moved my finger down the column . and found it-Danziger,E.E.-and smiled. Should I call him right now? I wanted to, but it was far too late. I'd phone in the morning and invite him to lunch; I'd be glad to see Dr. D, and knew he'd be glad to see me. I was tired, as though I'd traveled for hours, the two drinks I'd had downstairs helping the feeling along. I switched on the air-conditioning, mostly for the pleasure of being able to, and got to bed.
The light out, I waited, knowing sleep would be along quickly. A police car or ambulance howled down in the streets somewhere. Should I have come back? Was it wise? A car drove over a manhole cover, wump-wump, and I smiled, and in my head sang, I'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten . .
CHAPTER 8
RUBE PRIEN SAT in the windowless little street-level office of the
Project; sat on the edge of the worn oak desk, swinging a foot, looking around: at the out-of-date wall calendar still reading
Beekey's, at the framed photographs of long-gone moving crews.
He was nervous, therefore irritable; hated waiting. He stood, walked a step or two to the street door, and opened it wide, turning back to the desk. He sat down and hopped right up again, back to the door to almost close it, leaving it ajar by an inch. He studied this narrow gap of daylight, then opened the door perhaps half an inch more, and returned to his desk.
Outside, approaching along the walk on the same side of the street, Dr. E. E. Danziger walked toward this door fairly rapidly, a tall, thin, elderly but not-quite-old man in a dark topcoat and tan felt hat. This was late morning, temperature around fifty, the sk a high-up even gray. He glanced at a band of faded black-and- white lettering-BEEKEY BROTHERS, MOVING AND STORAGE-running around the roofline edge of the great blank-walled brick building that filled the block just ahead. It looked the same:
Was it possible that it was? That for the past three years the Project had gone on very well without him?
Now he stopped at the corner of the l)uildiflg to look at the weathered gray door there, and thought he knew why it stood invitingly ajar. Thought he knew that if he accepted this tacit invitation, pushing the door open and stepping in, he would seem to have agreed that he belonged here still, still had the right to walk in. But he was not going to make this meeting so easy for
Ruben Prien; the major had some crow to eat.
Without stepping closer he reached forward and with a big blunt forefinger pushed the door hard enough to swing it wide, but he stood where he was, looking in at Rube hopping quickly from the desk, smiling that sudden fine Rube Prien smile, mouth opening to welcome him. But Dr. Danziger, face blankly unresponsive, spoke first. "May I come in?"
It flustered Rube; Danziger saw him blink. "Of course, of course!
Come in!
Walking in slowly, Danziger said, "Oh no; there's no of course anymore about me coming in here uninvited. You threw me out, didn't you?" Then, voice neutral: "How are you, Rube?"
"I'm fine, Dr. Danziger. And you're looking good."
"No I'm not. I was old when you saw me last, and now I'm older." He looked carefully around the little anteroom. "Looks the same. No change."
"Oh, it is, it is. Dr. D, we could still go have lunch somewhere.
Be a lot pleasanter to talk."
"No. I'm not ready to break bread with you, Rube: I'm still puzzling out my feelings."
"Oh?" Face uncomfortable, Rube stood wanting to ask his guest to sit down, wanting to be hospitable, to get this off dead center, but not quite daring.
"Of course. I felt confused when you phoned. Wondering as I heard your voice whether I hated you. Should I refuse right then and there to ever even look at you again? Or come here and look my fill, indulging my hatred, feeding it. And thinking of revenge.
He smiled. "Or vengeance; I like that form better, don't you? And yet as we spoke, I thought maybe what I felt wasn't hate but only powerful dislike. So unforgiving I wouldn't be
The light out, I waited, knowing sleep would be along quickly. A police car or ambulance howled down in the streets somewhere. Should I have come back? Was it wise? A car drove over a manhole cover, wump-wump, and I smiled, and in my head sang, I'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten . .
CHAPTER 8
RUBE PRIEN SAT in the windowless little street-level office of the
Project; sat on the edge of the worn oak desk, swinging a foot, looking around: at the out-of-date wall calendar still reading
Beekey's, at the framed photographs of long-gone moving crews.
He was nervous, therefore irritable; hated waiting. He stood, walked a step or two to the street door, and opened it wide, turning back to the desk. He sat down and hopped right up again, back to the door to almost close it, leaving it ajar by an inch. He studied this narrow gap of daylight, then opened the door perhaps half an inch more, and returned to his desk.
Outside, approaching along the walk on the same side of the street, Dr. E. E. Danziger walked toward this door fairly rapidly, a tall, thin, elderly but not-quite-old man in a dark topcoat and tan felt hat. This was late morning, temperature around fifty, the sk a high-up even gray. He glanced at a band of faded black-and- white lettering-BEEKEY BROTHERS, MOVING AND STORAGE-running around the roofline edge of the great blank-walled brick building that filled the block just ahead. It looked the same:
Was it possible that it was? That for the past three years the Project had gone on very well without him?
Now he stopped at the corner of the l)uildiflg to look at the weathered gray door there, and thought he knew why it stood invitingly ajar. Thought he knew that if he accepted this tacit invitation, pushing the door open and stepping in, he would seem to have agreed that he belonged here still, still had the right to walk in. But he was not going to make this meeting so easy for
Ruben Prien; the major had some crow to eat.
Without stepping closer he reached forward and with a big blunt forefinger pushed the door hard enough to swing it wide, but he stood where he was, looking in at Rube hopping quickly from the desk, smiling that sudden fine Rube Prien smile, mouth opening to welcome him. But Dr. Danziger, face blankly unresponsive, spoke first. "May I come in?"
It flustered Rube; Danziger saw him blink. "Of course, of course!
Come in!
Walking in slowly, Danziger said, "Oh no; there's no of course anymore about me coming in here uninvited. You threw me out, didn't you?" Then, voice neutral: "How are you, Rube?"
"I'm fine, Dr. Danziger. And you're looking good."
"No I'm not. I was old when you saw me last, and now I'm older." He looked carefully around the little anteroom. "Looks the same. No change."
"Oh, it is, it is. Dr. D, we could still go have lunch somewhere.
Be a lot pleasanter to talk."
"No. I'm not ready to break bread with you, Rube: I'm still puzzling out my feelings."
"Oh?" Face uncomfortable, Rube stood wanting to ask his guest to sit down, wanting to be hospitable, to get this off dead center, but not quite daring.
"Of course. I felt confused when you phoned. Wondering as I heard your voice whether I hated you. Should I refuse right then and there to ever even look at you again? Or come here and look my fill, indulging my hatred, feeding it. And thinking of revenge.
He smiled. "Or vengeance; I like that form better, don't you? And yet as we spoke, I thought maybe what I felt wasn't hate but only powerful dislike. So unforgiving I wouldn't be
Similar Books
