She felt a surge of affection for him. She touched his arm. 'You've no idea how happy I am to see your face,' she said.
He gave her an odd look, as if he was not sure whether to believe her.
She said: 'Why don't you send your men home and come and talk inside?' He hesitated. 'All right.' He turned to one of his men, a captain. 'Jakes, I want you to interrogate the taxi driver, see what you can get out of him. Let the men go. I'll see you at GHQ in an hour or so.'
'Very good, sir.'
Elene led the way inside. It was so good to enter her own apartment, slump on the sofa, and kick off her shoes. The trial was over, Wolff had gone, and Vandam was here. She said: 'Help yourself to a drink.' 'No, thanks.'
'What went wrong, anyway?'
Vandam sat down opposite her and took out his cigarettes. 'We expected him to walk into the trap all unawares-but he was suspicious, or at least cautious, and we missed him. What happened then?'
She rested her head against the back of the sofa, closed her eyes, and told him in a few words about the picnic. She left out her thoughts about going to bed with Wolff, and she did not tell Vandam that Wolff had hardly touched her all evening. She spoke abruptly: she wanted to forget, not remember. When she had told him the story she said: 'Make me a drink, even if you won't have one.'
He went to the cupboard. Elene could see that he was angry. She looked at the bandage on his face. She had seen it in the restaurant, and again a few minutes ago when she arrived, but now she had time to wonder what it was. She said: 'What happened to your face?'
'We almost caught Wolff last night.'
'Oh, no.' So he had failed twice in twenty-four hours: no wonder he looked defeated. She wanted to console him, to put her arms around him, to lay his head in her lap and stroke his hair; the longing was like an ache. She decided impulsively, the way she always decided things--that she would take him to her bed tonight.
He gave her a drink. He had made one for himself after all. As he stooped to hand her the glass she reached up, touched his chin with her fingertips and turned his head so that she could look at his cheek. He let her look, just for a second, then moved his head away.
She had not seen him as tense as this before. He crossed the room and sat opposite her, holding himself upright on the edge of the chair. He was full of a suppressed emotion, something like rage, but when she looked into his eyes she saw not anger but pain.
He said: 'How did Wolff strike you?'
She was not sure what he was getting at. 'Charming. Intelligent.
Dangerous.'
'His appearance?'
'Clean hands, a silk shirt, a mustache that doesn't suit him. What are you fishing for?'
He shook his head irritably. 'Nothing. Everything.' He lit another cigarette.
She could not reach him in this mood. She wanted him to come and sit beside her, and tell her she was beautiful and brave and she had done well; but she knew it was no use asking. All the same she said: 'How did I do?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'What did you do?'
'You know what I did.'
'Yes. I'm most grateful.'
He smiled, and she knew the smile was insincere. What was the matter with him? There was something familiar in his anger, something she would understand as soon as she put her. finger on it. It was not just that he felt he had failed. It was his attitude to her, the way he spoke to her, the way he &at across from her and especially the way he looked at her. His expression was one of ... it was almost one of disgust.
'He said he would see you again?' Vandam asked.
'Yes.'
'I hope he does.' He put his chin in his hands. His face was strained with tension. Wisps of smoke rose from his cigarette. 'Christ, I hope he does.'
'He also said: 'We must do this again,' or something like that,' Elene told him.
'I see. 'We must do this again,' eh?'
'Something like that.'
'What do you think he had in mind, exactly'
She shrugged. 'Another picnic, another date-damn it William, what has got into you?'
'I'm just curious,' he said. His face wore a twisted grin, one she had never seen on him before. 'Id like to know what the two of you did, other than eat and drink, in the back of that big taxi, and on the riverbank; you know, all that time together, in the dark, a man and a woman-'
'Shut up.' She closed her eyes. Now she understood; now she knew. Without opening her eyes she said: 'I'm going to bed. You can see yourself out.' A few seconds later the front door slammed.
She went to the window and looked down to the street. She saw him leave the building, and get on his motorcycle. He kicked the engine into life and roared off down the road at a breakneck speed and took the corner at the end as if he were in a race. Elene was very tired, and a little sad that she would be spending the night alone after 0, but she was not unhappy, for she had understood his anger, she knew the cause of it, and that gave her hope. As he disappeared from sight she smiled faintly and said softly: 'William Vandam, I do believe you're
