Уильям Макгиверн - Summitt

She took off her glasses and with the sun on her tanned face, her eyes were strikingly blue and clear. “Do you want to hear all the details, Simon? I don’t mind, but I never know for sure what you want. This is the first time you’ve asked me to—” She shrugged. “Well, it’s up to you. You wanted me to keep him distracted and involved...”

Correll smiled. “Listen to me, Jennifer. If you’re asking if I’m jealous, of course I am. If that pleases you, so much the better. I would have preferred to do this some other way. As you point out, it was the first time and it will be the last. But since it’s done, we might as well get to the point. What happened between you and Jarrell Selby isn’t the point, although I can well believe he found you attractive. You must have been an entertaining and fascinating surprise, the stuff of lonely soldiers’ dreams, the fantasy sex adventure in the middle of an air raid. I’m sure he attended you with care, poured wine for you, sang your praises and then went about fucking you with enthusiasm.”

She clearly didn’t like this; her full lower lip flattened slightly and gave an aggressive cast to her expression.

She said, “Well, if it’s not important, there’s no point in writing a scenario about it, is there? But it wasn’t like you described it. He did offer me some wine, as a matter of fact. And he told me I was beautiful, that’s true. But sleeping with him was—” She shrugged again, pausing for words. “It was comfortable, and that’s about all, but I liked him for being... gentle and, well, sort of unsure.”

Correll said, “Let’s leave that. Jarrell’s reaction to his half brother is what concerns me. I want every detail you can remember.”

“Okay. Jarrell seemed confused or frightened at first. Maybe a little of both.”

And then she told Correll about the first meeting between the brothers, the lunch at the Summitt commissary that same day, and the party in the evening at Jarrell’s with Sergeant Ledge and his wife (“healthy cow-eyes”), the Stoltzers, Froelich Nash and the others. She emphasized that Harry Selby and his brother were alone for only a few minutes that night. Which was the desired result of her efforts. That’s what she reported, and Correll liked what she had to say. She knew he would...

“Stoltzer and Ledge pumped me casually about where I’d met Jarrell, how long I planned to stay at Summitt and so on. But I did what you said. I explained I had to leave on Friday night at the latest, and that cooled it... I’m not particularly maternal, I don’t collect wet kittens or broken-winged creatures, but after the party was over and everyone had gone Jarrell was so miserable that it bothered me some. He wouldn’t tell me why. He just seemed very frustrated, and nervous. When his brother called from the motel, Jarrell told me to tell him that he was asleep.

“I don’t know when I got him to bed, but I could feel it in his body, like a fever. He lay there for what seemed like hours, staring at the ceiling. He wouldn’t make love to me. Suddenly he jumped up and put on his clothes. He was so upset that I could hardly understand him. He said he was in danger, that he had to leave, that it wasn’t safe for me to be with him.”

“What time was this?”

“Four-thirty, maybe five. It was still dark. I tried to keep him from going but he said he had to get to his brother, to talk to him. He left by the patio door. The last I saw of him he was walking toward the lake area. Running. I figured he knew a shortcut to the parking lots. Sergeant Ledge called, about a half hour later. Then Stoltzer called to find out if Jarrell had told me where he was going.”

Correll was studying the Snow Virgins.

“How did Harry Selby strike you? Tell me about him.”

She hesitated a moment, then picked up a cigarette. “I’m not sure. He’s a man, very manly looking. We weren’t alone very long but I talked too much, I’m afraid. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was nervous. He didn’t talk much. So I guess he knows more about me than I know about him.”

“That tells me considerable about him.”

“Well, I’m not trying to hold back anything. I’m trying to tell you what I felt about him, what kind of man he is.” She lit her cigarette and snapped the lighter shut. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, please go on.”

“Well then, if I had to use one word about Harry Selby, I would say he’s ready . That’s what impressed me when I first met him, that he would be ready for just about whatever might happen. Not that he was expecting anything in particular, but he made me feel that I’d better be careful. As a woman I’ll tell you what that means. If I wanted him, he’d be ready. Not necessarily excited, maybe not even interested, but he would be ready.”

A red light blinked on Correll’s phone console. “Thank you, Jennifer. We’ll lunch together, if you like.”

When she left the study he watched the sunlight shift in streaks across her brown shoulders, then put the tips of his fingers to his temples and exerted a steady pressure. His muscles felt coiled like tight springs. The smoky black glasses Jennifer wore created an unwelcome image of his mother, reminding him of her black shawls and unrevealing eyes. He picked up a Snow Virgin and tipped it back and forth, grateful for these distractions — the snowflakes, the beads of tiny seed pearls on his mother’s shawls — because he now faced a decision of significant and dangerous consequences, and once he’d made that commitment there could be no turning back from it.

Virtue, however you defined it, was irrelevant in evil times, he thought with gloomy satisfaction, which was probably why tyrants generally took care to make sure their times were as evil as they could make them. They knew the frustration of moderation, and would risk anything to escape the burden of tolerance.

“Yes, Mr. Correll?” George Thomson’s voice was alert and expectant.

“Thomson, I’ve advised you now and then not to underestimate me. I’ve also told you not to overestimate me. I depend on you people for information. But for the past eighteen hours you haven’t put us in the picture about Harry Selby’s daughter. The information I have comes from a fragmentary police report our people picked up in Philadelphia.” This was a deliberate untruth; Correll’s source had been a deputy inspector in Philadelphia. “But I want a report now, Thomson. What exactly happened?”

After Thomson answered, Correll said, “All this seems highly coincidental. To be as plain as possible, was there a causal relationship? Did someone working for you have anything to do with what happened to the Selby girl?”

“No, sir. I’ve checked that personally. The police have kept me up to date. We’re not implicated in any way.”

Correll glanced at the stretch of river beyond his study, the waters shadowed and dappled by swaying trees.

Picking up a Snow Virgin, he watched the flakes floating around the blue statue, then said, “Thomson, this won’t change our plans. Call General Taggart now and tell him that.”

It took Selby almost a week to find something that related to the word “waves.” He had spent most of that time driving around the countryside looking for clues or leads to what Shana could have meant by “waves” or “screaming birds” or “tunnels” or “hornets.”

In the afternoon he picked up Davey at school and they searched until dusk, Davey watching the fields and roads with a map on his knees.

Selby had called Summitt City twice, but Clem Stoltzer had no news of Jarrell. But he had promised to keep in touch and let Selby know when and if he heard from his brother.