The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [49]
The windows were heavily shuttered but the sound of jeep motors starting and dying to a halt could be heard in that room. When someone disappeared with the giant, they never returned. At the other end of the house was a door that served as exit.
Their turn came, and the giant took them into the next room. He indicated they were to wait. The room was empty save for two wooden chairs and a small table on which was an ash tray. When they were alone Mosca said, “That's a big guy.”
“Her protection,” Wolf said, “but if she has the scrip that won't mean nothing. That giant is nearly a moron. She keeps him here to scare people, like drunken GIs and krauts. But for the real McCoy he can't do much.” He smiled at Mosca.
After a short wait the giant came in again. He said, in German, in a huskily soft voice that did not fit his body, “Would yon care to see something I personally wish to sell?” He took out a band of gold in which was fastened a large diamond. He gave it to Mosca. “Only ten cartons.”
Mosca handed it over to Wolf and said, “That looks like a good buy. A carat at least.”
Wolf turned it over and smiled. ‘It's not worth anything,” he said. “See, it's fiat backed. I told you this guy was a moron.” He threw the ring to the giant who snatched at it clumsily but missed and had to stoop down from his great height to pick it up from the floor. Then determinedly he gave the ring to Mosca again. “Ten cartons, a bargain, but do not tell the old Frau.” He put a huge finger, childlike, on his lips.
Mosca tried to give the ring back to him but the giant refused to take it. “Ten cartons, keep it for ten cartons,” he said over and over again. Mosca put the ring on the table. Slowly, sadly, the giant picked it up.
Then he motioned them to follow and opened the door to the next room. He stood by the door to let them pass, first Mosca, then Wolf. But as Wolf went by he gave a malicious push that sent the American hurtling to the center of the room. Then the giant closed the door and stood by it.
A small, stout, gray-haired woman sat in a wide wicker chair, beside her a desk on which stood an open ledger. There were stacks of PX goods against one wall, hundreds of cartons of cigarettes, yellow boxes of chocolate bars, bars of toilet soap, and other toilet goods with bright wrappers. A small German man was arranging the goods neatly into piles. The pockets of his black, ill-fitting jacket bulged with German currency, and when he turned to watch them a bundle of it feU to the floor.
The woman spoke first and she spoke in English. “I am very sony,” she said. “Once in a great while Johann takes a dislike to someone and does such a thing. There is nothing to be done.”
Wolf had been taken by surprise and stood in momentary bewilderment But now his heavy dead-white face turned crimson. The woman's insolent tone angered him even more. He saw Mosca smiling at him and that Mosca had stepped to a wall where he could command everyone in the room if he showed a weapon. Wolf shook his head, then turned to the old woman and saw the glint of amusement in her shrewd eyes.
“It is a small thing,” Wolf said calmly. “You know what I have come for. Can you help us?”
The woman looked him up and down and still speaking English said, “My dear man, your story has a stink to it. I don't know of this million dollars in scrip. If I did I would be very careful in my dealings with you and your friend. Really, you insult my intelligence.”
Wolf kept his smile. Business before pleasure, he thought. He said, “If you make a contact and deliver that contact to me it may well mean a small fortune for you. For such a little thing.”
There was contempt in the woman's voice and disdain in her puffy, fat cheeks. “I am a woman of business and will have no part in such affairs. And make certain I will warn my friends against you.” She gave a snort of laughter. “You have five thousand cartons.”
Wolf was still smiling. He asked, “Can either of these two men understand English? It is important.”
The woman, surprised by the unexpected question,