Читаем Los Alamos полностью

“Emma,” he said, coming over to the booth. “My God, you look a treat.” He continued to stand for a second, and Connolly imagined him awkward, staring at her. “What do I do? Do I kiss you?”

Connolly heard no response, but she must have nodded, because there was a rustle of clothing as he bent over, then took a seat in the booth. Connolly leaned into the wall, picking up the receiver and hiding it against his ear, his crossword pencil lifted to write.

“I can’t believe it,” Lawson said, his voice still English and hurried, enthusiastic. “All this time. You turning up like this.”

“The bad penny,” Emma said.

“No, it’s marvelous. But what are you doing here? How long have you been in the States? How did-where to begin? Tell me everything.” His words rushed out, happily infectious, with the guileless wonder of meeting an old school friend.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“My God, look at you,” he said again, and Connolly felt him lean back against the booth to take her in.

“You’re the same,” she said, an appraisal, but he took it for a compliment.

“Well, the hair,” he said, evidently brushing it back at the temple. “I expect it’ll all go one day. But you-I can’t get over it. How’s your family?”

“My family?” she said, disconcerted. “They’re fine. I haven’t seen them in years. I’m living here now. I’m married.”

“Married?”

“Matthew, I divorced you years ago,” she said smoothly. “Surely you knew?”

“No.”

“You weren’t there to contest it. You wouldn’t have, would you?”

He was silent for a minute. “How could I? Look, I never explained-”

“Darling, don’t. Really. It was all a very long time ago, and it doesn’t matter now. I haven’t come for that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We haven’t much time. I need to talk to you. We can save all those happy days unter den linden for another time.”

“You’re still angry with me.”

“I’m not really,” she said softly. “I was. Well, I don’t know what I was-not angry. But that was a lifetime ago. Before the war. We were just children, weren’t we? Anyway, never mind. We’d better order.”

Connolly looked up, surprised to see Tony standing at the next booth. They ordered sandwiches.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it?” Matthew said when he’d gone. “We had fun. In the beginning. God, your father-”

His voice was bright again, and Connolly thought he could hear the mischief of those years, the delight in provoking. Is this what she’d liked, the way he thumbed his nose at the world?

“You were the most marvelous girl,” he said.

“I’m still pretty marvelous. What about you?”

“Me?”

“Still working with the comrades?”

“Of course.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“I work on the paper. It’s quite good, actually. There was a falling off after the Pact-reporters jumping ship, you know. But of course the war changed all that. Shoulders together. Now, well, we’ll see.”

“You mean to stay, then?”

“If I can. We’re not exactly Uncle Sam’s favorite publication, but we’re still in business. Browder’s worked miracles. Anyway, this is the place now. Politically, it’s all a bit like your Uncle Arthur, but everything will change after the war. It has to. The pressures will be enormous.”

He stopped as the plates were put in front of them.

“You are the same,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Still on the march.”

“I can’t help that,” he said, catching her tone. “It still needs doing. I grant you, it’s not Spain,” he said, reminiscent again. “It’s a different sort of fight, but as you say, we’re not young anymore.”

“I never said that. I said I was still marvelous.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice lingering. “But married. Who did you marry, by the way? Someone here?”

“A scientist. No one you know. Matthew,” she said, pausing, “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“No, don’t say that till you hear what it is. Something important.”

“Is that why you looked me up?”

“Yes.”

“Funny. I thought it might be-I don’t know, about us.”

“What, after all this time?”

He didn’t answer.

“There’s nothing about us. Do you understand? I want to be quite clear about that.”

“Why, then?”

“I need somebody I can trust. Or maybe it’s the other way around, somebody who’ll trust me. Who knows me.”

Connolly cupped the receiver closer to his ear, feeling literally like a fly on the wall. The approach, smooth and plausible, was all hers.

“I don’t understand. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“No, not exactly. We all are, in a way. That’s the point. God, this is complicated. I’m not quite sure where to begin. It’ll seem fantastic to you. It is fantastic. Sometimes I don’t quite believe it myself.”

“Emma, what are you talking about?”

“Right,” she said, verbally sitting up. “Here goes. It won’t make sense, but hear me out. Do you have a cigarette?”

“You smoke now?”

“Oh yes, I’m all grown up.” Connolly heard the match strike. “That’s better. My husband is a scientist.”

“You said.”

“A physicist. Working for the government. We’re at an army base out west.”

“Where?”