in his thirties whom Dickstein had seen on the quay earlier that day. So this was Same. The woman smiled at Same. It was a nice smile, a smile to make any man look twice: it was warm and red-lipped, showing even, white teeth, and it was accompanied by a certain languid half-closing of the eyes, which was very sexy and looked not at all. as though it bad been rehearsed a thousand times in front of a mirror. Dickstein watched, spellbound. He had very little idea how this sort of thing worked, bow men picked up women and women picked up men, and be understood even less how a woman could pick up a man while letting the man believe he was doing the picking up. Same had his own charm, it seemed. He gave her his smile, a grin with something wickedly boyish in it that made him look ten years younger. He said something to her, and she smiled again. He hesitated, like a man who wants to talk some more but cannot think of anything to say; then, to Dickstein's horror, he turned away to go. Ile woman was equal to this: Dickstein need not have worried. She touched the sleeve of Same's blazer, and he turned back to her. A cigarette had suddenly appeared in her hand. Same slapped his pockets for matches. Apparently he did not smoke. Dickstein groaned inwardly. The woman took a lighter from the evening bag on the bar in front of her and handed it to him. He lit her cigarette. Dickstein could not go away, or watch from a distance; he would have a nervous breakdown. He had to listen. He pushed his way through the bar and stood behind Same, who was facing the woman. Dickstein ordered another beer. The woman's voice was warm and inviting, Dickstein knew already, but now she was really using it. Some women had bedroom eyes, she had a bedroom voice. Same was saying, '9rhis kind of thing is always happening to me.' 'Me phone call?' the woman said. Sarno nodded. 'Woman trouble. I hate women. All my fife, women have caused me pain and suffering. I wish I were a homosexual.' Dickstein was astonished. What was he saying? Did he mean it? Was he trying to give her the brush-off? She said, 'Why don't you become one?' 'I don't fancy men.' 'Be a monk.' 'Well, you see, I have this other problem, this insatiable sexual appetite. I have to get laid, all the time, often several times a night. Ifs a great problem to me. Would you like a fresh drinkr' Ah. It was a line of chat. How did he think it up? Dickstein supposed that sailors did this sort of thing all the time, they had it down to a fine art. It went on that way. Dickstein had to admire the way the woman led Same by the nose while letting him think be was making the running. She told him she was stopping over in Antwerp just for the night, and let him know she had a room in a good hotel. Before long be said they should have champagne, but the champagne sold in the club was very poor stuff, not like they might be able to get somewhere else; at a hotel, say; her hotel, for example. They left when the floor show started. Dickstein was pleased: go far, so good. He watched a line of girls kicking their legs for ten minutes, then he went out. He took a cab to the hotel and went up to the room. He stood close to the communicating door which led through to the next room. He heard the woman giggle and Same say something in a low voice. Dickstein sat on the bed and checked the cylinder of gas. He turned tke tap on and off quickly, and got a sharp whiff of sweetness from the face mask. It had no effect on him. He wondered how much you had to breathe before it worked. He had not had time to try out the stuff properly. The noises from the next room became louder, and Dickstein began to feel embarrassed. He wondered how conscientious Sarne was. Would he want to go back to his ship as soon as he had finished with the woman?.That would be awkward. It would mean a fight in the hotel corridor-unprofessional, risky. Dickstein waited-tense, embarrassed, anxious. The woman was good at her trade. She knew Dickstein wanted Sarne to sleep afterward, and she was trying to tire him. It seemed to take forever. It was past two A.M. W.hen she knocked on the communicating door. The code was three slow knocks to say he was asleep, six fast knocks to say he was leaving. She knocked three times, slowly. Dickstein opened the door. Carrying the gas cylinder in one hand and the face mask in the other, he walked softly into the next room. Same lay flat on his back, naked, his blond hair mussed, his mouth wide open, his eyes closed. His body looked fit and strong. Dickstein went close and listened to his breathing. He breathed in, then all the way out-then, just as he began to inhale again, Dickstein turned on the tap and clapped the mask over the sleeping man's nose and mouth. Same's eyes opened wide. Dickstein held the mask on more firmly. Half a breath: incomprehension in Sarne's eyes. The breath turned into a gasp, and Same moved his head, failed to weaken Dickstein's grip, and began to thrash about. Dickstein leaned on the saffor's chest with an elbow, thinking: For God's sake, this is too slowl Sarno breathed out. The confusion in his eyes had turned to fear and panic. He gasped again, about to increase his struggles. Dickstein thought of calling the woman to help hold him down. But the second inhalation defeated its purpose; the struggles were perceptibly weaker; the