“You bastard, why did you have to get in our way?” Angelica’s question was rhetorical.
“How much is the famous ring worth?” Felix asked her, his voice equally neutral.
Regaining control of himself, it was the private secretary who answered Felix, ingratiatingly, as if he’d discovered hitherto unseen virtues in this obscure chief from the Bureau of Cost Analysis. “I don’t know. I only know that Bernstein had arranged everything in Coatzacoalcos so that Angelica could take it to the United States.”
“And instead of delivering it to Bernstein’s accomplice, you double-crossed him and brought it to Trevor.”
“It’s true,” Trevor interjected before the Rossettis could respond, “that my friends the Rossettis, how shall I say it? diverted the course of normal events to bring the ring to me. Alas, you intercepted it. Whatever the case, Bernstein’s consignee must be biting his nails somewhere on this vast continent, awaiting our Angelica’s arrival on another ghost tanker we’ll call, shall we — not to deviate from our previous allusions — the Red Queen. You know, the one who demanded the head of the Knave of Hearts for stealing her tarts. I must ask that you take us to the missing ring, Señor Maldonado.”
“I repeat, I do not have it.”
“I’m aware of that. Where is it?”
“Traveling, slowly but surely, like Alice’s Mock Turtle.”
“Where, Maldonado?” said Trevor, his voice steely.
“Paradoxically, to the very place that Bernstein intended,” said Felix, not flickering an eyelash.
“I told you, Trevor.” Angelica’s voice was guttural, and hysterical. “He’s a convert to Judaism; it’s not for nothing I’m one of Ruth’s good friends. He was bound to align himself with the Jews. He’s Bernstein’s former student, he knows Mann, and he’s sent him the ring. He already knows Bernstein didn’t kill Sara…”
Trevor feigned resignation before Angelica’s unrestrained babble.
Rossetti attempted to soothe his wife. “Don’t say more than you mean to. Please be more discreet, darling. We have to go back to Mexico…”
“With Bernstein’s money, and Trevor’s, we have enough to live somewhere other than that land of trained fleas,” retorted the ungovernable Angelica.
“I promised you that we’d go wherever you wanted, darling.” Rossetti was kindlier by the minute, though more than half his kindness was reserved for himself.
“I’m sick and tired of watching you crawl up one bureaucratic step every six years! What will you be in twelve years? Bill collector? Milk inspector? What?”
“Angelica, we should at least spend a few months…”
“Don’t you ever get tired of living off my money … you pimp!”
“I said a few months, until everything gets back to normal. That’s only prudent, Angelica, we’ll have plenty of money…”
“But Trevor slapped me. Who’s going to repay that, you ball-less wonder,” shrieked Angelica, tearing off the black sunglasses to reveal her chlorine-streaked eyes.
“I will, if only you’ll shut up,” said Felix, and buried his right fist in Rossetti’s stomach at the same instant the private secretary took a knife from his pocket and pressed it to release the switchblade.
Rossetti’s gaze glittered with every imaginable threat, as, moaning and doubled over with pain, he fell on the sofa. Felix picked up the knife and pressed down the blade between a nail file and a corkscrew.
“Perfect.” Trevor smiled. “Neapolitan technology. Clean nails for the body beautiful, along with a sure way to open bottles in airplanes without fear of being poisoned. Right up Rossetti’s alley. What do you think, Maldonado? Was he going to slit Angelica’s throat or demand that I hand over the promised money?”
“He was going to pin back my wings like a butterfly’s,” Felix replied coldly.
“Oh, yes?” Trevor lifted arched eyebrows. “May I inquire why?”
“First, because I was witness to his wife humiliating him.”
“As well as I.”
“You’re not Latin. It’s a matter of clans.”
“And second?”
“Because I’m the only person who might betray him. All the rest — you, Bernstein, the Director, Angelica — have good reason to keep his secrets.”
“You’re sure of that? Well, it doesn’t matter. We must be grateful to our friends for this edifying conjugal scene.”
“You’re a bachelor?” Felix smiled.
“Witness my good health.” Trevor returned the smile.
“He’s a fag,” spat Angelica.
“Politics has no sex, my dear, and because you believed the contrary, you have allowed yourselves to become embroiled in futile passions. Let’s get to the point, Maldonado. If you’re lying to me, you’re wasting your time. The ring is useless to your side. First of all, to use it requires something beyond Neapolitan or Aztec technology. Examine it to your heart’s content, the ring will tell you nothing. If you shatter it, you automatically destroy the information it contains. And, finally, you already possess the information.”
“Then it won’t matter if the stone is destroyed,” said Felix, wondering why Trevor was telling him all this.
The Englishman provided the answer. “You’re not interested in knowing what we want to know about you? Don’t be so elementary, my dear Maldonado.”
“The ring will be delivered to Mann,” said Felix, clutching at the straw of Angelica’s gaffe.
“Blast and damn!” exclaimed Trevor, with another of his Wodehouse comedy expressions. “To whom?”
“To Mann, Bernstein’s accomplice,” Felix repeated.
Trevor’s laugh was forced. “Man, not Mann. But you speak English.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Felix. Bernstein told us we were to take the ring to Mann in New York,” cried Angelica, totally disoriented in her allegiances, divided in her excitement between menace and alarm, pity and scorn for her husband, the misdirected attempt to blackmail Trevor and her confused belief that by punching Rossetti Felix had somehow avenged her for Trevor’s slap. Felix had a vision of Angelica in a mental hospital. They’d be afraid to admit her.
“All right,” said Trevor before Angelica could speak again, and, moving diagonally like a Bishop in a chess game, countered, “The lady wants to be paid and be on her way, is that it?”
“Exactly!” cried Angelica.
All four stared at one another in silence. Trevor pressed a button and Dolly appeared.
“Dolly, the lady is leaving. I hope her husband will follow her. They are very tiresome.”
“I’ll make you a present of him,” said Angelica, motioning toward the groaning figure of Rossetti. “I’ll take the money.”
“But you didn’t do your job, Angelica,” Trevor chided. “I don’t have the ring.”
“What about the risks we ran? I was nearly drowned. You promised us the money, no matter what. You promised, Trevor. You said the risks involved merited it.”
“Yes, Angelica, you are correct.”
Trevor opened a drawer, removed a fat envelope, and handed it to Rossetti’s wife. “Count it carefully. I don’t want any complaints later.”
Angelica greedily thumbed through the green bills, her lips moving silently. “Very well, Trevor. Business is business.”
“And your husband?”
“Get him a job in a pizzeria,” said Angelica, and, following Dolly, exited with her usual arrogance.
31