Гарольд Роббинс - The Raiders

Her stepmother arranged to meet her in Washington during the spring break of her junior year, to take her around and introduce her to senators and congressmen. She also took her to the offices of The Washington Post , where she introduced her to the publisher and editors. In their hotel room, Morgana and Toni talked about what she would do after she graduated. Was there a marriage in sight? No. Was she interested in government? Yes. Did she like Washington? Yes. Well then — maybe she could come to Washington as a congressional aide. Morgana would inquire around.

For the fall semester of her senior year she enrolled in a class at Harvard in abnormal psychology, just to round out her education, just because it was something she thought she ought to know something about. It was an eight-o'clock class, and people came in carrying paper cups of coffee, smoking their first morning cigarettes. Toni put her coffee on the writing arm of her chair and snapped her Zippo to light a cigarette. She was wearing blue jeans rolled up to mid-calf and a man's white shirt, tail out and collar open, also brown-and-white saddle shoes with white cotton socks. Of the eight young women in the class, only two were dressed otherwise than in this uniform.

By his first words the professor announced that smoking would be allowed in his classroom only so long as the weather permitted them to keep the windows open. After that, no smoking would be the rule.

"Why wait till then?" asked a voice from behind Toni.

She turned around and saw a tall, handsome man, looking at her with intimidating bright-blue eyes. He too wore a white shirt, but his shirttail was tucked into khaki corduroy pants. She had meant to look at him defiantly, maybe even to blow smoke in his face; but she decided not to. They stared at each other with eyes equally steady. He was smiling faintly, very faintly.

"I like the idea, Mr. —"

"Batista."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Batista. I like your idea, but I guess we'll stick with my original plan, to postpone the onset of nicotine fits."

Toni had heard of Jonas Cord y Batista, who was nicknamed Bat. He was known in Cambridge. The story about him was that he was an illegitimate son of the rapacious tycoon Jonas Cord and was somehow related to the former and perhaps future president of Cuba, Fulgencio Batista. He was of course one of the returning GIs, and the rest of the story about him said that he had been wounded and decorated. He had been in Cambridge for a whole year, but this was the first time she had seen him.

She stopped outside the classroom later and said to him, "I hope my smoke didn't drift up your nose."

"I hope my suggestion didn't spoil your pleasure," he said dryly.

She grinned. "I'm Antonia Maxim, and I'm usually called Toni."

"I'm usually called Bat," he said. "Because a lot of people are uneasy with my name — which is Jonas. Do you have a nine-o'clock?"

"No."

"Neither do I. Let's go across the street and have some doughnuts."

Two nights later he took her to dinner and a movie.

Two months later word circulated among her friends and his that Toni Maxim and Bat Batista were in love and planned to be married. Some noted scornfully that she had stopped smoking and wearing blue jeans with her shirttail out.

When his mother, Señora Sonja Escalante, came to Boston for one of the only two visits she would make to the States to see her son while he was at Harvard, she stayed at the Copley; and Toni Maxim was her guest for dinner two of the five nights she was in town.

Some other friends could not imagine Toni could fall in love with Jonas Cord y Batista. Oh yes, he was handsome, and apparently he was rich, but he was a queer duck. He took courses that had no apparent aim — lots of history and government, some economics, chemistry, physics, psychology, philosophy, literature, and art. He was seen on the Yard during the day, sometimes in the library at night, but he lived as far away as Lexington, as though he made a conscious effort not to associate himself with the college any more than necessary. He didn't seem to care about much of anything — about anything, that is, that other people cared about. He didn't go to football games. He didn't go down to the river to watch the rowing. It was as if he went out of his way to make it clear he was not in awe of Harvard and didn't think himself privileged to have been admitted.

Toni shrugged at this talk. So? A lot of the returning GIs were like that. They had seen too much, experienced too much, to go rah-rah at football games. So far as being admitted to the college was concerned, Bat was an outstanding student. So far as she was concerned, if he was privileged to be at Harvard, Harvard was privileged to have him.

She had met his mother but not his father. He told her, finally, that he'd never met his father and wasn't sure he wanted to. Mexico City and Cordoba were too far away for him to go home often. He had gone last summer, but would not go home for Christmas. He accepted her family's invitation to spend Christmas with them in Florida.

Dr. Maxim was not pleased to have his daughter talking about marrying the illegitimate son of Jonas Cord but was reconciled to the idea after he watched Bat land a big tarpon. The young man had fished from a boat out of Vera Cruz and was experienced and skilled at fighting a big fish. What was more, he passed a test put to him by Dr. Maxim — he backed Maxim's smoothly into its slip, steering with its twin screws more than its rudder. The doctor was prepared to accept him after watching him do that.

Morgana liked him better after several evenings of dinner and after-dinner conversation. When he said he thought President Truman might be reelected — and backed his judgment with reasons — she decided she liked him very well indeed.

When Toni and Bat caught the train to return to Boston, the Maxims did not comment on the obvious fact that they would be sharing a roomette. They were in fact traveling as Mr. and Mrs. J. Batista, as their luggage tags indicated — because railroads in 1947 would not allow an unmarried couple to share a roomette.

"They like you," Toni said as she waved at her parents through the window.

"I tried," he said.

"Well, they do like you," she said. "They do. They've bought the idea of our marriage. Not one hundred percent, but ... no parents ever accept one hundred percent the marriage of a son or daughter to some stranger they did not choose. Of course" — she grinned wickedly — "if they knew I go down on you, they'd kill you."

"We should just go ahead and marry," he said. "Then we could live together."

"Soon ..." she whispered, glancing one more time at her parents on the platform as the train pulled away. "We have to let them give me a wedding."

Toni could not move in with him in his apartment in Lexington, but she spent hours there almost every day. She spent as little time as possible in her college living quarters — only from 1 a.m. to dawn, as the rules demanded. She kept most of her clothes in Lexington, most of her books, and her two portable typewriters.

She had two portable typewriters because she had one that typed Greek characters. During her senior year she wrote a thesis for a class in public ethics, in Greek. She won the award for the best senior thesis of the year. The title was Δεμοκρατια εσχατη τυραννις , a quotation from Plato that translates "Democracy passes into despotism."

Bat was proud of her. Dave made him prouder by marveling over her Greek typewriter and her Greek thesis. Dave encouraged Bat to go to law school, and Toni joined in that. It would be a fine career for him. Besides, he needed focus. He had been thinking of law school anyway. His mother, too, urged it. He applied for the fall class in 1948 and was admitted. So far as Bat was concerned, everything was settled.