Abel Baker Charley (14 page)
“Janet's here. She's working the darkroom.”
“How would you like to be a Sixth Avenue hooker for a
few hours?”
few hours?”
I’
m getting just a bit long in the tooth for that sort of
thing, Connor. But if it's dark enough, a dollar is a dollar.”
m getting just a bit long in the tooth for that sort of
thing, Connor. But if it's dark enough, a dollar is a dollar.”
“Sorry, Katy. No actual partying, unless of course you should come upon a fine-looking Irishman sitting in an
Oldsmobile.” He smiled. “Otherwise, what I want you to do
is patrol Sixth Avenue from the Warwick to the park. If Levy
moves in this direction, I want to know that. Bring a trans
ceiver.”
Oldsmobile.” He smiled. “Otherwise, what I want you to do
is patrol Sixth Avenue from the Warwick to the park. If Levy
moves in this direction, I want to know that. Bring a trans
ceiver.”
“Sure, Connor. Anything else?”
“Now that you ask . . .” Harrigan pulled a Kleenex from the visor and wiped the brown dampness from the inside of
the windshield. “If you see an opportunity, Katy, and you
can do it neatly, I'd like you to kill Mr. Levy and leave him
in a doorway.”
the windshield. “If you see an opportunity, Katy, and you
can do it neatly, I'd like you to kill Mr. Levy and leave him
in a doorway.”
“I'll bring something quiet.”
“Be well, Katy love.”
Harrigan put the phone on its hook. “Remember what Thoreau said, Mr. Baker? He said, * Simplify. Always sim
plify.’ ”
plify.’ ”
She lay pressed against him. Her head and one arm upon his chest. Neither had moved since the light switched off. Neither
slept. She was not afraid while they were touching. She felt
warm and safe and cared about, and the night stayed far away.
Now and then she felt him shudder and each time sink more
deeply into the quilted bed. It was as if a hurt was being slowly
drained away. She was glad. Someday, she thought, they'd make love. They would. Away from here and on a different
night. And they'd be able to see tomorrow. And next week.
slept. She was not afraid while they were touching. She felt
warm and safe and cared about, and the night stayed far away.
Now and then she felt him shudder and each time sink more
deeply into the quilted bed. It was as if a hurt was being slowly
drained away. She was glad. Someday, she thought, they'd make love. They would. Away from here and on a different
night. And they'd be able to see tomorrow. And next week.
“Peter?”
“Yes, lovely lady.”
“Do you ski?”
“Not in your league, but yes.”
“Suppose everything else were to work out. Would you go skiing with me someday?”
“How does Sun Valley sound?” he asked dreamily. “Or
maybe Klosters. I hear there are parts of the Swiss Alps where you can ski for twenty miles.” She answered with a
purring sound.
“But how about you, Peter? What are your special
things?”
maybe Klosters. I hear there are parts of the Swiss Alps where you can ski for twenty miles.” She answered with a
purring sound.
“But how about you, Peter? What are your special
things?”
“Oh, I like to sail,” he said. “Especially racing one de
signs, but I haven't in a while. I play some racquetball to
stay in shape, and otherwise the things I like are pretty sim
ple. Walking in the snow, tailgating at football games, and I . . .” He almost said “paint.” That would have been too
close. He knew that he shouldn't have mentioned sailing ei
ther. “How about yourself?”
signs, but I haven't in a while. I play some racquetball to
stay in shape, and otherwise the things I like are pretty sim
ple. Walking in the snow, tailgating at football games, and I . . .” He almost said “paint.” That would have been too
close. He knew that he shouldn't have mentioned sailing ei
ther. “How about yourself?”
”I have a boat,” she answered brightly. “It's a little J-24 that I bought from an actor who moved East. He taught me to sail
,
kind of. Not enough to race. She's my get-away-and-
be-quiet machine, even if all I do is sleep on her and listen
to the wind. Her name is
Lady Liz.
99
,
kind of. Not enough to race. She's my get-away-and-
be-quiet machine, even if all I do is sleep on her and listen
to the wind. Her name is
Lady Liz.
99
“Liz?”
“It's my first name. Elizabeth Tanner Burke. My parents
call me that. And most of the kids I grew up with in Boul
der.”
call me that. And most of the kids I grew up with in Boul
der.”
“Liz,” he repeated, nodding. “It suits you. Tanner isn't quite as soft. But I guess Tanner is a better name for an ac
tress.”
tress.”
