Пол Боулз - Let it come down

«We go spick you friend in bar. He got».

«No. You got enough now. That’s damn good money for what you did».

«Next time I fix» —

«I know! I know!»

They argued. It astonished Eunice to hear an American refusing to part with an extra fifty pesetas under such circumstances. Typically, she decided he must be an extremely vicious man, one who got his true pleasure from just such scenes, to whom it gave a thrill of evil delight to withhold her due from a helpless girl. But it amused her to observe the vigor with which Hadija pursued the discussion. She bet herself drinks for the house that the girl would get the extra money. And after a good deal of pointless talk he agreed to borrow the sum from the friend in the bar. As they opened the door and went out Hadija said: «You good man. I like». Eunice bit her lip and stood up. More than anything else, that remark made her feel that she was right in suspecting this man of being a particular danger. And now she realized that it was not the possibility of professional relationships on Hadija’s part that distressed her most. It was precisely the fear that things might not remain on that footing. «But I’m an idiot,» she told herself. «Why this man? the very first one I happen to have caught her with?» The important thing was that it be the last; she must take her away. And Madame Papaconstante must not know of it until they were out of the International Zone.

A quarter of an hour later she went out into the hallway; it was gray with the feeble light of dawn which came through the curtain of beads from the bar. There she heard Madame Papaconstante and Hadija arguing bitterly. «You let me go into the very next room!» Hadija was shouting. «You knew she was in there! You wanted her to hear!»

«It’s not my fault she woke up!» cried Madame Papaconstante furiously. «Who do you think you are, yelling at me in my own bar!»

Eunice waited, hoping Madame Papaconstante would go further, say something more drastic, but she remained cautious, obviously not wishing to provoke the girl too deeply — she brought money into the establishment.

Eunice walked quietly down the passageway and stepped into the bar, blinking a little. Her cane was lying across one of the tables. The two ceased speaking and looked at her. She picked up the cane, turned to face them. «Drinks for the house,» she remembered. «Three double gins,» she said to Madame Papaconstante, who went without a word behind the bar and poured them out.

«Take it,» she said to Hadija, holding one of the glasses toward her. With her eyes on Eunice, she obeyed.

«Drink it».

Hadija did, choking afterward.

Madame Papaconstante hesitated and drank hers, still without speaking.

Eunice placed five hundred pesetas on the bar, and said: « Bonne nuit, madame ». To Hadija she said: « Ven ».

Madame Papaconstante stood looking after them as they walked slowly up the street. A large brown rat crept from a doorway opposite and began to make its way along the gutter in the other direction, stopping to sample bits of refuse as it went. The rain fell evenly and quietly.

Wilcox sat on the edge of his bed in his bathrobe. Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers was concentrating his attention upon opening a new tin of Gold Flakes; a faint hiss came out as he punctured the top. Rapidly he cut around the edge and removed the light tin disc, which he dropped on the floor beside his table.

«Have one?» he said to Wilcox, holding up the tin to him. The odor of the fresh tobacco was irresistible. Wilcox took a cigarette. Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers did likewise. When both had lights, Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers went on with what he had been saying.

«My dear boy, I don’t want to seem to be asking the impossible, and I think if you try to look at it from my point of view you’ll see soon enough that actually I’m only asking the inevitable. I expect you knew that sooner or later I should require to move sterling here».

Wilcox looked uncomfortable. He ran his finger along the edge of the ash tray. «Well, yes. I’m not surprised,» he said. Before the other could speak again he went on. «But if you’ll excuse my saying so, I can’t help feeling you’ve chosen a rather crude method of getting it here».

Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers smiled. «Yes. If you like, it’s crude. I don’t think that militates against its success in any way».

«I wonder,» said Wilcox.

«Why should it?»

«Well, it’s too large a sum to bring in that way».

«Nonsense!» Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers cried. «Don’t be bound by tradition, my boy. That’s simply superstitious of you. If one can do it that way with a small amount, one can do it in exactly the same way with a larger one. Can’t you see how safe it is? There’s nothing whatever in writing, is there? The number of agents is reduced to a minimum — all I need to be sure of is old Ramlal, his son and you».

«And all I need to be sure of is that nobody knows it when I go to Ramlal and take out nine thousand pounds in cash. That includes our British currency snoopers as well as the Larbi crowd. And I’d say it’s impossible. They’re bound to know. Somebody’s bound to find out».

«Nonsense,» said Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers again. «If you’re afraid for your own skin,» he smiled ingratiatingly, fearing that he might be treading on delicate ground, «and you’ve every right to be, of course, why — send someone else to fetch it. You must have someone around you can trust for a half hour».

«Not a soul,» said Wilcox. He had just thought of Dyar. «Let’s have some lunch. We can have it right here in the room. They have some good roast beef downstairs, or had yesterday». He reached for the telephone.

«Afraid I can’t». Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers was half expecting Wilcox to raise his percentage, and he did not want to do anything which might help put him sufficiently at his ease to make him broach the subject.

«Sure?» said Wilcox. «No, I can’t,» repeated Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers.

Wilcox took up the telephone. «A whiskey?» He lifted the receiver.

«Oh, I think not, thank you».

«Of course you will,» said Wilcox. «Give me the bar».

Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers rose and stood looking out the window. The wet town below looked freshly built; the harbor and the sky beyond it were a uniform gray. It was raining indifferently. Wilcox was saying: «Manolo? Haig and Haig Pinch, two Perriers and ice for Two Forty Six». He hung up, and in the same breath went on: «I can do it, but I’ll need another two percent».

«Oh, come,» said Mr. Ashcombe-Danvers patiently, «I’ve been waiting for you to put it up. But I must say I didn’t expect a two percent increase. That’s a bit thick. Ramlal ten, and now you want seven».

«A bit thick? I don’t think so,» said Wilcox. «And I don’t think you’ll think so when you have your nine thousand safely in the Crédit Foncier. It’s all very well for you to keep telling me how easy it is. You’ll be safe in Paris» —

«My dear boy, you probably will think I’m exaggerating when I say I can think of six persons at this moment who I know would be delighted to do it for three percent».

Wilcox laughed. «Perfectly true. I can think of plenty who’d do it for one percent, too, if it comes to that. But you won’t use them». To himself he was saying that Dyar was the ideal one to use in this connection: he was quite unknown in the town, his innocence of the nature of the transaction was a great advantage, and he could be given the errand as a casual part of his daily work and thus would not have to be paid any commission at all; the entire seven percent could be kept intact. «You’ll have to meet the man I have in mind, of course, and take him around to young Ramlal yourself. He’s an American».