“And yet I remember nothing about you.” She put her fingers lightly on the back of his hand. “You seem very nice... just the kind of husband I would choose. How long have we been married?”
“Three years,” Girland said glibly.
“Have we any children?”
“No.”
“Why is that, Mark?”
He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly uneasy.
“We’ve been moving around... we haven’t had much chance to settle down.”
“What is your business?”
“I work for I.B.M.... the computer people. Right now I am doing a deal here and I hired this villa while I’m fixing things.”
“Where is here?” She seemed to be listening in an abstract kind of way, but Girland had a feeling she was growing tense.
“Eze... near Nice in France,” he told her.
“Are you a very important person, Mark?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m pretty successful. No more than that.”
“Then why are there soldiers patrolling the garden with guns?”
Girland’s brain worked quickly.
“I have a deal set up with the French Government,” he said smoothly. “The Minister of Finance is coming here in a day or so. Someone threw a bomb at him last month. He is a little nervous. We called out the Army to give him confidence. It’s all rather silly, but the deal is important. You don’t have to worry about them.”
He was watching her carefully. She seemed to relax a little.
“I see.” She turned to look at him. The dark, violet-blue eyes searched his face. “I am glad you are my husband, Mark. You don’t know what it means to lose the past the way I have lost it and then to find myself in this lovely room with someone like you.”
Girland shifted.
“I understand. You’ll recover your memory soon. You see...”
“Did we ever quarrel?”
“Why, no. What should we quarrel about?”
“Married people do, don’t they?”
He decided to shift the conversation, which was becoming embarrassing to him, to safe ground.
“Don’t you remember one little thing of your past, Erica?” he asked. “Don’t you even remember the trip we did a couple of months ago to Pekin?”
She stiffened and her hands turned into fists.
“Pekin?”
“Yes.”
She sat for a long moment, staring out of the window.
“I didn’t like Pekin,” she said in a cold, flat voice.
“Why do you say that?”
She made a movement of distaste.
“I don’t know. It’s something I feel What happened to me in Pekin?”
“Why, nothing. I was there on business,” Girland lied. “You did a lot of sightseeing while I was busy. Don’t you remember?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It is something unpleasant to me.”
“But I thought you enjoyed it. Don’t you remember those grapes?” Girland leaned forward. “The black ones...”
She turned swiftly, her eyes suddenly bright and animated.
“There was one... a beautiful thing. There was a golden dragon... there was...” Then her eyes went dull again and putting her hands to her head, she exclaimed, “Oh, why can’t I remember! The grape is so important!”
“Why is it important?”
“I don’t know, but I feel it is important. I had it with me... I...” She broke off, looking distressed.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” Girland said soothingly. “Give it time.” He got to his feet. “I’ll see you again in a little while. I have a lot of work to do right now. Just relax and don’t worry. Do you want something to read?”
“No. I want to think. I feel the more I think, the quicker I will remember.”
“All right, but don’t overtax yourself. I’ll tell Nurse Roche to come up. She’ll keep you company.”
“Not now... later, perhaps.” She smiled at him and held out her hand. When he took it, she pulled him closer and offered him her lips. They kissed, then she leaned back. “All right, Mark, go and do your work. Come and see me again soon.”
A trifle shaken, Girland left the room and walked down the stairs to the living room. Ginny was glancing through the newspaper. She looked up at him inquiringly.
“Ginny, dear, there is one thing bothering me and we’ll have to attend to it,” Girland said. “Erica must have some clothes. Will you go to Nice right away and buy her whatever she should have? Better take Diallo with you. He has the money. Will you do that?”
“Of course,” Ginny said.
When she had gone up to change, Girland went over to the desk, took out Kung’s file and carrying it out onto the terrace, settled down to examine it.
Around midday, the traffic up to the Grande Corniche began to thicken. A stream of rubberneck buses, packed with tourists, came crawling up the steep hill and along the curving road, stopping every now and then to allow photographic enthusiasts to snap their cameras out of the open windows.
Pfc Dave Fairfax sat in his Jeep which was parked in a lay-by and watched the traffic with a jaundiced eye. His receiving set played soft, swing music. The Alsatian police dog slept at the back of the Jeep.
Fairfax was not only bored, but irritated. Hadn’t his Sergeant told him that sitting up on this goddam road was so much waste of time? How much more pleasant it would have been to be in the garden of the Villa where the other boys were. Some of them had organised a crap game, and Fairfax fancied himself as an expert. If he had been down there instead of up on this sun blistered road, he could have cleaned up, and he needed the money. There was that French chick he had run into on Villefranche harbour the other night. She was aching for it, but he knew instinctively what she would cost. The trouble was he had competition with the goddam Navy. Those guys certainly had it good. Once they got off that lump of iron anchored in the harbour, the chicks were all over them.
Three rubberneck buses moved slowly past him. An owl-faced man with thick horn-rimmed spectacles leaned out of the window and took a photograph of the Jeep. Fairfax made a face at him. He lifted one finger and stabbed the air with it. The owl-faced man grinned, and the bus moved on.
Fairfax shifted in his seat. It was hot. He thought longingly of the shady garden. It did him some good to watch the number of cars crawling behind the buses. The expressions of exasperation on the drivers’ faces as they realised it wasn’t possible to get by the line of buses amused Fairfax. At least he wasn’t the only one to be suffering.
Convinced he was wasting his time, assured by O’Leary that there was no way for anyone to get down to the Villa from the Corniche, Fairfax was far from being alert. Every now and then, he dozed. After all, he argued, if the dog could sleep, why shouldn’t he?
He failed to notice, among the crawling traffic, a black 404. Had he been alert, he might have become curious at the sight of a pretty Vietnamese girl at the wheel. By her side was a slimly built man who looked half-Chinese. In the rear of the car was a young beatnik who lolled against the back of the seat, his small black eyes restless and glittering.
“On your left,” Pearl said softly.
Sadu had already seen the Jeep. He stiffened and put his hand up to his face. Jo-Jo also looked at the Jeep. He saw an American soldier, his feet up on the dashboard, his jaw moving rhythmically as he chewed gum, his eyes half-closed.
“Do you think they have found the path?” Sadu asked as Pearl brought the car to a stop in the traffic block.
“They may have. You’ll have to go with him, Sadu,” Pearl returned.
Sadu grimaced.
“You have my gun,” Jo-Jo said. “I’ll bring the rifle.” Leaning forward, he dropped the silenced.38 into Sadu’s lap.
Sadu hurriedly shoved the gun down the waistband of his trousers. He hated all this, but it was something he couldn’t shirk.