“It isn’t that,” she said quickly, too quickly, and embarrassed herself by it. But she didn’t want Bradford to think what she wasn’t permitting herself to think.
But Bradford looked at her closely and said, “It isn’t? What is it, then?”
A mistake. If she hadn’t talked to Robert for the reason Bradford thought, then what was her reason? She floundered briefly, and said, “Well, it was such a shock to me. Such a brand new idea. I wanted to talk to somebody, and I felt I could trust Robert—”
“I wish you’d talked it over with me first,” he said.
“Yes, I should have.”
“I hope he won’t be foolish enough to inform the authorities.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m sure he won’t. He promised me, before he left. But he’ll keep trying to talk you out of it,” she added, giving in for the moment to the hope that Bradford could be talked out of it.
But he shook his head and said, “He’ll be wasting his time. I am absolutely sure of myself now. I haven’t been so positive of a course of action since the first campaign for the Presidency.”
He was that sure? She found her convictions slipping again, the stacked boxes angling a different way, the other perspective dominant all at once. She looked at him, about to say something, she wasn’t sure what, confess something, open her mind to him more completely, but something in his expression stopped her, some shadow or line across his face that reminded her all at once of Harrison, three months ago, and the business of the pipeline. He’d been sure then, too, positive and unreachable, until Herbert Jarvis had shocked him back into realism.
What would shock him out of his sureness this time? What suicide, short of his own?
She buried what she’d been intending to say, and instead told him, “As long as you believe in what you’re doing, that’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he said. “Each of us must follow his own destiny. I have been fortunate in mine.” He seemed to look down from a great height for a moment, as though the chair he was sitting in had risen up into the sky to show him all the nations of the earth. But then his expression shifted, grew more natural, and he looked at her and said, “I imagine you aren’t coming with me.”
“Oh, no! I mean, I’m not sure yet. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“What about Robert?”
“Well — I don’t know how important that really is.” It was easiest to lie with the truth.
“It’s up to him now, is that it?” Bradford smiled slightly, and said, “I think he’ll claim you, Evelyn, I believe he won’t want to give you up.”
Evelyn felt warmth in her face, and didn’t know whether or not it would be best to let her emotions show. But then she realized she had no choice in the matter, she’d already let him see her feelings. “If he does... claim me,” she said, “then I won’t want to go, no. That’s the truth.”
“And only natural,” he said. “I’ll miss you, Evelyn, but I’ll understand.” He smiled boyishly and said, “But I expect it’s going to be quite an adventure. If you do come along, you won’t have much time to mourn lost loves.”
“No, I suppose I won’t.”
“Well, there’s time, there’s still time to make up your mind. I’ve asked them for a passport for you in any case. If you don’t use it, we’ll give it back to them.”
“A passport? I already have a passport.”
“We can hardly travel under our own names,” he said, and the boyish smile flashed again. The idea of the trip clearly delighted him. “We’re getting false passports, you and I, we’ll be a pair out of Eric Ambler.”
“False passports? From where?”
“From the Chinese, of course! I sent them an old photo of you, and your vital statistics. I should be getting them any day now.”
The Chinese. It was real, it was actually real, Bradford was in sub rosa contact with the Communist Chinese! And he’d told them of his plans, and they were helping him, providing passports and who knew what else.
Of course they’d help him, they’d love to get their hands on him, they’d use him the way the brainwashed GI’s were used during Korea.
Had they been in the house, had Chinese agents been within these walls? Was there one here now, hidden somewhere?
No, that was just foolishness, there was no reason for Chinese agents to lie hidden inside this house. Still, she felt the flutter of fright up and down her spine, and she wished this room were better lit. And the hall outside, and all the rooms, all better lit, much more brightly lit. And full of people, known and trusted and real.
Bradford broke into her flowering hysteria without knowing it, calmly saying, “Evelyn.”
She looked at him, and darkness and terrors seemed to recede from the corners of her vision like an ebb tide. “Yes?”
“You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”
“Anyone else? About you, you mean? Of course not!”
“I know someone you’ve been planning to tell,” he said, and his smile now was arch and playful.
Despite that playfulness, she suddenly felt guilty and afraid, like a child caught in a lie. “I’m not planning to tell anybody,” she insisted, knowing that her face was giving her away by turning sullen and mute, the truly childish response.
He remained playful, cocking his head to one side and smiling up at her. “Not even Joe?”
Joe? Uncle Joe! Dr. Joseph Holt! Of course he must be told, she should have gone to him first! He’d know what to do, how to keep Bradford from doing this.
Bradford was looking triumphant now, shaking a finger at her and saying, “Yes, I can see it in your face. You don’t want me to take any trips without Joe looking me over, I know all about that. But, Evelyn—” his manner abruptly changed, became serious and intent “—you can’t tell him about this. I told you my plans in confidence, you can’t spread them around. Robert may keep it to himself, Joe might even keep it to himself, but how can we be sure? Promise me, Evelyn, that you won’t tell Joe.”
Promise a lie? There was nothing else to do. “I promise,” she said. “But you have to promise me something.”
“Oh?”
“You call him yourself, ask for a physical. Say you’re thinking about going out to California again or something. But have him give you a check-up. Will you do it?”
He hesitated, and seemed on the verge of refusing, but abruptly nodded and said, “Done. It’s a deal.”
“You can talk to him Sunday. If you’re going.”
“Going?” He obviously had no idea what she was talking about.
“Greg’s wedding,” she said. “We got the announcement last week, I told you about it.”
“Whose wedding?”
“Greg. Uncle Joe’s son Gregory, he’s marrying Audrey White.”
“I’d forgotten.” He shook his head and made a dismissing motion with one hand. “I have too many relations under twenty-five,” he said, “I can’t remember them all any more. In fact, I’ve stopped trying.”
“Well, are you going to the wedding?”
“No.” He was all at once irritable, cranky, a dozen years older than he’d been just two minutes ago. “I can’t stand that sort of family fuss any more. You go, take my place. I’ll phone the happy couple my best wishes. They can come visit me after their honeymoon, I’ll give them a patriarch’s blessing.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“No. A wedding? Definitely not.”
“I thought you could talk to Uncle Joe then, while you were there. Do you want me to?”
“No.” His irritability was increasing. “We have a deal, Evelyn, don’t push it. I’ll call him myself, before we leave.”