“There's that, I guess.” She yawned. “But I used Tanner
on ski race rosters since I was five. Tanner's my mother's
maiden name. Beth Tanner. She was a pretty hot downhiller
and I wanted to keep up a tradition.” She squeezed him. “Say 'Liz' again.”
on ski race rosters since I was five. Tanner's my mother's
maiden name. Beth Tanner. She was a pretty hot downhiller
and I wanted to keep up a tradition.” She squeezed him. “Say 'Liz' again.”
“Liz. Liz Burke.” Baker, too, listened to the sound.
”I like the way you say it.” She lifted her head to see the
blur of his face. “What about yours?” she asked. “Can you
tell me at least your real first name? Just the name other peo
ple call you?”
blur of his face. “What about yours?” she asked. “Can you
tell me at least your real first name? Just the name other peo
ple call you?”
She tried not to let it hurt her that he hesitated. “Can that
really worry you? I mean, if I knew your name was Jack or
Tom, I'd have at least that much of a real person to remem
ber when I think about you. How could telling me your first
name hurt you?”
really worry you? I mean, if I knew your name was Jack or
Tom, I'd have at least that much of a real person to remem
ber when I think about you. How could telling me your first
name hurt you?”
“It's just that it's an unusual name.”
“Throckmorton? Abercrombie? Margaret?”
The name formed on his lips and the warning came. Just
a tiny spark of pain behind his eye. But the anger was his
own when he realized that Abel had been there all this time.
What if he had made love to her? Damn it. Would Abel have
shared in that? Abel kicked again.
a tiny spark of pain behind his eye. But the anger was his
own when he realized that Abel had been there all this time.
What if he had made love to her? Damn it. Would Abel have
shared in that? Abel kicked again.
No, he thought. Abel wouldn't care. All he'd think about is me not getting too close. You can go to hell, Abel.
“Did you say something?”
“Jared,” he answered. “Liz, my name is Jared.”
“Jared,” she repeated. “It's a good name for you, Jared,”
she said again. And soon she was asleep.
she said again. And soon she was asleep.
But not Baker. There were too many new and happy
thoughts. Awake, he could choose his dreams. He could play
a long ski run on the ceiling and he could see Liz Burke ahead, waiting for him to catch up, and she had Tina with
her. My God, they look like sisters. Liz must have been teaching Tina. Teaching the leg to work again better than
ever.
thoughts. Awake, he could choose his dreams. He could play
a long ski run on the ceiling and he could see Liz Burke ahead, waiting for him to catch up, and she had Tina with
her. My God, they look like sisters. Liz must have been teaching Tina. Teaching the leg to work again better than
ever.
And now he saw a beach. He felt Liz Baker's . . . Liz Burke's hand in his and a warm August surf brushing over bare feet. And then a boat. He was at the helm, and he saw Liz on the foredeck dropping the genoa as the boat coasted to an anchorage. It was a cove. A place to take a swim and
then pour wine and grill steaks over the stern. They'd watch
the sun go down. Baker's eyes grew heavy. In no more than
a blink, the boat was different. Bigger. Oh, damn, he
thought. Now he was on Sonnenberg's boat and Liz was
gone and where was Sonnenberg? He's here somewhere.
Sonnenberg's always here. Listening. Watching. Recording.
For a week and then another week. Every day. That's
enough, Doctor. I want to get off this boat.
then pour wine and grill steaks over the stern. They'd watch
the sun go down. Baker's eyes grew heavy. In no more than
a blink, the boat was different. Bigger. Oh, damn, he
thought. Now he was on Sonnenberg's boat and Liz was
gone and where was Sonnenberg? He's here somewhere.
Sonnenberg's always here. Listening. Watching. Recording.
For a week and then another week. Every day. That's
enough, Doctor. I want to get off this boat.
“They'll kill you or imprison you, Jared. Be patient, I
hope to have news for you soon. Glorious news.”
hope to have news for you soon. Glorious news.”
”I want to see Tina. I'm going to find a way to see Tina.”
“Come to my home, Jared. We'll leave the boat and
you'll stay at home. It's not far. I have a surprise for you
there, Jared. And you can call Tina. There's a way that you
can talk to her from my home.”
you'll stay at home. It's not far. I have a surprise for you
there, Jared. And you can call Tina. There's a way that you
can talk to her from my home.”
