The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [41]
“Do yon care to play?” he asked Mosca and tried to suppress the apologetic smile.
Gordon waved Mosca toward the table and said, “See what yon can do, Walter; he's too good for me.”
Mosca sat in the chair opposite the professor. “Don't expect too much; Gordon taught me this game just a month ago.”
The professor nodded his head and murmured, “Please take the white pieces.” Mosca made the opening move.
The professor became absorbed in the game and lost his nervousness. They all used the simple opening, these Americans, but where the little schoolteacher had played a cautious game, sound but uninspired, this one played with all the impetuosity of youth. Not without talent, the professor thought, as with a few expert moves he broke the force of the headlong attack. Then swiftly and ruthlessly he swooped on the unprotected rooks and bishop and slaughtered the pawns standing forward without support.
“You're too good for me, professor,” the boy said, and the professor noted with relief that there was no rancor in the voice.
Then without any transition Mosca said abruptly in German, “I'd like you to give English lessons to my fiancee twice a week. What does it cost?”
The professor flushed. It was humiliating, this common bargaining, as if he were a shopkeeper. “Whatever you wish,” he said stiffly, “but you speak quite a good German, why not teach her yourself?”
“I have,” Mosca said, “but she wants to learn the structure, grammar and all that. A pack of cigarettes for every two lessons okay?”
The professor nodded.
Mosca borrowed a pencil from Gordon and wrote on a slip of paper. He gave it to the professor and said, “Here's a note in case anyone in the billet questions you. The address is there, too.”
“Thank you.” The professor almost bowed. “Will tomorrow evening be suitable?”
“Sure,” Mosca said.
Outside the house a jeep horn began a steady honking. “That must be Leo,” Mosca said. “We're going over to the Officers” Club. Feel like coming, Gordon?”
“No,” Gordon said. “Is that the boy that was in Buchen-wald?” And when Mosca nodded, “Have him come in for just a second; Fd like to meet him.”
Mosca went to the window and pushed it open and the horn stopped. “Come on in,” Mosca shouted. It was very dark now, the children and their lanterns out of sight
When Leo came in he shook hands with Gordon and said to the professor stiffly, “Angenehm” The professor bowed, picked up his briefcase and said to Gordon, “I must go.” Gordon took him to the outer door, and they shook hands in farewell. Then Gordon went to the kitchen in the rear of the house.
IBs wife was sitting at the table with Yergen, haggling over the price of some black-market goods. Yergen was polite, dignified, and firm; they both knew she was getting a good bargain. Yergen believed in quality. On a chair beside the table was a foot-high stack of rich-looking, rusty-colored woolen material.
“Isn't this lovely stuff, Gordon?” Ann Middleton asked in a pleased voice. She was a plump woman, her features good-natured and kind despite the determined chin and shrewd eyes.
Gordon in his slow, deliberate way made a sound of assent and then said, “If you're through here I'd like you to come and meet some friends.” Yergen hurriedly gulped the cup of coffee before him and began to fill his leather briefcase with the round tins of fats and meats that rested on the table. “I must go,” he said.
“You won't forget the material for my husband's coat next week?” Ann Middleton asked warningly.
Yergen made a gesture of protest “Dear lady, no. Next week at the latest.”
When she had locked the back entrance after Yergen, Ann Middleton unlocked a cupboard and took out a bottle of whisky and some bottles of Coca-Cola. “It is a pleasure to do business with Yergen;