giant cottonwood, the whine of their buzz saw drowning out the carpenters in the partial saloon, all the noises a comfort now, safety in other people. Beyond the cottonwood there was a stand of live oaks, where posses tied up horses for the night, and then the raised wooden sidewalk in front of the general store and the sheriff’s office, lined with hitching rails. Had the real towns been any more substantial? Thrown together in a few weeks, the same dusty clapboard fronts and fading paint. He was standing now in the street where gunfighters faced off, hands hovering near their holsters. He looked down to the corner, half-expecting someone to appear. But it was too soon. There’d be some better plan. From the top of the building, someone with a rifle could take him with a single bullet. One shot, then glide away in the confusion as the carpenters raced out to the street. But it wouldn’t happen that way, either. A hired pachuco at the Cherokee wasn’t enough anymore. How much did Ben know, what had he already told Polly, how far had the stain spread? What Henderson didn’t seem to understand, one reason Ben had set it up this way-first they’d have to talk to him.
He was still at his desk, waiting for the phone to ring, as the production units closed down for the day. He could hear people outside heading for their cars, the line of idling motors at the gate, the lot thinning out. He tried to imagine the call, wondered where the meeting would be set. Why not Paseo Miramar, a sentimental choice. But too public at this hour. When the door opened, no knock, he jerked his head up, every part of him alert.
“I was wondering how long it would take you,” he said.
Liesl hesitated, still holding the doorknob. “I didn’t think I was going to come at all.” She walked in and put the newspaper on his desk, a presentation gesture, Exhibit A.
“You got all dressed up.”
She glanced down at the bare-shouldered evening gown. “Publicity,” she said, offhand, distracted.
“For War Bride? In that? More like Dick Marshall’s bride. How’s that going? Or isn’t it?”
She stared at him, thrown, not expecting this.
“I told you. It didn’t mean anything,” she said finally.
“Well, neither did I.”
She looked surprised again, slightly lost. “Is that what you think?”
He met her eyes, not moving. “Go on, say it.”
“What?”
“What you were going to say. When you didn’t think you’d come.”
“Bastard. I was going to say what a bastard you are,” she said, emotionless, repeating lines. “To do this to him.”
“He’s dead.”
“And this is the memory you want for him? An informer? So everyone knows,” she said, pointing to the paper, her voice stronger. “And now you’re the good one. It means so much? To be better than him?”
“It’s true. He was an informer.”
“That’s not everything he was.”
“No. Worse.”
She stopped, dropping her hand to her side. “What do you mean, worse?”
“Treason? What every Russian wants to know. What did Henderson call it? Our new order of battle.”
“The list,” she said, ignoring his tone. “You found out who they are?”
He nodded. “It took a few calls. Of course some of them don’t have phones. They’re nowhere. New Mexico, I guess. Like in the newsreel. That’s when it clicked. I remembered Friedman. The Livermore lab. Berkeley. Bingo. In Danny’s newsreel. At home. Maybe you watched it together.”
“What are you talking about? What treason? You’re going to put this in the paper? Make it worse?”
“That depends on how you read it. The Communists will think he’s quite a guy. You do. Except for his love life. But maybe that was just a get-even screw. He didn’t take her there, you know. The Cherokee love nest. That was your idea. That’s not what it was for. Party business.”
“Party business.”
“You remember the Party.”
“Remember what?” she said, confused.
“You were in it, too.”
She said nothing.
“You came here to talk, didn’t you? Let’s talk. Don’t worry, I’m not running to Minot with it. And Bunny will keep you miles away. Not even a hint of red. No idea what Danny was up to. Somebody else he duped,” he said, looking at the paper. “But not over there. You’d have been a lot closer. Somebody he could trust. Doing what he was doing. You’d have to be one of them. I should have got that right away. Anyone from the outside would have been too risky. A death warrant. You’d have to be. Is that how you met?”
She looked down, shaking her head. “It was for him. A card even,” she said, her mouth suddenly crooked, almost in a smile. “He couldn’t. Too incriminating. They weren’t so worried for me.” She looked up at him. “I threw it away. A little ceremony. A new place, new start. For both of us. I thought it was anyway. He lied about that, too.”
“And not you? ‘Everybody was a little like that.’ Isn’t that what you said? The first night we went to bed, come to think of it. The first lie. One of them.”
“You think there were so many. It was-in the past. Why bring it up again?”
“And I bought it. And went around in circles for a while. I didn’t see a lot of things.”
She stared at him.
“Something gets in your eye, a little speck, and you miss things. I kept seeing you at Genia’s table, it kept coming back to you, and I’d look somewhere else. And then there we were drinking brandybrandy-and I saw the glass and started seeing other things. The Paseo. Just visiting Uncle Lion if anyone had asked. The balcony. I remembered that in a clip. Girl your size. You just need leverage. The hospital. He said, don’t leave me, but I did. I saw you there, too.”
“Stop it,” she said, her voice edgy, upset.
“Even then I thought I was just-seeing things. What could I prove? If I wanted to. It wasn’t going to bring him back anyway. But not after the list. Not after I saw that. You should never have let me leave the house. I suppose you didn’t think I’d move to the Cherokee. Right to the mail drop. That must have been-” He stopped. “You should have kept me close.” He looked at her. “It would have been easy to do.”
She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away, picking at the newspaper, something to do. “So now it’s this. I’m a-what? A murderer? That’s what you think?” She held her arms out. “Do you want to look? Maybe there’s a gun in my dress.”
“No, you just came to find out how much I told Polly. How far it’s gone. And I’d tell you, wouldn’t I?” He nodded. “The dress helps.”
“Stop.”
“Give me a name.”
“A name?”
“I don’t think you hired the kid at the Cherokee. A pachuco? That had to be someone else. Give me the next guy, who had the key. I can tell Henderson I got to him through Kelly, keep you out of it. They have him, they can roll up the rest. You retire. Unless they turn on you, but I’m betting they won’t. But you retire. For good.”
“Why would you do this? If I’m-”
“It’s enough damage,” he said, indicating the paper. “Right now Danny’s a Communist who made a fool out of Minot. Some places that even makes him a hero. But this is something else. I’m not going to do it to him. Make him carry that mark around. So let it stop here. Let the Bureau have the others. And there’s your career to consider.”
She raised her head, about to speak, but he cut her off.
“No one else knew I had it. And didn’t know what it meant. You saw that with Henderson at the border. Why didn’t anyone come after me? Even Henderson was surprised. One try at the Cherokee and thennothing. But by that time you knew it could stop there-Henderson didn’t know where to go with it. You were safe. No one else knew, Liesl.”
Her eyes opened wider at this, unsettled. “No one else,” she repeated, a little breathless, catching up with it.
“Give me a name.”
