Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“Come now, you have to admit that. You also have a nice face. Not model-beautiful like that dreamy man’s before, and a nice gleam to your eyes. I bet you were a beautiful baby. So let’s get into the cab and go to a real nice pub. Sardi’s, even. I love that joint. That it still exists for one thing: everything authentic today folds. Oh, overrated caricatures on the walls to spoil your appetite, but it’s the perpetual stimulating overheard talk, and because of its dress code, all those gorgeous clothes. I can get us a quiet table where nobody can see us or a noisy one where everybody can and join in if you wish. So it’s what pleases you, Dennis, you. I only want to please you tonight, so is it quiet or noise?”

“No tables. I don’t want to go with you.”

“Please, don’t all of a sudden get rude.”

“Scuse me, scuse me,” the cabby says.

“I’m not. But if I can’t convince you any other way?”

“All the very best drinks you want on me then — food too. Anything you want. You call it. Money, even.”

“No really, thanks.”

“I wasn’t serious about the money, of course. Took a chance saying it, but I was only seeing how you’d behave. You came off with flying colors, as I knew you would. My instincts about you were right from the start. One thing though. Yes, I think I can say it. I’m serious about wanting you to come with me and I know, beyond that hard facade, who you truly are.”

“I can’t stand here longer,” the cabby says.

“I’m sure you do, but thanks, no.”

“Ah darn. Your one fault was you were always too immovable. So I’ll be on my way.” He walks to the cab. “On my way, I won’t say goodnight, Dennis.”

I nod.

“Ah darn.” Gets in cab, is looking at me through the rear window as the cab takes off. It stops at the corner for the light. He sticks his head out the window opposite the smashed car. “I can still get out, Dennis — What’s this, your devilish business? Or you can still join me. Or the 21. First floor by the door. Elegant Nick to admit us and from then on even if you go there alone, to greet you by your family name, whatever yours is. You haven’t lived till you’ve tasted their bourguignon. They know me there as well, and it’s where I’ve changed course to. I’m a director.”

I shake my head.

“Whuh? Can’t hear ya. Harold. Harold Drissac and the Barclay Hotel. I’ll be there till check-out time Sunday morn. Phone.”

I wave, he waves, cab goes. I walk back half a block — that’ll be enough time for anyone around the smashed car to forget me — look at the traffic, buildings across the street, sky, put my collar up and walk slowly to the car. Must have been smashed by the bus or smashed into the front of the bus, as the front of the bus farther up the street’s also smashed but not as hard. When I saw the bus from the distance I thought it was just doubleparked.

“For the last time — step back?” a policeman says. The three of us step back. “All the way to the sidewalk again?” Sidewalk. Phone on the corner rings. He’s standing beside the booth and answers it. “Wohlen…Hey, hi, how’s it going, last person I expected was…Sure, what?…Ha, no, I…I gave the number for here…Now that’s a good question. After talking to you for ten seconds when it seems like ten years since we — okay, okay. Let’s see. You could hear it’s a street, but exactly where? Fourteenth and Sixth, northwest corner, last — now this is going to be harder. Minus thirty-four from one — six, twenty — we’ll forget the seconds. Seven times sixty plus that twenty-six. Three hundred — No. The last almost seven and a half hours of my midnight to eight shift. That’s putting it exactly enough. My two-way’s not operating, which I’m now glad of because you called…How? Tell me.”