The maitre d' greeted them unctuously and led them to a table tucked intimately away in a small nook. The decor was early French bistro: reproductions of Toulouse Lautrec's posters, aged advertisements of Ricard, Pernod, and a Rheims champagne. The room was moderately full of prosperous diners.
Andre put menus before them, brought forth a pad and stylo, and looked inquiringly, politely, and most earnestly at Gary McBride.
Gary McBride said to Lee, "The menu is in French. Shall I order?"
"Please do," she said, putting down her own carte.
Consulting with the headwaiter as he went, very seriously indeed, Gary McBride ordered as their first course Oeufs en Cocotte Bourguignonne, with a Meursault '48 to accompany it. When the wine arrived, Andre again presided pouring a small amount into McBride's tulip-shaped glass. He sipped it carefully, after he tested the bouquet, and thoughtfully pursed his lips.
Andre murmured, "Le vin est a votre gout?"
"Excellent," Gary McBride nodded, and the headwaiter filled both glasses two-thirds full.
Eggs a la Bourguignonne turned out to be poached in red burgundy, and for a moment, both were silent as they sampled. Gary McBride said, "A pity to discuss business while eating, my dear, but I understand that you were contacted, as planned, by a member of the Anti-Racist League." Lee nodded. "Yes," she said. "I'm afraid I muffed it."
"Not to worry, my dear. What went wrong?"
"I underestimated him. He was a black; well-educated. What tipped him off, I have no idea, but he saw through me. I suppose it was rather humorous. He pretended to get somewhat tipsy and, ah, pretended to make a rather crude play for me."
His eyebrows went up.
t rape, and revealed that I wasn't truly material for the Anti-Racists. He told me off very efficiently, greatly amused."
"I see. Then your cover is blown, so far as the Anti-Racist League is concerned."
"I'm afraid so."
"Not to worry," he said again. "Ah, the duck." The Canard a L'Orange arrived with the Richebourg '65
he had ordered, and again went through the wine-tasting ceremony.
When the waiter had retired he said, "You were not alone. The Foundation has several, ah, agents making the same attempt to penetrate the Anti-Racist League. You were but one. Others, it is to be assured, will be more successful."
She said, "I wasn't told a great deal about the purpose of my mission. Actually, in spite of my silly scene with Horace Hampton, I am not particularly prejudiced so far as minorities are concerned. I was rather surprised that the Race Research Foundation was interested in infiltrating his organization. I thought its research would be along other lines."
"It is but one ramification of a much broader project. You see, Lee, the Anti-Racist League is a racist organization itself."
"I don't understand."
"In much the same way that the Zionists were."
She frowned slightly at him. "I'm not anti-Semitic, either."
"Nor am I, nor is the Foundation. We're far above such ridiculous postures. But there are most pertinent matters involved. The Anti-Racist League was not of particular import to us so long as it was active in the original fifty states alone. The minorities they represent numbered but some sixteen percent of the population; no great danger to our status quo. However, they are now, ah, beginning to spread into Latin America and other areas of the new United States of the Americas."
She scowled down at her plate. "I don't believe I follow you."
"These new citizens have the vote, Lee. There are enough blacks in Haiti, Jamaica, and even the Guianas to assure that their senators and representatives will be represented in Congress by blacks—if steps are not taken. It's equally true for Mexico, Central America, and the parts of South America which are chiefly Indian."
"So the purpose of the Race Research Foundation is…"
"Ultimately, to maintain the status quo. To see that our people, yours and mine, do not vanish from the positions of power they now assume. Ah, but here is the cheese. I have ordered a selection of Roquefort, Brie, and Chevre."
The cheese was accompanied by a bottle of Rose d'Anjou, following which the waiter brought Crepes de Chapitre.
Lee, who had been silent and thoughtful through these culinary wonders, said at one point, "But since my cover has been blown, as you put it, I am no longer of value to the Foundation."
He smiled at her condescendingly. "We'll discuss it later in my office, my dear."
When they finished the meal, Andre returned, bowing unctuously again.
He said to Gary McBride, "Ca vous a plu, le repas, Monsieur McBride?"
"II etait superb, Andre," the other told him grandly.
Andre looked at Lee. "Et Madam?"
Lee said, ' 'Mes felicitations au chef pour ses crepes. Us etaient commes des diners de George Garin au Chateau du Clos de Veuheot. IIy avaient des autres nobles efforts."
"Merci, Madam." Andre bowed deeply and was gone.
Gary McBride gaped at her. "Parisian French," he said accusingly.
"My father was in the diplomatic corps. In Paris, I attended the Lycee Janson de Sailly. I also have Spanish, Portugese, and Italian, and can get along in German. My Russian is atrocious."
"All Russian is atrocious," he smirked, then saw irritation in her face. "Or did I make a mistake?"
She said, evenly, "Several. Never order such a wine as Richebourg with such a dish as Canard a L'Orange. Nor any other wine, for that matter. The acid of the orange sauce destroys the enjoyment of any great wine. The sole exception is Bouzy, from the Champagne district. If you must order Richebourg it is worthy of a much greater dish, such as Venison Grand Veneur or Lievre a la Royale."
"I see," he said coldly. "And what else?"
"None of the cheeses were from Burgundy. A Brillat Savarin or ripe Epoisse would have been preferable. And Rose d'Anjou, a suspect wine at best, is anathema to both Burgundy food and any cheese and most certainly should never do for the crepes, which were excellent, as I told the maitre d'. By the way, his French has a horrible Brooklyn accent."
"I see," he said. "Shall we go?" He stood, tossing his napkin to the table.
She looked up at him. "Why? My one assignment for the Race Research Foundation came a cropper. I should have looked further into the whole thing before undertaking it. If I had, possibly I would have refused the job. I was too thrilled at the prospect of actually being employed when the computer selected me to work for you, Mr. McBride. Now, even if you did have some position I could hold down, I'm not sure I would choose to be associated with such a pompous superior.''
He grinned suddenly, which completely altered his face. He said, "Good. We've got some things to discuss."
She shrugged in resignation, dropped her own napkin to the table, and stood. "I can't imagine what," she murmured.
At the desk, he brought forth his card and placed it in the payment slot, saying, "Please add a twenty percent tip."
"Thank you, sir," the screen said.
As he was returning his credit card to an inner pocket, he turned his eyes to Lee and smiled again. "How's my French?"
Her face was expressionless. "Only fair," she said. "You seldom acquire a proper French accent outside France or Switzerland. I suspect that most of your instructors were Americans. The French are fanatical about accent."
"I surrender," he said, taking her arm.
The Manhattan office of the Race Research Foundation was within easy walking distance and since it was located in the vicinity of New Columbia University, it made for a pleasant stroll. They maintained silence during the walk and Lee Garrett was surprised at the fact that he was still amused. This was a different Gary McBride. Gone was the affected front. What in the world was this all about? The fluffing of the job wasn't particularly important. But what she had told Horace Hampton had been partly correct. She was tired of the frivolous life and would have liked something worthwhile to do.