«I see.» She seemed to be hesitating, even a little nervous for a moment. Then she continued. «Do you suppose you could get me on one of the jump-training flights?»
«To jump?»
«Yes. I've got my own gear.»
«Are you planning to apply for a place among the Independents?» said Blade.
Elva laughed. «Oh no. I know my limits. I'm competent enough, but not that athletic. I'm also too sociable to spend my working hours perched on top of some frozen mountain in Russland, with nothing more intelligent than a sheep for fifty miles. It's just that skydiving used to be a hobby of mine. Now the fuel allocation for civilian flying has been cut down so far that it's hard to get someone to take me up.»
Blade knew what Elva meant. Bit by bit, the Imperial government was forcing the people of Englor to tighten their belts. Food, fuel, all sorts of consumer goods were slowly being restricted. Full-scale rationing was at most a few months away.
«I don't think I can do anything for you this week,» said Blade: «There's too heavy a training schedule. Next week, on the other hand-well, I'll see what I can do.»
«I can't ask for more than that,» said Elva, with a smile that seemed to light up the alcove. «Except perhaps if you would care to buy me a drink?»
Blade looked at his watch. It was now past eleven, and he'd been awake and on the go since well before six. On the other hand, he no longer felt tired or sleepy. Perhaps it was the effects of Elva's company? In any case, a drink with her suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
«I'd be delighted,» said Blade, and rose from his chair to take Elva's arm.
Chapter 11
They had to wait a week, but then there was no problem about slipping Elva onto the flight schedule for three jumps. Blade said only that Elva was «considering» applying for field training. «Considering» was a noncommittal word-she could always say afterward that she'd changed her mind, if any bureaucrat seemed likely to make a fuss. Probably none would. Special Operations was run with a refreshing lack of red tape. R knew perfectly well that the kind of people the Division needed for its work couldn't be treated like infantry recruits.
So Blade and Elva spent an entire day of the next week on the jump range. The weather was gray and drizzly in the morning, but in the afternoon the sun came out and made the last two jumps of the day pure pleasure. Blade loved skydiving and warmed to anyone like Elva, who so obviously loved it also.
She not only loved it, she was really good at it. She was in excellent condition, skilled and even graceful in all the movements of leaving the jump plane, guiding herself down through five thousand feet of empty air, and landing safely on the green grass of the drop field. She not only landed safely, she landed as accurately as Blade.
As they were repacking their parachutes after the last jump, a thought struck Blade.
«Why don't we requisition a car and go into town for dinner? I don't know about you, but I haven't been outside the Security Area since I joined Special Operations.»
«Except for that mission to Nordsbergen,» she said quietly.
Blade nodded. «True. But that hardly counts as relaxation. The food was poor, the entertainment worse, and I couldn't say much for the company either.»
Elva laughed. «I'll try to be better company than the Russlanders.»
«I don't imagine you'll have to try very hard,» he said. «Meet me at the garage at six?»
«Fine.»
For the Military Reservation that held Special Operations headquarters, the «town» was York. The old city was much the same mixture of the familiar and the strange that no longer unsettled or confused Blade. He was still alert for any differences that might mean useful knowledge to take back to Home Dimension, or danger for him here in Englor.
Elva had been on duty at the headquarters for nearly three years, so Blade let her act as guide to the restaurants and night life of York. She did as well as she could, considering that there were only half a dozen good restaurants in the city. Fortunately it was a week night, so none of them were packed wall to wall with servicemen on pass.
They settled for a place called the Duke's Head. Blade wondered which duke in particular the name meant, but didn't ask. He didn't want to even hint at any strange ignorance of Englor's history, not to Elva. She'd been asking a good many questions about him and his work-too many for Blade's complete peace of mind. He wasn't suspicious of her-not yet-but he had well-developed instincts against telling anyone more about himself than was absolutely necessary. Those instincts were now fully alert where Elva Thompson was concerned.
They had one of the dining rooms at the Duke's Head to themselves and ate surrounded by dark oak, smoke-tinged red brick, and gleaming copper. The service was good and the food superb. Cheese souffle, country ham with roast potatoes and young peas, fresh strawberries with thick clotted cream, a fine Gallic red wire, and an even finer brandy afterward-it was one of the most agreeable meals Blade could recall eating in any Dimension. He could not help feeling that it was rather a pity he had to be on the alert for whatever games Elva might possibly be playing. A pity or not, it had to be done.
Closing time was approaching. Elva looked into the bottom of her glass, where a few drops of golden brandy still caught the firelight. She seemed to be hesitating over something she badly wanted to say.
«Richard.»
He reached for the brandy bottle. «More?»
She shook her head. «I don't think so.» More silence. «Richard. Have you thought about our possibly spending the night here in town?»
«Tonight?»
«Is there a better night?»
«I can't say. Probably not, if-if this is what you want.» Blade's own hesitation was only partly an act. Elva's question had reminded him of how long he'd been grimly set on doing his job and of how glad he would be of a chance to put it aside for one night.
«Why do you say that?»
«You know what my job is like, Elva. You know how many of the Independents have already bought it and how many more are going to. I think I'm about the last man around Special Operations you ought to let yourself care for.»
Elva seemed to be touched by his concern, but also slightly amused. «Perhaps. But the risk is mine to run, if I want to run it. I won't tell you how to blow up missile bases if you won't tell me how to run my life. Fair enough?»
Blade knew when he'd met a woman who had made up her mind. He lifted his glass and emptied it. «Fair enough. Let's stop and pick up a couple of toothbrushes, then find a hotel.»
The hotel lay with oak trees and gardens all around it, and night birds were singing when Blade and Elva drove up to the front door. Their room was on the second floor, with a window that looked out through the oaks and down the hill, across the countryside to the north. It was dark now, and there was nothing to see beyond the narrow fringe of light around the hotel itself. Blade and Elva would not have been paying much attention to the scenery in any case. They had a time and a place for themselves, where they could stop caring about the rest of the world for a moment.
A fire crackled and flared on the hearth, sending long shadows dancing across the room. It was pleasantly warm in the room, although the night outside was growing chilly.
Elva excused herself briefly, to vanish into the bathroom with their toothbrushes. Blade kicked off his shoes and hung his coat and tie in the closet, then sat down in the big armchair. He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, then the door opened and Elva came out.