana walked ahead of us, went to the window, and drew aside the curtain. Aquamarine water shimmered in the sunshine, and a few white puffy clouds stood out against a clear blue sky. Deep green palm fronds just outside the window swished as the wind coming in from the Mediterranean blew the tops of the trees back and forth, sending a cooling breeze into the room. The gauzy curtains fluttered around Diana, brushed against h like a caress, and then withdrew as the wind pulled them back against the windowframe. On the table there was a glass pitcher beaded with cold moisture holding orange juice, glasses turned upside down paper doilies, next to flowers in a vase. She turned from the view and looked at the room, the white sheets on the four- poster bed with mosquito netting draped over the top, the vibrant colors of the orange juice and the pink flowers, the couch upholstered in a deep blue fabric, almost the shade of the ocean. There was an odd expression on her face. Maybe she wanted to cry again, but couldn't.
She looked confused. Then she fainted. Her eyes rolled up and her knees buckled. I made a dive to catch her before she cracked her head on the floor. I held her and put my hand under her head, lifted her and put her in bed.
'Diana!' Kaz said, the urgency in his voice betraying the fear that was just under the surface. 'What can I do?'
'She's okay,' I said, to convince myself as well as him, to calm my own fears. I listened to her breathing and felt her pulse. Normal. It had all been too much, too elegant, too different. Too clean, too white, too pure. I stroked her cheek, one hand still cradling her head, and she half awoke, her eyes opening part way and meeting mine.
'Billy, what happened?'
'You fainted.'
'Damn silly…' She shook her head as if to deny her weakness, then rested her cheek in the palm of my hand.
I knelt by the bedside, pressed up against the night table, as she curled her hand around my wrist. It wasn't really a comfortable position, but I liked it. I could hear the rhythmic, even sounds of her breathing as she dropped off to sleep.
I heard Kaz open the door. 'I will be right back,' he whispered.
By the time Kaz returned, I had managed to free my hand without waking Diana. I sat in the armchair near the window, watching her and looking out at the Mediterranean, trying to make believe we were on our honeymoon, at a seaside resort, and Diana was just taking a nap. The oversized fatigues and unlaced combat boots she was wearing didn't help my imagination. There wasn't much in the way of women's clothing available in U.S. Army warehouses, and I was wondering how to find her something else when Kaz walked in, carrying a couple of parcels and trailed by a very pretty young girl.
