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"I had four lobsters. I think there's some baking soda in the kitchen."
"I think I'll try a walk," Ann said.
"Then the baking soda." He leaned down then and came up with a flashlight. There were half a dozen of them, the funny-looking kind they had in the military services, with the lens and bulb at right angles to the battery case, lined neatly against the baseboard.
"Here," he said.
"I won't need that," she said. "The sailors may be a little nervous," he said practically. "Better they see you coming than think somebody-like the officer of the guard-is sneaking around to check up on them."
"Thank you," she said, and took the light and walked out toward the boathouse. If he's not there already, it won't be long. They left Summer Place at half past seven. It was fifteen minutes to Lakehurst, and maybe another fifteen minutes to put everybody in the airplane, file a flight plan, and take off. It was about a hundred seventy-five air miles to Washington. At, say, a hundred fifteen knots, that was an hour and a half to Anacostia, call it two hours before they were on the ground.
Then another two hours back to Lakehurst. He should be back about half past midnight. Halfway to the boathouse, startling her, one of the sailors appeared suddenly out of the darkness, his rifle held diagonally across his chest. "Can I help you, Miss?" No, thank you," she said." I'm just going to the boathouse. "Yes, Miss," he said, and when she started walking again, he marched behind her. Ann thought: These guys all had the riot act read to them after Doug lass had glibly talked their way past the sentry on the road when we arrived. This nice-looking man had gotten the message. If I tell him I'm going to the boathouse he intends to see that I go there and nowhere else. As Ann climbed the outside stairway to Canidy's rooms, she expected the door to be locked. But the door was open, and she let herself in. Did that mean he was home already? There was noth
ing to do but turn on the lights, she realized.
Otherwise, the young sailor with the rifle would climb the stairs and see if anything was wrong. She snapped the switch. It was one big room, and he was not there. The bed was mussed, and the ashtray on the table beside it was full of cigarette butts. Half had lipstick on them. That damned Charity doesn't even have the decency to clean up after herself, Ann thought angrily. She dumped the cigarette butts into a wastebasket under the washbasin, then searched in drawers and closets for clean sheets and pillowcases.
She had just finished making the bed when she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs. Suddenly absolutely unable to face Dick Canidy, she retreated first against the wall, then into a closet. I'll have to come out, she thought as she peered through a crack in the slatted door, but not this instant! "Richard? You there?" a male voice called. In a moment, she saw who it was. It was Eric Fulmar, someone everybody seemed to know but no one was willing to talk about. "Shit," Fulmar said, "nobody's home." Now he'll go. Please, God, make him go!
Eric Fulmar looked around the room, found what he was looking for-Canidy's liquor-made himself a drink, and settled himself comfortably to wait for Canidy in the room's one upholstered chair. He didn't have long to wait. An automobile was on the drive. A car door opened and closed, then she heard Canidy's voice: "Thanks. Sorry you had to wait up for me." And then there was the sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs, apparently two at a time. "What the hell?"
Canidy said when he saw Fulmar. "Find everything you wanted?" he asked unpleasantly.
He was wearing his Air Corps uniform. When he took off the tunic, Ann was sure that he would want to hang it up, pull open the closet door, and find her hiding there. But there were two closets, and Canidy kept his uniforms in the other one. "I found the booze,' Fulmar said.
"More important, how did you get in here? You're supposed to be kept in the house."
"If I wanted to leave here,' Eric said, "I could. I hate to tell you this, but your security is a joke."
"What do you want, Eric?" Canidy asked. "I want to talk to you,' Fulmar said. There was a moment's hesitation, and for a moment Ann thought he was going to send Eric Fulmar away. But he didn't. "Okay, we'll talk," he said.
"Fix me a stiff one of those, will you?" He disappeared. In a moment, there was the sound of splashing water. For a moment, Ann was confused.
Then she understood what was going on.
My God, when he does that, it sounds like Niagara Falls. Or afire hose!
Canidy flushed the toilet and came back into sight, He took the drink Fulmar had made and swallowed it straight down. "Jesus!" Fulmar said.
"That was a little quick, wasn't it?"
"I drank about a quart of coffee so that I wouldn't fall asleep on the way home," Canidy said.
"I hope that two or three like that, plus a warm shower, will overwhelm the caffeine. Make me another one, will you?" Then he started to get undressed. He very neatly hung his trousers on a hanger, then tossed his shirt, his T-shirt, and his shorts on top of the soiled sheets.
It's not even funny-looking, Ann decided. He's beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, but that thing between his legs is ugly. "I won't be long," Dick Canidy said to Fulmar. He disappeared again, and there was the sound of a shower running. Much more quickly than Ann expected, he reappeared, still naked, toweling his head. He made a quick swipe at the rest of his body, then wrapped the towel around his waist. My God, ugly or not, I'm disappointed! Canidy picked up his drink and went to his bed. He propped pillows against the headboard and arranged himself against it. "Okay, Eric," he said, "ask away. But make it brief, will you? This has been a bad day."
"Where did you take Jimmy and Martin?" Fulmar asked. "To Washington," Canidy said. "I know that," Fulmar said. "Okay," Canidy said after a minute.
"Why not? The OSS is starting a school in Virginia. Jimmy and Martin are going to be instructors."
"What's the OSS?"
"It stands for the Office of Strategic Services," Canidy said. "We're all in it. Colonel Donovan is the boss."
"What are they going to teach?"
"Martin is a parachute expert. Jimmy is going to teach people to cut throats and blow things up."
