The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [47]
ten
Mosca and Gordon Middleton stopped working to eavesdrop; through the slightly ajar door of Eddie's office they could hear a young girls voice. “Eddie, I wanted to see you for just a minute; it is very important” Her voice was a little shaky.
Eddie's voice, cold and formally polite, said, “Sure, go ahead.”
The girl said hesitatingly, “I know you told me I was not to come to your office, but you never visit me any more.”
Gordon and Mosca grinned at each other. Gordon shook his head. They listened.
The girl said, “I need a carton of cigarettes.”
There was a silence. Then Eddie asked with cold sarcasm, “What brand?” But the girl did not catch the inflection, the implied rejection.
“Oh, you know that doesn't matter,” she said. “I need them for the doctor. That is his price.”
Eddie's voice was polite, impersonal. “Are you ill?”
The girl laughed coyly. “Oh, Eddie, you know very well. I am going to have a baby. For a carton of cigarettes my doctor will help me lose it.” Then reassuringly, as if anxiety for her welfare might make him refuse, “There is no danger.”
Mosca and Gordon nodded at each other, laughing noiselessly, not at the girl but at Eddie, at what they imagined to be his embarrassment and the fact that this liaison would cost him a carton of cigarettes. Eddie's next words wiped their smiles away.
The voice was still cold, polite, but there was a horrible note of joyous hatred in it. “Tell your German boy friend to help. You won't get any cigarettes from me. And if you come to this office again you will not be working on this air base. Now get back to your job.”
The girl was crying. Finally she protested in a weak voice, “I have no boy friend. It is your child. It is three months, Eddie.”
“That's all,” Eddie Cassin said.
The girl had regained her courage and drawn some anger from his contempt. “You didn't come to me for a whole month. I didn't know if you would come again. That man just took me to some dances. I swear it. You know you were the one. What is a carton of cigarettes to you?”
Gordon and Mosca could hear Eddie pick up the phone and ask the operator for the base provost marshal. Then the girl's voice with a note of terror in it said, “Help me, Mr. Cassin, please help me.” They then could hear the hall door open and slam shut and Eddie saying, “Never mind,” to the operator.
Eddie Cassin pushed through the door to their room and his delicate pale-gray face wore a pleased smile. “Did you enjoy our little scene?” he asked.
Mosca leaned back in-his chair and said contemptuously, “You're a real prick, Eddie.”
Gordon Middleton said, “I'll give you the cigarettes for her, Eddie.” He said it with none of the contempt Mosca had shown, simply as a statement of fact, as if the only reason Eddie had refused was because of the value he would lose.
Eddie looked them both over with a derisive smile. “Gee, what nice guys. Willing to help a poor kid like that. listen. That little tramp had a guy on the side all the time. He smoked the cigarettes I gave her, ate the chocolate bars and food I meant for her.” He laughed with real good humor. “Besides, I've been through this before. And I know that the black-market fee for abortions is only half a carton.”
The door of the office opened and Wolf came in. He said, “Hi ya, fellas.” He put his briefcase on the desk and sat down with a weary sigh. “What a bunch of cheerful bums.” He grinned at them, his pasty-white face lit with genuine happiness. “Caught two krauts stealing coffee. You know that soup the mess officer lets them take home in their little pots? Well, they put the ground coffee on the bottom, sand over that, then the soup over. Don't ask me how they get the sand out later.”
For some reason this soured Eddie. He said gloomily, “Wolf Tracy always gets his man. Tell us how you do it, Wolf.”
Wolf grinned. “Hell, who would ever figure it out? Same as usual. Stool pigeon.”
Middleton rose. “Guess FU go home early. Okay, Eddie?”
“Sure,” Eddie said.
Wolf raised his hand. “Wait a minute,