"He may not be aware of it. It could be hes being used by people who work for him." "Even more unlikely. Beneath his charming personality, there's the mind of a Borgia. Take my word for it." "How do you know thatT' "I know him," said Crispi, smiling. "He and I are not so different." Bray leaned forward. "I want to meet him. Not as Scofield, of course. As someone else. Can you arrange it?" "Perhaps. If he's in Italy, and I think he is. I read somewhere that his wife is a patron of the Festa Villa d'Este, being held tomorrow night. It is a charity affair for the gardens. He would not miss it; as they say, everyone in Rome will be there." "Your Rome, I trust," said Scofield. "Not mine."
He watched her across the hotel room as she lifted the skirt out of the box and folded it on her lap as though checking for imperfections. He understood that the pleasure he derived from buying her things was out of place. Clothes were a necessity; it was as simple as that, but his knowing it did not erase the warmth that spread through him watching her.
The prisoner was free, the decisions restored, and although she had commented about the exorbitant prices at the Excelsior, she had not refused to let him buy clothes for her at the shops. It had been a game. She would look over at Bray; if he nodded, she would frown, feigning tiisapproval-invariably glancing at the price tag-then slowly re-evaluate, ultimately acknowledging his taste.
His wife used to do that in West Berlin. In West Berlin it had been one of their games. His Karine was always worried about money. They were going to have children one day, money was important, and the government was not a generous corporation. No Grade Twelve foreign service officer was about to open a Swiss bank account.
Of course, by then Scofield had. In Bern. And in Paris and London and, naturally, Berlin. He had not told her; his true professional life had never touched her. Until it touched her with finality. Had things been different, he might have given her one of those accounts. After he had transferred out of Consular Operations into a civilized branch of the State Department.
Godamn it! He was going tol It had only been a matter of weekst "You are so far away." "What?" Bray brought the glass to his lips; it was a reflex gesture for he had finished the drink. It occurred to him that he was drinking too much.
"You're looking at me, but I don't think you see me." "I certainly do. I miss the hat. I liked the white hat." She smiled. "You don't wear a hat inside. The waiter who brought us dinner would have thought me silly." "You wore it at Crispi's place. TItat waiter didn't." "A restaurant is different." "Both inside." He got up and poured himself a drink.
Chapter Seventeen
"Thank you again for these." Antonia glanced at the boxes and shopping bags beside the chair. "It is like Christmas Eve, I don't know which to open next." She laughed. "But there was never a Christmas in Corsica like this!
Papa would scowl for a month at the sight of such things. Yes, I do thank you." "No need to." Scofield remained by the table, adding more whisky to his glass. "They're equipment. Like an office typewriter or an adding machine or file cabinets. They go with the job." "I see." She replaced the skirt and the blouse into the box. "But you don't," she said.
"I beg your pardon?" "Niente. Does the whisky help you relaxT' "You could say that. Would you like one?" "No, thank you. I'm more relaxed than I have been in a long time. It would be wasted." "To each according to his needs. Or wants," said Scofield lowering himself into a chair. "You can go to bed, if you like. Tomorrow's going to be a long day." "Does my company bother youT' "No, of course not." "But you prefer to be alone." "I hadn't thought about it." She used to say that. In West Berlin, when there were problems and I would sit by myself trying to think as others might think. She would be talking and I would not hear her. She used to get angry-not angry, hurt-and say "You'd rather be alone, wouldn't you?" And I would, but I could not explain. Perhaps if I had explained.... Perhaps an explanation would