«No, but I once did a little modeling,» replied Redwing, not only caught off guard but modestly enjoying the moment.
«A step, dear child, merely a step, but in the right direction. Perhaps we should lunch one day. I give private lessons, the fees in certain cases, shall we say, dismissible.»
«She’s a lawyer, for God’s sake!» said Sam, not entirely sure why he was so adamant.
«That’s a terrible waste,» said the actor, slowly releasing the hand in his grip. «As the Bard put it in Henry Six, Two, ‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.’ … Not you, of course, Aaron, for you have the soul of an artist.»
«Yes, well, let me introduce you, Henry. The actress—the attorney—is Miss Redwing.»
«Enchanté, mademoiselle—»
«Before you maul her hand again, I’m Sam Devereaux, and I’m also an attorney.»
«Shakespeare had his insights—»
«And this gentleman in Indian attire is General MacKenzie Hawkins—»
«Oh, you’re the one!» exclaimed the performer, grabbing the Hawk’s hand and shaking it firmly. «I saw that film about you—how could you stand it? Didn’t you have any control over the casting, the script? My God, man, that jackass playing you should have worn lipstick!»
«I think he did,» said the general warily, but not unimpressed.
«Everyone,» interrupted Pinkus, «I want you to meet Henry Irving Sutton, as in England’s Sutton Place—his ancestral home—and frequently referred to in the newspapers as Sir Henry Irving S., after the great Victorian actor to whom he’s often compared. An outstanding artist of the stage—»
«Who says?» said Sam petulantly.
«Small minds make for large doubters,» answered Henry Irving Sutton, looking with bemusement at Devereaux.
«Who said that, Felix the Cat?»
«No, it was a French playwright named Anouilh. I doubt you’ve heard of him.»
«Oh yeah? How about ‘There’s nothing left to do but scream!’ … Huh? How about that?»
«Antigone, but your translation’s inaccurate.» Sutton turned to Hawkins. «General, do me a favor—I ask it as a former second lieutenant in the African T O, where I heard you speak many times, as often as not railing against Montgomery.»
«You were there?»
«Combat Intelligence, attached to OSS-Tobruk.»
«You boys were the best! You had those Krauts buffaloed in the big Sahara. They didn’t know where our tanks were!»
«Most of us were actors who could speak a little German. Really, we were overrated—it was so easy to portray soldiers dying of thirst and sputtering wrong information while going into comas. Actually, very simple.»
«You were in the enemy’s uniforms. You could have been shot!»
«Perhaps, but where do you get a chance to play such parts?»
«Well, I’ll be goddamned! Whatever you want, soldier, I’ll do it.»
«Screwed again,» mumbled Devereaux. «He does this to me all the time.»
«I want you to speak, General, preferably reciting something we both might know, say a piece of doggerel or a poem, or perhaps the words of a song, repeating whatever you like. Also, talk normally or shout, whatever’s natural.»
«Let’s see, now,» said the Hawk, squinting. «I’ve always been kinda partial to the old army standby, you know the one. ‘Over hill, over dale, we will hit the dustee trail—’»
«Don’t sing, General, just talk it through,» ordered the actor, his facial expressions instantly parroting those of MacKenzie, sounds softly emerging as the old war-horse martially peeled off the words of «The Caissons Go Rolling Along.» Then, suddenly, as though the two voices of a roundelay were merged, one fading, the other surviving, Henry Irving Sutton was speaking alone, his vocal tone and cadences, his body gestures and facial contortions, nearly indistinguishable from the Hawk’s.
«Goddamn!» exclaimed the general, as bewildered as he was astonished.
«Remarkable, Henry!»
«Not bad, if I do say so.»
«You’re a terrific actor, Mr. Sutton!»
«Oh, no, dear child of Elysium,» protested Sir Henry Irving S. modestly. «That’s not acting, it’s merely mimicry, which any second-rate comic can do. You’re fooled by the gestures and the expressions as much as you are by the vocal intonations… I explain this thoroughly in my private lessons. Lunch?»
«Why the hell didn’t they get you to play my part in that goddamn movie?»
«A dreadful agent, mon général, you have no idea what it’s like… Picture an outstanding staff officer who is not permitted to show his mettle in battle because his so-called superior is afraid his organization will fall apart—in my case it was a steady salary from a soap.»
«I’d have the bastard shot!»
«I tried that. Fortunately, I missed… Lunch, Miss Redwing?»
«I think we should get down to the business at hand,» said Pinkus firmly, gesturing at the chairs and the sofa for everyone to use. They did so, Sam rushing to sit between Jennifer and Sutton.
«Of course, Aaron,» agreed the actor, glaring at the interloper. «I merely wanted to assuage a small mind that apparently belongs in the Lesser Antilles, if you catch the mixed metaphor.»
«It’s singularly apparent, Kermit the Frog,» said Devereaux.
«Sam!»
«Okay, Jenny, I’m overreacting. I never do that in court.»
«Business?» Pinkus signaled Cyrus, who was purposely staying as far away from Henry Irving S. as possible, the ride out from Boston with the actor having tried his patience, if not his sanity. «Should your colleague join us?» asked Aaron.
«I’ll tell him everything he should know,» said Cyrus quietly, sitting down. «I’d like to keep this as simple as possible. Frankly, the combo of Roman Z and your new recruit doesn’t appear to be the most stable. I’ll handle it.»
«You have a fine deep voice, young man,» interrupted Sir Henry, obviously annoyed that he could not overhear Cyrus and the elderly attorney. «Have you ever sung ‘Ol’ Man River’?»
«Get off my case, man,» said the mercenary.
«No, I’m quite serious. A revival of Showboat—»
«Henry, my friend, all that can come later,» Aaron broke in, holding up both hands in dissuasion. «We haven’t much time.»
«Of course, dear boy, the curtain must go up.»
«As soon as possible,» concurred Cyrus. «Even tonight, preferably tonight, if we can.»
«How do you think we should proceed?» asked Jennifer.
«I can make contact with this so-called Nobel committee at that hotel as the General’s civilian aide,» answered the mercenary. «I’ve got decent clothes in my suitcase, but we’ve got to get something for Roman to wear.»
«My brother-in-law has a closet full of clothes and he’s roughly your colleague’s size—he lifts weights, even at his age. Also, Mrs. Lafferty’s an excellent seamstress—»
«Then that’s settled,» interrupted the impatient Cyrus. «We just have to try and find out who those clowns from Air Force Two really are and how to handle them.»
«I’ve already done that,» said MacKenzie Hawkins, relighting his mangled cigar.
«What?»
«How?»
«When?»
The tumult of stunned voices assaulted the Hawk, who merely raised his bushy eyebrows and blew a circle of smoke above his face.