How to Game People Without Even Trying by Elizabeth Cooke

Author:Elizabeth Cooke [Cooke, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480821057
Publisher: Archway Publishing
Published: 2015-08-27T04:00:00+00:00

Christmas Dawn, 1979

Chapter Seventeen

Another day, another bed, this time, her father’s. Sara was curled up on the puffy pillows of the raised king-size ‘work-bench’ (as Saul referred to it). She dozed off as she awaited his return from Moscow. The past twenty-four hours with Denys Déols had been a respite from her conflicted thoughts. The two had returned to Paris Christmas Eve, driving slowly, saying little.

He had taken her to an early dinner on the Left Bank near St. Germain, at La Cave, a restaurant below street level. It was a series of tiny rooms, meeting places with old brick walls, for assignations, all in a circle like she imagined a brothel to be. Over roast chicken and a beautiful sorbet, Sara’s anxiety over her father returned.

“Just being back in Paris,” she said wistfully

“What?” he said.

“I guess my father will return from Moscow late tonight,” she said tentatively. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.”

“Yes? He’ll be back?” Denys sounded expectant.

“Don’t sound so eager,” she said. “I can’t help worrying if his world will be quivering yet again on the edge of disaster.”

When she returned to number 17, Claus greeted her with a smirk. He told her that Saul had called earlier. “Tell the kid I’m on my way,” the German said, the guttural accent pronounced.

Now, on her father’s bed, she was working on still another drawing of Saul Mammon’s face. It wasn’t perfect but she was proud he looked so imposing. He would like that.

Claus left the apartment to meet Saul Mammon at the Aeroflot plane at midnight in the limousine, apparently dropping off Renata at her favorite discotheque on his way to the airport. She had chosen to continue her usual round, rather than meet the plane and the man who kept her. Sara was alone at number 17. Her head nodded against the headboard.

Saul Mammon finally came through the bedroom door with Claus in tow with the suitcase. It was 2:00 AM. He did not notice his daughter on his bed. As he strode into the room, Sara heard him mumble, “Christ. This trip I really think they tried to poison me.” He took off his tie, after removing the tie tack, placing both on the desk, as Claus busied himself with the suitcase. Claus put it open on its rack and cracked the French door beside the desk letting in the cool, rainy night air

“Get me some hot tea.”

“You feel queasy, Herr Mammon?”

“Monsieur Mammon to you, Claus. And don’t get cute with me. Berlin is just dying to know your whereabouts.”

Claus left the room hurriedly, his face sullen. Her father had his back to the room, leaning over his desk, opening the dispatch case he had set upon it. Suddenly his body sagged. He turned as she rose from the bed. It was then he noticed her.

“Hey, kid,” His face was pale under the swarthy skin.

“You okay?” She was alarmed.

“Sure. He straightened up, as if stung. “Why not?”

He removed his jacket in jerky motions, kicked off his shoes, and started unpacking distractedly.

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