Vicarson had heard enough. He drove out to Arlington and saw Paul Bonner.
Bonner remembered Coffey. He had respected him; liked him, actually. The young man had an extraordinary knowledge of the north Cambodian tribes and came up with ingenious suggestions as to how to implement religious symbols in initial contacts. A bold method of operation never considered before.
One aspect of Coffey’s joining the unit stood out in Bonner’s memory. The man was totally soft, completely alien to the demands that would be made upon him in the hills. Probably a faggot, too. As a result of this knowledge, Bonner drove him hard, relentlessly. Not that six weeks would make up for a lifetime, but perhaps enough could be instilled to help him in a pinch.
But it hadn’t been enough, and Coffey was captured in a «scramble.» Bonner blamed himself for not having been tougher with the scholar; but as a professional, he couldn’t dwell on it. He could only learn from it. If the situation ever arose again, where such a man was assigned to him, he’d be unmerciful. Then, perhaps the man might survive.
«There it is, Mr. Trevayne. Lover-didn’t-come-back-to-me.»
Trevayne winced. «Really, Sam. It’s very sad.»
«Sure as hell is. But it’s also enough to throw Bruce out of the box. I happen to like Paul Bonner; I don’t give a shit for that cocksucker. I use the word with legal expertise, sir.»
«I’m sure you do. Now, just hold it on a front burner and we’ll consider all our options.»
«Look, if you’re reluctant to get into this gutter, Mr. Trevayne, I’m not. I mean, it’s not very nice for someone like you, but I’m just a wandering legal genius who has no roots. Just influential employers who, I trust, will not forget my contributions… Let me kick him in the balls; I’d love it.»
«You’re impossible, Sam.»
«Your wife once told me I reminded her of you. Best compliment I ever had… You shouldn’t do it. It’s my job.»
«My wife is an incurable romantic when it comes to energetic young men. And it’s not your job. It’s nobody’s at the moment.»
«Why not?»
«Because Roderick Bruce isn’t acting alone. He’s being fed. He’s not flying solo, Sam. He’s got confederates; right among the people Paul Bonner thinks are his enthusiastic supporters.»
Vicarson lifted his glass as Phyllis Trevayne walked down the stairs and entered the room. «Wow, that’s a wrinkle.»
«You keep that up, Sam, you won’t be invited to a candlelight dinner when Andy’s away.»
«Which is tomorrow,» added Trevayne. «Webster implied that the President thinks I should hear what De Spadante has to say in the morning … in Bonner’s behalf. Which means I listen to Mario de Spadante tomorrow morning ‘up in Greenwich.’»
«You’ll be back by the afternoon. There goes our candlelight dinner, Mrs. Trevayne.»
«Not at all,» said Andy. «I want you and Alan here by five-thirty. Light the candles, Phyl. We may need them.»
37
Mario De Spadante was annoyed that the nurse insisted the shades be raised so as to let in the morning sunlight. But she was a good nurse—not one of his, the hospital’s—and Mario was a polite man to those not in his employ. He let the shades stay up.
Andrew Trevayne had just arrived; he was downstairs being met at a side entrance. He had driven into the parking lot two minutes ago and soon would be coming through the door. Mario had arranged the room as he felt it should look. He was raised in the bed as high as possible, the chair beside him low. The young, well-dressed guard on duty across the room smiled as De Spadante instructed him to crank the bed handle and move the furniture.
The young man was one of William Gallabretto’s assistants from California. He realized that De Spadante might soon order him out of the room, and that meant he had very little time to accomplish his task.
For attached to his lapel in the form of a jeweled American flag was a miniature camera with a shutter-release wire threaded down to his left jacket pocket.
The door opened, and Andrew Trevayne walked into the room. The corridor guard closed the door, making a last-instant check that the third man was inside.
«Sit, sit, Mr. Trevayne.» De Spadante held out his hand, and Andy had no choice but to take it.
The young man by the wall had his hand in his pocket, and, unseen by both men, his thumb made rapid compressions against a small flat metal plunger.
Trevayne sat in the chair, releasing the Italian’s grip as swiftly as possible. «I won’t pretend that I looked forward to this visit, Mr. de Spadante. I’m not sure we have anything to say to each other.»
That’s right, thought the young man by the wall. Move in a bit and look thoughtful, perhaps a little wary, Trevayne. It’ll come out as fear.
«We got a lot to say, amico. I got nothing against you. This soldier, yes. Him I owe for the death of my little brother. Not you.»
«That soldier was attacked, and you know it. I’m sorry about your brother, but he was armed and prowling around on my property. If you were responsible for his being there, look to yourself.»
«What is this? I walked in my neighbor’s field, and he takes my life? What kind of world have we come to?»
«The analogy doesn’t fit. Walking in a field is hardly the same as stalking at night with pistols, knives and … what was it? Oh, yes, iron spikes wrapped around your fingers.»
Perfect, Trevayne, thought the man by the wall. That slight gesture with your palm up. Just right. You, the «capo regime,» explaining to your «capo di tutti capi.»
«I grew up having to defend myself, amico. My fancy schools were the streets, my teachers the big niggers who liked to hammer wop heads. A bad habit, I confess, but an understandable one that I often carry my fist in my pocket. But no guns; never guns!»
«Apparently you have no need for one.» Trevayne looked over at the young man by the wall with his left hand ominously in his jacket pocket. «He looks like a cartoon.»
You’re very funny, too, Trevayne, thought the man by the wall.
«You! Out!… A friend of a cousin; they’re young, what can I do? They have great affection… Out! Leave us.»
«Sure, Mr. de Spadante. Whatever you say.» The young man removed his hand from his jacket pocket. In it he held a box of jujubes. «Care for a candy, Mr. Trevayne?»
«No, thank you.»
«Get out!… Christ, penny candy they got!»
The door closed, and De Spadante shifted his huge bulk in the pillows. «Now, we do some talking, okay?»
«It’s why I flew up. I’d like to make it as short as possible. I want to hear what you have to say; I want you to hear me.»
«You shouldn’t be so arrogant. You know, a lot of people say you’re arrogant, but I tell them that my good amico, Trevayne, he’s not like that. He’s just practical; he doesn’t waste words.»
«I don’t need your defending me—»
«You need something,» interrupted De Spadante. «Christ, you need help.»
«I’m here for one reason only. To tell you to back off from Paul Bonner. You may control your own hoods, De Spadante; get them to swear to whatever you say. But you won’t stand up to the cross-examination we throw at you personally… You’re right, I don’t waste words. You were seen mauling and threatening a congressman one night on the golf course in Chevy Chase. You were seen by a man who reported the incident to me and Major Bonner. That was an act of physical violence; knowledge of it was all the motive Bonner needed to be on guard. Later you were observed thirty-five hundred miles away, following me to San Francisco. We have sworn testimony to that. Major Bonner had every reason to fear for my life… Beyond these irrefutable facts and subsequent reasonable concerns, there are other speculations. How does a man like you get off physically abusing a United States congressman? Because he had the temerity to mention an aircraft company? Why did you follow me to California? Were you trying to corner an assistant of mine down at Fisherman’s Wharf? Attack him too? Why? What have you got to do with Genessee Industries, De Spadante? The court’s going to be concerned with these questions. I’ll make sure of it, because I’ll tie them to your assault on Paul Bonner last Saturday night… I know a little more than I did on that shuttle flight to Dulles. You’re finished … because you’re too obvious. You’re just not desirable.»