Marathon Man by Goldman William

Author:Goldman, William [Goldman, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction.Thriller/Suspense, Adapted into Film, Acclaimed.Thrillers 100 Must Reads
ISBN: 9780345439727
Google: mJpNPMAYXUgC
Amazon: 0345439724
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 1974-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

PART

III

PULP

19

“I’m not your friend,” Babe said, not even starting to make a move toward taking Janeway’s hand, just letting it hang there, awkwardly, in space.

“I know that, believe me. But it’s not important now. Only one thing is important and that’s this: You and I have got to talk.” He pulled his hand back, clearly embarrassed.

I should have shaken with him, Babe thought; it wouldn’t have killed me or anything, a quick shake, what the hell’s that, nothing. But even while his mind was working in that direction, his words were headed elsewhere. “Everything’s important with you, isn’t it? It’s ‘important’ that we hit it off, it’s ‘important’ that we talk. If you’ve got a list of other things that are going to be ‘important,’ I wish you’d tell me now.”

“And I wish you’d stop being difficult,” Janeway said.

“I haven’t started being difficult,” Babe replied, kind of liking the sound of his answer even as he spoke it. Bogart might have said something just like that. Not in any of the great ones like African Queen or Casablanca, but it was a decent-enough comeback for most of those crummy B pictures Warners was always sticking him in.

Janeway sighed. He mimed pouring a drink. “Do you have anything?”

Babe shrugged, nodded toward the sink area.

Janeway got up, found a bottle of red Burgundy, opened it quickly. “Want some?” he asked as he poured some wine into the closest remotely clean glass.

Babe shook his head, no, wondering why he was acting so crummy toward Janeway. He seemed a decent-enough guy, well-spoken, tactful. He reminded Babe of... Babe rooted around a moment before he had it: Gatsby—if Janeway would lose a couple years and let his hair grow, he’d be a ringer for Gatsby, and you love Gatsby, so why take it out on Janeway? It wasn’t Janeway, he realized then; it was the presence of Janeway that was so ruffling.

Because I need to be alone, Babe thought; I want my chance to mourn.

His mother he’d been too young to remember, and when it came H.V.’s turn, he and Doc had keened together. “I shoulda gone in sooner, Doc, I shoulda shown him the paper on wool.”

“Shut up, you don’t know anything, it was me, it was my fault, all of it my fault, that goddamn chem class.” And then they would go silent, because all their bickering wouldn’t make the old man move.

And now it was Doc done with moving, and Babe would have to be sure the event didn’t pass unnoticed. It didn’t matter so much if he shed tears. But they had laughed a lot together, and those times needed to be remembered.

Janeway downed the first glass of wine in a gulp, poured another, smaller portion. Then he came back to Babe, sat.

“Do you think you might try to be helpful?”

Babe said nothing.

“Look: I’m not about to get trapped into any wit-matching contest with any semi-genius historian, so if you want to prove you’re smarter than I am, you’ve proved it, that game’s over, I give, you win.

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