The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [118]
He washed thoroughly, the water cool on his hot face. Then he shaved, studying the smooth and quiet features, the long thin nose, the long thin mouth with almost color less lips, the hollow black eyes, and dark bronzed skin, gray now with fatigue and splotched with fever sores.
He rinsed the soap off his face and then kept looking it. He was surprised at how strange it seemed to him, ai if he had never really seal it. He turned his head to look at each profile and how the deep eye socket cast shadows over his jaw. He saw the cruelty and evil, the black glints in the dark eyes, the firm and brutal chin. He steppec back, his hand out to cover that mirror face, but surprised, let his hand drop before it touched glass. For a moment he smiled.
In his room it was cold. There was a strange hum in the air. He went to the window and closed it. The hum ceased. The green and yellow lights crossing the ruins were much nearer. He looked at his watch. It was nearly eight o'clock. He felt suddenly weak and feverish, nausea made him sit on the bed. The ache that had been burie< by aspirin broke into its steady beat, and with a terrible despair, as if he had lost final hope for salvation, he was sure that Yergen would not come. He felt very cold an< went to the wardrobe and put on his old green combs jacket From an empty cigarette carton he took the Hungarian pistol and slipped it into his pocket He put all hi cigarettes in a small suitcase, then the shaving kit an< the nearly full bottle of gin. Then he sat on the bed to wait
Eddie Cassin parked the jeep in front of the church. He wait around die side entrance and up the steps to the steeple. He knocked on the door; there was no answer. He waited, then knocked again. On the other side of the door, Yergen's voice came, unexpectedly clear, “Who there?”
Eddie said, “It is Mr. Cassin.” Yergen's voice said, “What do you want?” Eddie Cassin said, “Frau Meyer sent me with a message.’
The bolt slid back mid the door opened. Yergen stooi by it, waiting for him to enter. The room was dark, except for one little table lamp the comer, and beneath this lamp, pn a small sofa, Yer-gen's daughter held a book of fairy tales. She rested against great cushions piled against the wall.
“Yes, what is it?” Yergen said. He looked much older, his slight figure was thinner, but his face was still sure, still proud.
Eddie put out his hand. Yergen shook it. Eddie said with a smile, “Come, we've known each other a long time, we've had many a drink together. Is this a way to act with me?”
Yergen smiled reluctantly. “Ah, Mr. Cassin, when I worked in the Metzer Strasse I was a different man. Now—”
Eddie said slowly, sincerely, “You know me, I wouldn't trick you. I've come for your benefit. My friend, Mosca, wants his money and cigarettes back. What he paid for the defective drugs.”
Yergen was watching him intently, then said, “Of course, I will do that. But tell him not immediately. I cannot.”
Eddie said, “He wants you to come see him tonight”
“Oh, no, oh, no,” Yergen said. “I will not go to see him.”
Eddie looked at Yergen's daughter lying on the sofa. She had opened her eyes into a wide, blank stare. It made him uncomfortable.
“Yergen,” he said, “Mosca and I are leaving tomorrow for Marburg. When we come back he leaves for the States. Now if you don't come to see him tonight, he will come here. If he becomes angry, he will frighten the little girl when he quarrels with you.”
As he had known it would, this last argument took effect. Yergen shrugged, then went to get his coat. Then he went to his daughter.
Eddie watched them. Yergen with his heavy fur-collared overcoat and neatly combed brown hair, his look of quiet dignity and seriousness, knelt humbly, sadly, to whisper nto his daughter's ear. Eddie knew he was giving her the signal, so that when he returned and knocked on the door, [he little girl would slide back the iron bolt He could see the little girl's blank eyes watching him over her father's shoulder