Shibumi

She shook her head. 'Only you will ever know, Nikko. Is Hannah safely set up at the lodge?'

'Yes. I think the girls have heated the water by now. Do you feel like taking a bath with me?'

'Certainly.'

They sat opposite one another, their feet in their habitual caress, their eyes closed and their bodies weightless.

'I hope you were kind to her,' Hana murmured sleepily.

'I was.'

'And you? How was it for you?'

'For me?' He opened his eyes. 'Madame, do you have anything pressing on your schedule just now?'

'I'll have to consult my carnet de bal, but it is possible that I can accommodate you.'

* * *

Shortly after noon, when he had reason to hope the local PTT would be functioning at least marginally, Hel placed a transatlantic call to the number Diamond had left with him. He had decided to tell the Mother Company that Hannah Stern had decided to return home, leaving the Septembrists unmolested. He assumed Diamond would take personal satisfaction in the thought that he had frightened Nicholai Hel off, but just as praise from such a source would not have pleased him, so scorn could not embarrass him.

It would be more than an hour before the viscous and senile French telephone system could place his call, and he chose to pass the interval inspecting the grounds. He felt lighthearted, well-disposed toward everything, enjoying that generalized euphoria that follows a close call with danger. For a whole constellation of impalpable reasons, he had dreaded getting involved in a business that was trammeled with personalities and passions.

He was wandering through the privet maze on the east lawns when he came across Pierre, who was in his usual vinous fog of contentment. The gardener looked up into the sky and pontificated. 'Ah, M'sieur. Soon there will be a storm. The signs all insist on it.'

'Oh?'

'Oh yes, there is no doubt. The little clouds of the morning have been herded against the flank of ahune-mendi. The first of the ursoa flew up the valley this afternoon. The sagarra turned its leaves over in the wind. These are sure signs. A storm is inevitable.'

'That's too bad. We could have used a little rain.'

'True, M'sieur. But look! Here comes M'sieur Le Cagot. How finely he dresses!'

Le Cagot was approaching across the lawn, still wearing the rumpled theatrical evening dress of two nights ago. As he neared, Pierre tottered away, explaining that there were many thousands of things that demanded his immediate attention.

Hel greeted Le Cagot. 'I haven't seen you in a while, Benat. Where have you been?'

'Bof. I've been up in Larrau with the widow, helping her put out the fire in her belly.' Le Cagot was uneasy, his badinage mechanical and flat.

'One day, Benat, that widow will have you in the trap, and you'll be... What is it? What's wrong?'

Le Cagot put his hands on Hel's shoulders. 'I have hard news for you, friend. A terrible thing has happened. That girl with the plump breasts? Your guest?...'

Hel closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. After a silence he said quietly, 'Dead?'

'I'm afraid so. A contrabandier heard the shots. By the time he got to your lodge, she was dead. They had shot her... many, many times.'

Hel took a long, slow breath and held it for a moment; then he let it out completely, as he absorbed the first shock and avoided the flash of mind-fogging fury. Keeping his mind empty, he walked back toward the chateau, while Le Cagot followed, respecting his friend's armor of silence.

Hel had sat for ten minutes at the threshold of the tatami'd room, staring out over the garden, while Le Cagot slumped beside him. He refocused his eyes and said in a monotone, 'All right. How did they get into the lodge?'

'They didn't have to. She was found in the meadow below the ravine. Evidently she was picking wildflowers. There was a large bunch found in her hand.'

'Silly twit,' Hel said in a tone that might have been affectionate. 'Do we know who shot her?'

'Yes. Early this morning, down in the village of Lescun, two outlanders were seen. Their descriptions are those of the Amerlo from Texas I met here and that little Arab snot.'

'But how did they know where she was? Only our people knew that.'

'There is only one way. Someone must have informed.'

'One of our people?'

'I know. I know!' Le Cagot spoke between his teeth. 'I have asked around. Sooner or later, I shall find out who it was. And when I do, by the Prophetic Balls of Joseph in Egypt, I swear that the blade of my makila will puncture his black heart!' Le Cagot was ashamed and furious that one of his own, a mountain Basque, had disgraced the race in this way. 'What do you say, Niko? Shall we go get them, the Amerlo and the Arab?'

Hel shook his head. 'By now they are on a plane bound for the United States. Their time will come.'

Le Cagot smashed his fists together, breaking the skin over a knuckle. 'But why, Niko! Why kill such a morsel? What harm could she do, the poor muffin?'

'They wanted to prevent me from doing something. They thought they could erase my debt to the uncle by killing the niece.'

'They are mistaken, of course.'

'Of course.' Hel sat up straight as his mind began to function in a different timbre. 'Will you help me, Benat?'

'Will I help you? Does asparagus make your piss stink?'

'They have French Internal Security forces all over this part of the country with orders to put me away if I attempt to leave the area.'

'Bof! The only charm of the Security Force is its epic incompetence.'

'Still, they will be a nuisance. And they might get lucky. We'll have to neutralize them. Do you remember Maurice de Lhandes?'

'The man they call the Gnome? Yes, of course.'

'I have to get in touch with him, I'll need his help to get safely into Britain. We'll go through the mountains tonight, into Spain to San Sebastian. I need a fishing boat to take me along the coast to St. Jean de Luz. Would you arrange that?'

'Would a cow lick Lot's wife?'

'Day after tomorrow, I'll be flying out from Biarritz to London. They'll be watching the airports. But they're spread thin, and that's to our advantage. Starting about noon that day, I want reports leaked to the authorities that I have appeared in Oloron, Pau, Bayonne, Bilbao, Mauleon, St. Jean Pied de Port, Bordeaux, Ste. Engrace, and Dax —all at the same time. I want their crosscommunications confused, so that the report from Biarritz will be just one drop in a torrent of information. Can that be arranged?'

'Can it be arranged? Do... I can't think of an old saying for it just now. Yes, it can be arranged. This is like the old days, eh?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'You're taking me with you, of course.'

'No. It's not your kind of thing.'

'Hola! Don't let the gray in my beard fool you. A boy lives inside this body! A very mean boy!'

'It's not that. If this were breaking into a prison or blowing away a guardpost, there is no one I'd rather have with me. But this won't be a matter of courage. It must be done by craft.'

As was his custom when in the open air, Le Cagot had turned aside and unbuttoned his trousers to relieve himself as he talked. 'You don't think I am capable of craft? I am subtlety itself! Like the chameleon, I blend with all backgrounds!'

Hel could not help smiling. This self-created folk myth standing before him, resplendent in rumpled fin-de-siecle evening clothes, the rhinestone buttons of his brocade waistcoat sparkling in