“On Review Day my platoon won all the silver, and Hedger marched with a limp and a taped nose. And then I realized what I’d done. I — an unmotivated, short-time officer, who couldn’t wait to get out of the Corps — had ruthlessly, gleefully, pursued a good officer — not a very nice guy, but a good officer — pounded him into the ground, inch by inch — for the sheer hell of it. Oh, I didn’t ruin his career, I guess — his platoon finished ahead of the other two and close behind mine — but the commendation that went in my record would have meant a hell of a lot more to him than it did to me. After I thought about it, I was ashamed of what I’d done.
“We got different assignments after that, and I never saw him again. And you know what? Part of the news in that phone call from my brother-in-law last night was that Barry Hedger is working in the Bogotá embassy. He’s my contact if I need help!”
Meg laughed. “I sure as hell hope you don’t need it!” She began clearing dishes away. “Here, take the brandy into the living room.”
He poured two glasses and sank into the large sofa. As he did the lights went off.
“Oh, damn,” she said, settling into the sofa beside him, her feet tucked under her, “the power’s always going out. It’ll probably be out all night.”
“Never mind,” he said, pointing outside, “we’ve got another source of light.” A large moon had risen from the sea, illuminating the room in a patchwork of astonishingly white light.
She rose to her knees, reached down, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. “I didn’t think you’d do this first,” she said.
“I wish I had had the guts,” he replied, kissing her back. He reached for her, and his hand fell squarely on a breast. She made a small noise, and he left it there.
Then, in one smooth motion, she hoisted the caftan over her head and let it drop to the floor. The moonlight made her naked body glow like marble as she helped him with his clothes. They stretched out together on the wide sofa, and in a moment were locked hungrily together.
When they had finished and were lying, spent, Cat felt as if he had taken a great leap across a wide chasm and safely made the other side. He tried to think more about it, but sleep overwhelmed him.
Much later, he woke. The moon was high over the house now, and the room was dark; the veranda and the beach were nearly as bright as day. He thought about himself, thought about the way he had been in the months since Katie had died. With his right hand he felt his wedding ring; he had never taken it off since the day he had been married.
He gently extricated himself from the sleeping Meg and walked out onto the terrace. He continued down to the beach, a warm breeze playing about his naked body. At the water’s edge, tears streaming down his face, he dipped his hand into the water, for lubrication, then, with difficulty, worked the gold band over his knuckle. He stood still for a moment, then drew back and threw the ring as far out into the sea as he could, out to where Katie slept in Catbird. For weeks he had not been able to recall her face clearly, but now he could, this last time. Finally, he could let her go.
“Goodbye, Katie,” he said aloud to her. “Peace.”
He turned and walked back toward the house.
17
When he woke the following morning, the house was empty. He went down to the beach for a swim, and when he came back the smell of bacon greeted him.
“Morning,” she called out. “I had to pick up some groceries. I didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast in ten minutes.”
He showered and got into some shorts. When he came out breakfast was on the table.
“Happy birthday! You were really sleeping this morning,” she laughed.
“Can you blame me?” he asked. “The tennis alone was enough to render me unconscious.”
She looked up from her breakfast. “Am I the first woman you’ve been with since your wife died?”
“Yes.”
She turned back to her food. “Good.”
“That was some birthday present,” he said, and he meant it.
After breakfast he asked about a phone. “I want to see how Rodriguez is doing with the telephone records.”
“In my study, through there.”
The study was also an editing room. A number of videotape machines occupied one end of the space, and everything was pin-neat, very professional. He called the Caribé and asked for Rodriguez.
“Who is calling, please?”
“Mr. Ellis.”
“One moment.” The operator was gone for a few seconds, then came back. “Mr. Rodriguez is not available.”
“Ask him to call me, please.” He gave her the number.
He lay around the house, read for a while, went for a run along the beach while Meg edited her Santa Marta tape on the gamines. When, at five o’clock, Rodriguez had not called back, he rang again and was told the man was still not available.
That night they drove into Cartagena and had dinner at a lovely place in the old city, a restaurant in an open courtyard. The heat and humidity were high, even in the evening, but the food and wine were excellent. Cat found himself relaxing into the relationship with Meg. She was now more than just a lover, she was a friend. Back at home, they made love again, and Cat found it even better than the first time. They were getting to know each other. The following morning he telephoned Rodriguez again and got the same answer from the operator.
“I feel as though I’m getting the runaround,” he told Meg.
“Let me try,” she said. She called the hotel and asked for Rodriguez in Spanish. He came onto the line almost immediately. She handed the phone to Cat.
“Hello, Mr. Rodriguez,” he said. “This is Mr. Ellis. I’ve had difficulty reaching you.”
Surprised, Rodriguez waffled for a moment, then said, “I am very sorry, señor, but a search of our records shows no such telephone call. I will be unable to assist you further.” He hung up.
Cat told Meg what the man had said. “I don’t buy it, do you?”
“Let’s go look him up,” she said.
Cat went to change. As he was leaving the room, he hesitated, then slipped into the shoulder holster and put on a bush jacket. At the hotel, he didn’t ask for Rodriguez but walked around looking for him. Presently they saw the young man talking to a table of guests at poolside. When he turned to walk toward the main building, Cat stepped behind a large palm and waited.
“What are we doing?” Meg asked, getting behind him.
“I don’t want him to see us until it’s too late.” Cat saw the man approaching and stepped out to meet him.
Rodriguez seemed very unhappy to see him. “What is it you want, señor? I must go to a meeting now.”
“Tell me about the telephone call,” Cat said, pleasantly.
“I told you, señor, we have no record of such a call.”
Something snapped in Cat. This man knew something about Jinx, and he wanted to know it. Down a few feet of path from where they stood was a maintenance closet, its door open. A mop and pail were visible inside. Cat grabbed the smaller man by the necktie and hauled him into the closet. Meg was close behind, shutting the door.
“Tell me,” Cat said, trying not to clench his teeth.
“There was no phone call!” the man said. Sweat was pouring down his face.