The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [160]
“Yes. It is improper but I would go that far with you. It would not stand up. But it would not have to stand up. Once she’s in there long enough for them to look at her—”
“Your colleagues are not universally competent. I’m only repeating what you’ve said to me. And simply committing her leaves too many loose ends. We have been over them, David. You are stalling.”
Loewenstein picked up his pipe, took it apart, put it back together again.
Warren said, “It’s a lovely briar, David.”
“Mmmm. Hell.” He put the-pipe down and glared at it, then heaved a sigh. “Go over it again,” he said. “Not the situation. Just what you expect of me.” And after Warren had finished he said, “Not my car.”
“You could report it as stolen.”
“In the first place, no. In the second place, the whole idea is excessively dramatic, it risks more than it seeks to safeguard, it’s an antiballistic missile system built to protect a dog kennel. In the—”
“You have a talent for metaphor.”
“And you for obfuscation. In the third place, no again.”
“Then the license plates.”
“I do not want to be connected with this, Warren, and you seem to fail to understand that. No one will check your license plates.”
“Swear to it?”
“Damn you. How am I to drive around without plates? And I intend to drive my whole family to Philadelphia and spend the entire day in the company of friends.”
“I was going to suggest that.”
“Well?”
“I’ll switch plates with you.”
“And if I’m stopped? And if the plates do not match with the registration?”
“You left your registration at home.”
“I want my plates back on my car by Monday morning.”
“Certainly. And drive carefully, David.”
“Go to hell.”
“David? Don’t you have a second car? Couldn’t you use one car while I use the plates of—” He let the sentence trail off, entranced at the furious scowl that etched itself into his friend’s features. Then, before the scowl had a chance to fade, the psychiatrist erupted in laughter fiercer than the scowl. He roared.
“Schemes,” he said finally. “Plans, mechanisms, fucking clevernesses. The wise men of Chelm who could tell the horses apart because the black one was an inch and a half taller than the white one.”
“Drive carefully just the same,” Warren said.
“Peter? There’s one thing that bothers me.”
“What’s that, love?”
“Warren Ormont.”
“He was the one who explained the plot to me, Gretchen. We can trust him.”
“He might have had a reason. They’re unbelievably devious, you know.”
“I know, but not Warren.”
“I’ve known him longer than you, Peter. I’ve had my bitter experiences with Warren Ormont.”
He worked on it for a minute, then said, “I know about all that, Gretch.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“He told you?”
“Last night he had to. I’m almost afraid to tell you the rest of it.”
“I want to know, Petey.”
“All right. When Warren stopped seeing you, it wasn’t because he wanted to.” Her eyes were wide, her mouth half-open. “He was being used.”
“You don’t mean—”
“I’m afraid so. They turned him against you, Gretch.”
“But that was years ago. That was so long ago. You mean it’s been going on that long? It was going on for years before I had any idea. They must have known about Robin ages before she was born. My God, how can you fight them when they have resources like that?”
“But we’re learning more and more about them, Gretch.”
“Yes!” Her forefinger stabbed the air. “Yes! That’s right! We’re growing stronger and they’re beginning to weaken.” Her expression softened. “But poor Warren. He must have just found out. I’ve been hateful to him for years. It’s all so awful.”
“You drew strength from that hatred through the years.”
“That’s very true.”
“And now he’s on our side.”
“Oh, thank God for Warren,” she said.
At twenty minutes after eleven Sully Jaeger got up from the table and yawned. He said, “I feel like the end of the day and it’s just the beginning.”
“If you weren’t a sex maniac you wouldn’t be tired in the mornings.”
“Yeah, and if you weren’t a sex maniac, I wouldn’t be a sex maniac. And if it’s a choice between that and being wide awake in the mornings