Topaz - Leon Uris [67]
“Then, that is the kind of woman you deserve.”
He slumped at the desk and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand and spoke in a mumble almost incoherent. “I made up this cable on the way here. It’s to Ambassador Adam in Havana and concerns a boat from Miami to Cuba. I’m going on it to bring Juanita out. I ... just don’t care to look over the mail tonight ... we have a long report to work up so we’ll be at the office late for the rest of the week ... just make sure the cable goes out in the morning....”
“You’ve had enough,” Brigitte said. “Now, shut it off for a while.” She unbuttoned her coat, deliberately. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“No, you go home.”
“Please....”
“No, you worry too much about me as it is.”
“I’ll take your daughter’s room,” she insisted. “I want to be nearby if you wish to talk or need something. There are times when a man should not be left alone.”
3
THE DOOR BUZZER SOUNDED in the Devereaux apartment on Rue de Rennes. Nicole let in François Picard, led him to the living room, and poured him a Pernod and herself a bourbon, a carry-over of her Americanization.
“Michele will be ready shortly.”
François was piqued. “Why the devil isn’t she ever ready on time? I’ve never seen a woman who is always, always so late.”
“You’ve been spoiled, François. But for a girl like Michele, one has to pay small prices.”
He grunted, she laughed. Nicole liked this testy young man. He was in his late twenties, dressed nicely but in an unconcerned way, and sometimes in mid-conversation his mind drifted to something far away. He was as a dreamer should be.
“I read your article in this week’s Moniteur. You have a very barbed pen. I’m sure you made President La Croix quite unhappy.”
“Unfortunately, he does not read me.”
“I rather think your opinion will get back to him.”
François let out a deep sigh that reeked of frustration. “It’s not only La Croix and the people around him. The worst of it is the French people are deaf to what he is doing. A nation of fools. Eternal parade-ground soldiers. But we must go on trying, mustn’t we, Madame Devereaux?”
Nicole lowered her eyes and tucked her legs beneath her on the couch. “Yes, I know someone like that.”
François carried out the smoking of a cigarette with the same intensity that he did everything else. François Picard was a rebel in a futile cause ... quite like someone she knew. But there was a light side to him and Michele was able to bring it out.
“Are you and Michele serious?” Nicole asked abruptly.
“Would you mind if we were?”
“I never object to anything Michele does, but I will give my opinion.”
“Please.”
“She’s lived her life a certain way. Michele is very sheltered and conscious of ... well, the emphasis has been on the social side of life.”
“I understand what you’re saying.”
“Don’t be offended, François, but this sudden new change of climate may not work out as easily as you think.”
“I’m not offended, Madame. I’m without station in life or what you call station. Moreover, I suspect that my anti-La Croix attitudes will eventually get me fired from Télévision Nationale. Then I’ll really be a struggling journalist. One does not live well on a column a week in Moniteur.”
“Enter Bohemia?”
“As long as Michele sticks, I’ll try.”
“But you’ve only known each other such a short while.”
“She does something that no else can make me do. She makes me laugh. When I come into the room, she looks at me in a certain way and always smiles and gives me the feeling she is happy because I am alive. I’ve had my share of girls. Michele is very young, but she is more of a woman than I’ve ever known. She dresses like a woman, looks like a woman, smells like a woman. She is a total woman, like her mother.”
Michele made her entrance with a weekend bag. They would drive to the coast to a place he knew near Dieppe. More than likely the Channel weather would be too foul for bathing or sunning, but there would be long soulful walks on the beach and a pleasant cottage and fireplace. They would listen to music and talk. They seemed to be able to talk endlessly.