eyelids fluttered, and closed; and by the time he exhaled the second -breath, he was asleep. It had taken about three seconds. Dickstein relaxed. Sarne would probably never remember it, He gave him a little more of the gas to make sure, then he stood up. He looked at the woman. She was wearing shoes, stockings, and garters; nothing else. She, looked ravishing. She caught his gaze, and opened her arms, , offering herself: at your service, sir. Dickstein shook his head with a regretful smile that was only partly disingenuous. He sat in the chair beside the bed and watched her dress: skimpy panties, soft -brassiere, jewelry, dress, coat, bag. She came to him, and he gave her eight thousand Dutch guilders. She kissed his cheek, then she kissed the banknotes. She went out without speaking. Dickstein went to the window~ A few minutes later he saw the headlights of her sports car as it went past the front of the hotel, heading back to Amsterdam. He sat down to wait, again. After a while he began to feel sleepy. He went into the next room and ordered coffee from room service. In the morning Cohen phoned to say the first officer of the Coparelli was searching the bars, brothels and flophouses of Antwerp for his engineer. At twelve-thirty Cohen phoned again. The captain had called him to say that all the cargo was now loaded and he was without an engineer officer. Cohen had said, 'Captain, it's your lucky day.' At two-thirty Cohen called to say he had seen Dieter Koch aboard the Coparelli with his kitbag over his shoulder. Dickstein gave Sarno a little more gas each time he showed signs of waking. He administered the last dose at Six A.M. the following day, then he paid the bill for the two rooms and left.
When Same finally woke up he found that the woman he had slept with had gone without saying goodbye. He also found he was massively, ravenously hungry. During the course of the morning he discovered that he had been asleep not for one night, as he had imagined, but for two nights and the day in between. He had an insistent feeling in the back of his mind that there was something remarkable he had forgotten, but he never found out what had happened to him during that lost twenty-four hours.
Meanwhile, on Sunday, November 17, 1968, the Coparelli had sailed.
Chapter Fourteen
What Suza should have done was phone any Israeli embassy and give them a message for Nat Dickstein. This thought occurred to her an hour after she had told her father that she would help Hassan. She was packing a case at the time, and she immediately picked up the phone in her bedroom to call Inquiries for the number. But her father came in and asked her whom she was calling. She said the airport, and he said be would take care of that. Thereafter she constantly looked for an opportunity to make a clandestine call, but there was none. Hassan was with her every minute. They drove to the airport, caught the plane, changed at Kennedy for a flight to Buffalo, and went straight to Cortone's house. During the journey she came to loathe Yasif Hassan. He made endless vague boasts about his work for the Fedayeen; he smiled oilily and put his hand on her knee; he hinted that he and Eila had been more than friends, and that he would like to be more than friends with Suza. She told him that Palestine would not be free until its women were free; and that Arab men had to learn the difference between being manly and being porcine. That shut him up. They had some trouble discovering Cortone's addressSuza half hoped they would fail-but in the end they found a taxi driver who knew the house. Suza was dropped off; Hassan would wait for her half a mile down the road. The house was large, surrounded by a high wall, with guards at'the gate. Suza said she wanted to see Cortone, that she was a friend of Nat Dickstein. She had given a lot of thought to what she should say to Cortone: should she tell him all or only part of the truth? Suppose he knew, or could find out, where Dickstein was: why should he tell her? She would say Dickstein was in danger, she had to find him and warn him. What reason did Cortone have to believe her? She would charm him-she knew how to do that with men his age-but he would still be suspicious. She wanted to explain to Cortone the complete picture: that she was looking for Nat to warn him, but she was also being used by his enemies to lead them to him, that Hassan was half a mile down the road in a taxi waiting for her. But then he would certainly never tell her anything. She found it very difficult to think clearly about all this. There were so many deceits and double deceits involved. And she wanted so badly to see Nathaniel's face and speak to him herself. She still had not decided what to say when the guard opened the gate for her, then led her up the gravel drive to the house. It was a beautiful place, but rather overripe, as if a decorator had famished it lavishly then the owners had added a lot of expensive junk of their own choosing. There seemed to be a lot of servants. One of them led Suza upstairs, telling her that Mr. Cortone was having late breakfast in his bedroom. When she walked in Cortone was sitting at a small table, digging into eggs over and homefries. He was a fat man, completely bald. Suza had no memory of him from the time he had visited Oxford, but he must have looked
