and bewildered. I hardly knew him but when he died, I couldn't stand it. Guns and knives and clubs were not the way; that night I left and returned to Bologna.
"So what you saw in Porto Vecchio was an act. It was dark, and you did not see the fear in my eyes." He had been right. She was not for the barricades; there would be no merry month of May for her.
"You know," he said slowly, "we're going to be together for a while." There was no fear in her eyes now. "We have not settled that question, have we?" "What question?" "Where I'm going. You and the Russian said I was to trust you, do as you were doing, leave Corsica and say nothing. Well, signore, we've left Corsica and I've trusted you. I didn't run away." "Why didn't you?" Antonia paused briefly. "Fear, and you know it. You're not normal men. You speak courteously, but move too quickly for courteous men. The two don't go together. I think underneath you are what the crazy people in the Brigate Rosse would like to be. You frighten me." "That stopped you?" "The Russian wanted to kill me. He watched me closely; he would have shot me the instant he thought I was running." "Actually, he didn't want to kill you and he wouldn't have. He was just sending a message." "I don't understand." "You don't have to, you were perfectly safe." "Am I safe now? Will you take my word that I will say nothing and let me go?" "Where to?" "Bologna. I can always get work there." "Doing whatT' "Nothing very impressive. I'm hired as a researcher at the university. I look up boring statistics for the protessori who write their boring books and articles." "A researcher?" Bray smiled to himself. "You must be very accurate." "What is it to be accurate? Facts are facts. Will you let me go back to Bologna?" "Your work isn't steady then?" "It is work I like," replied Antonia. "I work when I wish to, leaving me time for other things." "You're actually a self-employed free-lancer with your own business," said Scofield, enjoying himself. "ThaVs the essence of capitalism, isn't it?" "And you're maddeningl You ask questions but you don't answer minel" "Sorry. Occupational characteristic. What was your question?" "Will you let me go? Will you accept my word; will you trust me? Or must I wait for that moment when you cannot be watching and run?" "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," replied Bray courteously. "Look, you're an honest person. I don't meet many. A minute ago you said you didn't ran away before because you were afraid to, not because you trusted us. That's being honest. You brought us up to Bastia. Be honest with me now. Knowing what you know-seeing what you saw in Porto Vecchio-how good is your word?" At midships, the lifeboat was being hoisted over the railing by four crewmen; Antonia watched it as she spoke. "You're being unfair. You know what I saw, and you know what you told me. When I think about it, I want to cry out and...." She did not finish; instead she turned back to him, her voice weary. "How good is my word? I don't know. So what's left for me?
Will it be you and not the Russian who fires the bullet?" "I may offer you a job." "I don't want work from you." "We'll see," said Bray.
"Venite subito, signori. La lancia va partire." The lifeboat was in the water. Scofield reached for the duffle bag at his side and got to his feet. He held out his hand for Antonia. "Come on. I've had easier people to deal with." The statement was true. He could kill this woman if he had to. Still, he would try not to have to.
Where was the new life for Beowulf Agate now?
God, he hated this one.
Bray hired a taxi in Fiumicino, the driver at first reluctant to accept a fare to Rome, changing his mind in- stantly at the sight of the money in Scofield's hand. They stopped for a quick meal and still reached the inner city before eight o'clock. The streets were crowded, the shops doing a brisk evening's business.
"Pull up in that parking space," said Bray to the driver. They were in front of a clothing store. "Wait here," he added, including Antonia in the command. "I'll guess your size." He opened the door.