Nightwork

'Yes, but...'

'I know what you are going to say - you do not intend to pay it. I take it for granted that you have not declared the seventy thousand dollars that is the subject of our discussion. If you merely spend it, you would not be in any difficulty. But if you increased it, in legal or even semi-legal ways, you would have to beware of the legion of American agents all through Europe, of informers in banks and business houses.... You would always have the fear of confiscation of your passport, fines, criminal prosecution...'

'And you?' I asked, feeling locked in a corner by his logic.

'I am a British subject,' he said, 'domiciled in the Bahamas. I don't even fill out a form. Just one quick example - you, as an American, are not legally permitted to trade in gold, although your government is making certain noises that indicate that will be changed eventually. But there is no such restriction on me. The gold market these days is most seductive. In fact, even while I was amusing Mr Sloane and my Greek with our little games, I put in an order for a tidy amount. Have you been following the rate of gold recently?'

'No.'

'I am ahead - we are ahead - ten thousand dollars on our investment.'

'In just three weeks?' I asked incredulously.

'Ten days, to be exact,' Fabian said.

What else have you done with my money?' I still clung to the singular possessive pronoun but with diminishing vigor.

'Well...' For the first time since he had come out of the bathroom, Fabian looked a little uneasy. 'As a partner, I don't intend to hide anything from you. I've bought a horse.'

'A horse!' I couldn't help groaning. 'What kind of horse?'

'A thoroughbred. A racehorse. Among other reasons, which 111 come to later, that was why I didn't appear as scheduled in Florence. Much to Lily's annoyance, I must admit. I had to come to Paris to complete the deal. It is a horse that took my eye at Deauville last summer, but which I was not in a position to buy at that time. Also' - he smiled -'it wasn't for sale then. A friend of mine who happens to Own a racing stable and a breeding farm in Kentucky expressed an interest in the colt - a stallion, by the way, and potentially quite valuable later on at stud - and I am sure he would show his gratitude in a substantial way if I were to let him know that I am now the owner of the animal. Out of friendship, I plan to indicate to him, I'd be ready to part with it.'

"What if he indicates to you that he's changed his mind?' By now, almost insensibly, I had been swept into what just fifteen minutes before I would have considered a gambler's insane fantasies. That he doesn't want to buy it anymore?'

Fabian shrugged, rubbed lovingly at the ends of his mustache, a gesture I was to come to recognize as a tic, useful to gain time when he didn't have a ready answer to a question.

'In that case, old man,' he said, 'you and I would have a fine start toward a racing stable. I haven't chosen any colors as yet. Do you have any preferences?'

'Black and blue,' I said.

He laughed. He had a hearty, Guards' officer kind of laugh. 'I'm glad to see you have a sense of humor,' he said. 'It's a bore doing business with the glum.'

'Do you mind telling me what you've paid for this brute?' I asked.

'Not at all. Six thousand dollars. He broke down in training last autumn with something called splints, so he comes as a bargain. The trainer's an old friend of mine' - I was to find out that Fabian had old friends all over the globe and in all professions - 'and he assures me he's as right as a dollar now.'

'Right as a dollar.' I nodded, in pain. 'While we're at it, Fabian,' I said, 'are there any more ... uh ... investments that I happen to have in my portfolio?'

He played with his mustache again. 'As a matter of fact, yes,' he said. 'I hope you're not overwhelmingly prudish.'

I thought of my father and his Bible. 'I would say medium,' I said. 'Why?'

'There's a delightful French lady I make a point of looking up every time I come to Paris.' He smiled, as though welcoming the delightful French lady into his dreams. 'Interested in films. Been an actress in her time, she says. On the producing side now. An old admirer has been staking her. Not sufficiently, I gather. She's in the middle of making a picture at the moment. Quite dirty. Quite, quite dirty. I've seen some of the - I think they call them dailies in the industry. Most amusing. Have you any idea what a movie like Deep Throat has brought in for its backers?'

'No.'

'Millions, lad, millions.' He sighed sentimentally. 'My delightful little friend has let me read the script, too. Most literate. Full of fancy and provocation. Essentially innocent in my opinion. Almost decorous from a sophisticated point of view, but a little bit of everything for every taste. Something like a combination of Henry Miller and the Arabian Nights. But my delightful lady friend - she's directing it herself, by the way - she got the script almost for nothing from a young Iranian who can't go back to Iran - but even though she's making it on a shoestring - some of the most lucrative of these particular works of art are made for under forty thousand dollars - I think Deep Throat cost no more than sixty - as I was saying, her bookkeeping doesn't quite match her talent - she's just a slip of a woman - and when she told me she needed fifteen thousand dollars to complete the picture...'

'You said you'd give it to her.'

'Exactly.' He beamed. 'Out of gratitude she offered me twenty percent of the profits.'

'And you said you'd take it?'

'No, I held out for twenty-five.' He beamed again. I may be a friend, but I'm a businessman first.'

'Fabian,' I said. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.'

'In the long run,' he said, 'you'll smile. At least smile. They're having a screening of what they've shot thus far this evening. We're all invited. I guarantee you'll be impressed.'

'I've never seen a pornographic movie in my life,' I said.

'Never too late to begin, lad. Now,' he said briskly, 'I suggest we go down to the bar and wait for Lily. She can't be too long. We can cement our partnership in champagne. And I'll treat you to the best lunch you've ever eaten. And after lunch we'll take in the Louvre. Have you ever been to the Louvre?'

'I just arrived in Paris yesterday.' 'I envy you your initiation,' he said.

* * *

We had just about finished a bottle of champagne when Lily Abbott strode into the bar. When Fabian introduced me as an old friend from St Moritz, she did not show, by as much as the blink of an eye, that we had ever gone so far as to shake hands in Florence.

Fabian ordered a second bottle.

I wished I liked the taste.

13

We were eight in the small screening room. My feet ached from the Louvre. The room smelled of twenty years of cigarettes and sweat. The building on the Champs Elysees was a shabby one with creaky, old-fashioned elevators. The peeling signs of the businesses on the floors we passed all looked like advertisements for concerns that were well into bankruptcy and minor evasions of the criminal code. The corridors were dimly lit, as though the people who frequented the building did not wish to be clearly observed as they came and went. With Fabian, Lily, and myself were Fabian's delightful French lady, whose name was Nadine Bonheur. At the console in the rear was the cameraman on the picture, a weary, gray professional of about sixty-five who wore a beret and a permanent cigarette hanging from his lip. He looked too old for this sort of work and kept his eyes almost completely closed at all times, as though he did not want to be reminded too definitely of what he had recorded on the film we were about to see.

Seated together on the far aisle were the two stars of the film, a slender dark young man, probably a North African, with a long, sad face, and a pert, pretty young American girl by the name of Priscilla Dean, with a blonde ponytail, an anachronistic, fresh-faced relic of an earlier generation of Midwestern virgins. She was primly dressed and looked as proper as a starched lace apron. 'It's a pleasure, I'm sure,' she said, her voice pure Iowa. I was introduced without ceremony to the others, the atmosphere businesslike. We might have been assembled for a lecture on the marketing of a breakfast food.