Topaz - Leon Uris [11]
André gave passing notice to the nudes that adorned the walls, as Michael ordered steam beer and crab cakes.
“How’s Liz?”
“Nagging. She’s commenced with the opening shots of a campaign for a new car we can’t afford. Just a little hint, now and then. Subtle, that girl. Nicole?”
“We speak less these days but much louder. Nicole wants me to quit the service on the pretext we should grow old gracefully and enjoy each other. Does she ask too much, Mike?”
“Is that really what she’s asking for?”
“No, not really. Nicole always looks upon the past as a treasured memory, forgetting how she hated it when she lived it. Like our trips to the Caribbean. She remembers the exotic sunsets and the lovemaking, but she’s conveniently forgotten the poverty, the mosquitoes, the hurricanes. But what the hell, Mike. Maybe she’s right about this. What do I have to show for twenty years in this profession?”
“Internal hemorrhages,” Michael answered, washing down a couple of pills to coat his ulcer. “It would be hell for us if you left Washington, André. With one of President La Croix’s men in your office, relations could break down entirely. You know what I mean.
“May I suggest my ass is getting burned from the griddle you set me on.”
The Senate bell rang three times to indicate a vote would take place in the upper chamber in fifteen minutes. The dozen Senators present signed their checks quickly and, outside, the car-parkers had their motors running and doors open to prevent any delay in the return to the Capitol.
The crab cakes arrived. Michael grimaced as André smothered his in a French sauce.
“Nicole is going up to New York to see Michele and do some shopping for the embassy affair next week. I had promised to go up with her before you called. What’s so important?”
“Does the name Boris Kuznetov mean anything to you?”
“No. Who is he?”
“He claims he’s a division chief in KGB.”
“Claims?”
“Defector. We’ve had him since last fall. He’s at Camp Patrick. He asked to see you by name.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting.”
“I’m going to ask a favor of you, André. I know this is a little out of line, but don’t cable Paris about this man. At least until after you’ve spoken to him.”
André pondered for a short moment. “Fair enough,” he said.
8
HENRIETTA TODD, WIFE OF the Senator from Kansas, sat before her committee with her Ben Franklin-style half-glasses attached to a silver chain that encircled her heavy neck and multitude of chins.
The Chairwoman of the Annual Garden Party and Concert for Korean Orphans checked studiously down a roster listing possible candidates to sponsor the forthcoming event.
“Nicole darling,” she said, “do you really think we should retain Mollie Spearman as a sponsor this year?”
“Of course we should,” Nicole answered coldly. “The affair wouldn’t be complete without Mollie’s name.”
“It’s just about impossible to have a function in Washington these days without Mollie Spearman. Perhaps we should be original.”
“Or obvious by the omission,” Nicole countered.
Henrietta Todd feigned a sigh of disappointment and put an okay after Mollie Spearman’s name. “Very well,” she said.
The inference was again clear. This was the third subtle mention of Mollie Spearman’s name during the afternoon. The good ladies, led by Henrietta Todd, prodded their velvet barbs to convey the latest gossip that André was having an affair with the famous Washington hostess.
Liz Nordstrom watched the scene from the opposite end of the table, wincing inwardly as the bitches clawed. She waited until the moment the meeting had dissolved into tea and gossip and went to Nicole. On closer look Liz saw that Nicole was shaken despite her outward composure.
“I hate to pull you out of here, Nicole,” Liz said, “but I have to stand Little League duty. Shall I drop you off?”
Nicole nodded weakly that she’d like to leave and they both intoned good-byes.
“Good-bye, darlings,” Henrietta Todd said, smirking over her Ben Franklins.
Liz backed the car out