‘I can understand,’ she said, lowering her eyelids. ‘Are you saying the same thing could happen to me?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m telling you I’m a money-grabbing bastard who’ll push anyone who’s a winner and take my cut.’
‘But you like to give them a rundown first on their prospects?’
‘For my peace of mind, yes. There’s a glimmer of conscience in there somewhere.’
She stopped to perch herself on the concrete edging around a palm, one hand playing with her hair in a consciously feminine posture. ‘Go ahead, then. Tell me about the fate in store for me, Mr. Dryden.’
‘That’s the catch. I can’t.’
‘Come again.’
‘I understand Jim Hansenburg. Goldine Serafin, I don’t.’
‘Why should that be?’ she asked. ‘I’m a simple American girl who aims to win three gold medals.’
‘Why?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘To use a well-worn phrase, What motivates you, Goldine?’
She frowned, bewildered. ‘Is that important?’
‘To me this evening, yes.’
‘I can only answer in another cliché: it’s my life-style.’
He watched her absently shredding a piece of palm bark. He was balked again. She looked ready to talk, but the defenses had been built too high, too strong. ‘How about a drink? The place over there looks okay.’
‘Thanks, but no. Verboten. I’d rather walk along the shore.’
They followed the road down to the beach.
‘You speak German, then?’ Dryden knew how it was to be a laboratory rat; as one way through was barred, another opened.
‘Very little. I had some from my tutor.’
‘Did your mother—’
‘She brought me up to speak English,’ Goldine quickly said.
‘May I ask about her?’
She frowned and thought a moment, studying his face as she made up her mind. Then she said, ‘I can’t tell you much. I was very young. She was an air stewardess, born in Germany during the war. Her mother brought her to California after my grandfather was killed.’
‘Is that her picture in your quarters?’
‘Uhuh. She was pretty.’
‘I thought so, too,’ said Dryden. ‘Strange, though. I couldn’t recognize much of you in the face.’
‘That’s not surprising. There isn’t much of me left.’
‘I don’t follow you, Goldine.’
‘Didn’t they tell you about my rhinoplasty?’
‘Your what?’
She touched her nose. ‘Cosmetic surgery. A nose job. Eighteen months back, I could have passed you in the street. Mousy hair, flat nose, pouchy eyes and saggy breasts. All I had was my six foot two. Doc sent me to a plastic surgeon. He remodeled my nose, removed the pouches from my eyes and gave some shape to my bustline. And they decided I should go blond. You thought I was natural?’ She giggled a little. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s a masculine delusion that you can tell a peroxide blonde as soon as she strips. There’s a great little product called Creme Bleach a girl can safely use anyplace from her eyebrows to her crotch.’
‘And that’s how Goldengirl was created?’
‘Most of her. Do you want to hear the rest? You’ve been honest with me, and I appreciate that. Nobody ever told me before that he was in this for the money. It’s always like they recognize my talent or they want to see me fulfilled or we’re doing it for America. You’re smiling, but that’s what Sammy Lee has started telling me.’
‘He’s a smart psychologist,’ said Dryden. ‘Loyalty is a strong motivating force. You’ll run harder for America than you would for yourself. It’s one of the oldest principles in sports that you go better if you represent something: college, club or country. You’ve been prepared for Moscow as a loner, but by the time of the Olympics, he’ll have you blubbing at the sight of the Stars and Stripes.’
She looked impressed. ‘You know, I think you could help me, Mr. Dryden. What you just said is the kind of thing I need to understand.’
The rainclouds were an unlikely memory as they strolled along the sand of La Jolla Beach, close to the waterline. She took off her shoes and linked her free arm in his as she talked. ‘You know, I’d like to answer that question of yours about why I want to win in Moscow. And let’s be clear. I do want to win. That’s me speaking, not Doc or Sammy or Pete Klugman.’
‘Or Goldengirl?’ said Dryden.
‘You got it. Not Goldengirl. Dean. I Dean Hofmann, mean to win those three gold medals. I’ll try to tell you why, but you must understand some more about the way I was raised. They told you about that?’
‘Not much. You had a private education.’
‘Tutors. I learned to read and write, and I made some progress, I guess. I wouldn’t make UCLA, but I have the basics. From quite early on, the physical side of my development was paramount. By that, I mean I had my own little gym before I was out of diapers. It had a swing, ropes, parallel bars. I had to work out every day, morning and afternoon. I didn’t mind that too much, but there was physiotherapy too, and that could be painful. Doc had a theory about oxygen intake which involved expanding my rib cage. So once a day I was put into something like an old-time corset, except it didn’t compress you, it fastened under your ribs and pulled you out. I hated it. I hated the injections, too.’
‘Injections. What were they?’
‘Iron, I guess. To supplement my strength. Once a week, right up to when I was sixteen. And my diet had to be regulated to my physique. No candy — I really do have my own beautiful teeth — and no jam or iced cakes.’
‘What could you eat?’
‘Whole-wheat bread, skim milk or buttermilk, grapes, oranges, honey, raisins, liver, beef and meat extract — by the spoonful.’
‘That’s a lot of vitamins. Did Serafin measure your progress physically?’
‘Each Monday morning. He still does. A full physical. Everything goes into the records.’
‘And Mrs. Serafin,’ ventured Dryden. ‘What part did she play in your life?’
Goldine smiled wanly and shook her head. ‘She slipped me a chocolate bar sometimes. She wasn’t a dominant personality. If I was ill, she took over. That was nice. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not bitching about my childhood. I couldn’t be a champion if they hadn’t taken care of my body. I have a very good cardiovascular system.’ She picked up a piece of driftwood and made as if to fling it far out to sea, then let it fall in the sand. ‘Did you know that Jean Serafin left him? That really surprised me. I never dreamed she had anything going with another man. She took off to the West Indies the fall before last.’
‘You didn’t think of going with her?’
‘Mr. Dryden—’
‘Jack.’
‘Jack, you’ll find this hard to credit, but I never really got to know Jean. She was younger than Doc, and maybe that made it hard for me to relate to her as a mother figure. I didn’t make it easy for her. If you put together all the stereotypes you’ve ever seen of adopted kids rejecting their surrogate parents, I was it. Doc I could accept: I had no father, so he wasn’t ousting anyone. But Jean I hated. In time, I tolerated her, but we never grew close. It’s only since she left that I realize she had a part in my life.’
‘What was that?’