three high sweet voices singing flat. Mark noticed that George’s nails were bitten down to the quick. The cuticle was gnawed too. Bartenders were not usually nervous people.
‘If the girl’s dangerous,’ he thought suddenly, ‘this boy is ten times more dangerous.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘My wife’s obviously talked to you about me and she’s obviously in trouble. If you’re guarding her from something, fine, and I’m grateful. But you know it isn’t me she’s hiding from. You know she’ll want to see me.’
George did look up then. The blue eyes, fixed without expression on Mark’s face, were fanatic’s eyes. That was it, Mark thought. He’s hipped on something — Communism, stamp-collecting, building boats.
‘Oh yes, Mr Liddon, I know your wife would be crazy to see you.’
‘Then where is she?’
George smiled then — it was as unreal a smile as a smile on a scarecrow or a Hallowe’en pumpkin.
That’s the trouble. I’m very sorry, Mr Liddon, but I’m afraid you’ve just missed her. She flew to Guatemala this afternoon.
13
FRANKIE had finished her tequila. She had never taken her eyes from George’s face. Mark felt a stultifying weariness. If Ellie was in Guatemala, it was infinitely depressing. If this young man was lying, it was more so. Perhaps it was hunger, he thought, that brought on this apathy. He had hardly eaten since he had arrived in Mexico.
He said to Frankie: ‘Do they serve food here?’
‘If you don’t mind it hot.’
‘Anything.’
Frankie beckoned to the waiter and talked Spanish. The waiter went away. Mark looked across the table at George. It was desperately important to gauge whether or not this was a hoax; but his judgment seemed to have deserted him. He was too far from his base. Too many unlikely things had happened. He only knew there was danger. That didn’t clarify anything.
The waiter came back with some sliced hard rolls, ringed with raw onion and stuffed with some sort of chopped meat. Mark started to eat one and chili corroded the roof of his mouth like acid.
‘She flew to Guatemala this afternoon?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
The boy had high-angled cheekbones like the girl. He might almost have been her brother — her skinny twin brother burned up inside by some chili-like passion.
‘You’ve been in Venezuela, haven’t you, Mr Liddon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your wife wasn’t expecting you back till after Christmas?’
‘No.’
George picked up a little tin salt shaker and examined it with his devouring attention. ‘Mrs Liddon is flying through Guatemala to Caracas to meet you.’
Guatemala and now Venezuela. An image came of Ellie as a tiny figure dwindling, dwindling in space. The food had made him stronger but not strong enough to cope with this constant shift.
‘Why, if she was going to meet me in Venezuela, did she make this trip to Mexico?’
George looked up again. His face was well made. Women who liked that intense type might find him attractive. ‘I only know what your wife told me. It may not be the whole truth. After all, I was just a stranger — someone behind a bar.’
‘A big-hearted Harry.’
He had said that condescendingly. George flushed, the blood showing crimson under the thin white skin. He’s touchy too, Mark thought. He doesn’t like me because I’m bigger. Certainly he’s taken a weight-lifting course.
‘Mrs Liddon said she’d run up big gambling debts in New York. She couldn’t cover them. She tried to raise the money and failed. The outfit she owed the money to started to get tough. She was scared they’d hurt her so she took off for Mexico. She thought she’d be safe here, but some friend called her from New York to tell her the outfit was sending a gunman after her. She’d just heard this before she came to the bar. She was pretty frantic. I guess that’s why she spilled it all to me. She said the only place she’d be safe was with her husband. She said she’d booked a passage
‘If the girl’s dangerous,’ he thought suddenly, ‘this boy is ten times more dangerous.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘My wife’s obviously talked to you about me and she’s obviously in trouble. If you’re guarding her from something, fine, and I’m grateful. But you know it isn’t me she’s hiding from. You know she’ll want to see me.’
George did look up then. The blue eyes, fixed without expression on Mark’s face, were fanatic’s eyes. That was it, Mark thought. He’s hipped on something — Communism, stamp-collecting, building boats.
‘Oh yes, Mr Liddon, I know your wife would be crazy to see you.’
‘Then where is she?’
George smiled then — it was as unreal a smile as a smile on a scarecrow or a Hallowe’en pumpkin.
That’s the trouble. I’m very sorry, Mr Liddon, but I’m afraid you’ve just missed her. She flew to Guatemala this afternoon.
13
FRANKIE had finished her tequila. She had never taken her eyes from George’s face. Mark felt a stultifying weariness. If Ellie was in Guatemala, it was infinitely depressing. If this young man was lying, it was more so. Perhaps it was hunger, he thought, that brought on this apathy. He had hardly eaten since he had arrived in Mexico.
He said to Frankie: ‘Do they serve food here?’
‘If you don’t mind it hot.’
‘Anything.’
Frankie beckoned to the waiter and talked Spanish. The waiter went away. Mark looked across the table at George. It was desperately important to gauge whether or not this was a hoax; but his judgment seemed to have deserted him. He was too far from his base. Too many unlikely things had happened. He only knew there was danger. That didn’t clarify anything.
The waiter came back with some sliced hard rolls, ringed with raw onion and stuffed with some sort of chopped meat. Mark started to eat one and chili corroded the roof of his mouth like acid.
‘She flew to Guatemala this afternoon?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
The boy had high-angled cheekbones like the girl. He might almost have been her brother — her skinny twin brother burned up inside by some chili-like passion.
‘You’ve been in Venezuela, haven’t you, Mr Liddon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your wife wasn’t expecting you back till after Christmas?’
‘No.’
George picked up a little tin salt shaker and examined it with his devouring attention. ‘Mrs Liddon is flying through Guatemala to Caracas to meet you.’
Guatemala and now Venezuela. An image came of Ellie as a tiny figure dwindling, dwindling in space. The food had made him stronger but not strong enough to cope with this constant shift.
‘Why, if she was going to meet me in Venezuela, did she make this trip to Mexico?’
George looked up again. His face was well made. Women who liked that intense type might find him attractive. ‘I only know what your wife told me. It may not be the whole truth. After all, I was just a stranger — someone behind a bar.’
‘A big-hearted Harry.’
He had said that condescendingly. George flushed, the blood showing crimson under the thin white skin. He’s touchy too, Mark thought. He doesn’t like me because I’m bigger. Certainly he’s taken a weight-lifting course.
‘Mrs Liddon said she’d run up big gambling debts in New York. She couldn’t cover them. She tried to raise the money and failed. The outfit she owed the money to started to get tough. She was scared they’d hurt her so she took off for Mexico. She thought she’d be safe here, but some friend called her from New York to tell her the outfit was sending a gunman after her. She’d just heard this before she came to the bar. She was pretty frantic. I guess that’s why she spilled it all to me. She said the only place she’d be safe was with her husband. She said she’d booked a passage
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