Baker rubbed his eyes and opened them. Liz? Where was
Liz? He tried to sit up so he could turn on the light and look
for her, but a weight pressed him back. She was still there.
She'd been so close against him that it was hard to tell where
her body ended and his began. She was there. For now. But
so, in his way, was Sonnenberg.
For now.
Liz? He tried to sit up so he could turn on the light and look
for her, but a weight pressed him back. She was still there.
She'd been so close against him that it was hard to tell where
her body ended and his began. She was there. For now. But
so, in his way, was Sonnenberg.
For now.
6
It was only a month since he'd found Baker. But such a month. What was Ben Meister's expression? The mother
lode. Yes. Well, we'll know in the morning, won't we. In the
morning, Mr. Baker, you may take one giant step. May I, Doctor? Yes, you may, Baker. And once we both find out
what you're made of, we'll try one giant leap.
lode. Yes. Well, we'll know in the morning, won't we. In the
morning, Mr. Baker, you may take one giant step. May I, Doctor? Yes, you may, Baker. And once we both find out
what you're made of, we'll try one giant leap.
Sonnenberg grinned and shivered. The very prospect was
making him giddy. Composure, Marcus, he chided himself. Calm yourself. If Mrs. Kreskie sees you excited, she'll be at
your door with a bowl of chicken soup, folding down your
bed.
making him giddy. Composure, Marcus, he chided himself. Calm yourself. If Mrs. Kreskie sees you excited, she'll be at
your door with a bowl of chicken soup, folding down your
bed.
Marcus Sonnenberg listened at the door of his bedroom
on the second floor. He heard the sound of a television pro
gram coming from Baker's room. There were no other noises. Then, satisfied that Mrs. Kreskie had stopped
dawdling over the silver service and had either taken herself
to bed or gone prowling in the night, he bolted his door from
the inside and limped to the larger of two bookcases. There,
from a hollowed volume of
The Oxford Book of English
Verse,
he chose one of the four entubed Monte Cristo cigars
he kept hidden there. He had long since come to terms with
the destruction of the book for such a purpose. Shelley,
Oscar Wilde, and certainly Kipling would understand com
pletely. John Milton and Alexander Pope, however, and Mrs.
Kreskie, who was easily their peer at fussbudgetry, would
doubtless visit great scorn upon him for pursuing this secret vice at all, let alone compounding the act with literary van
dalism. Odors in the odes, so to speak.
on the second floor. He heard the sound of a television pro
gram coming from Baker's room. There were no other noises. Then, satisfied that Mrs. Kreskie had stopped
dawdling over the silver service and had either taken herself
to bed or gone prowling in the night, he bolted his door from
the inside and limped to the larger of two bookcases. There,
from a hollowed volume of
The Oxford Book of English
Verse,
he chose one of the four entubed Monte Cristo cigars
he kept hidden there. He had long since come to terms with
the destruction of the book for such a purpose. Shelley,
Oscar Wilde, and certainly Kipling would understand com
pletely. John Milton and Alexander Pope, however, and Mrs.
Kreskie, who was easily their peer at fussbudgetry, would
doubtless visit great scorn upon him for pursuing this secret vice at all, let alone compounding the act with literary van
dalism. Odors in the odes, so to speak.
Sonnenberg dragged his stiffened leg to a window that
overlooked the darkened twelfth fairway of the Westchester
Country
Club. Sniffing the cigar at its length and testing its
moisture content with gentle pressure from his fingertips,
the bearded man eased himself into a bentwood rocker posi
tioned there. He lit his prize slowly with a wooden match
and readied himself for an hour of peaceful contemplation.
overlooked the darkened twelfth fairway of the Westchester
Country
Club. Sniffing the cigar at its length and testing its
moisture content with gentle pressure from his fingertips,
the bearded man eased himself into a bentwood rocker posi
tioned there. He lit his prize slowly with a wooden match
and readied himself for an hour of peaceful contemplation.
As the smoke drifted through the open window, his eyes fell upon the small parabolic microphone that sat on a col
lapsed tripod near the sill. Sonnenberg enjoyed, during idle
moments, listening to the chitchat of passing golfers. It was often amusing and sometimes instructive. Sonnenberg liked
to know his neighbors.
lapsed tripod near the sill. Sonnenberg enjoyed, during idle
moments, listening to the chitchat of passing golfers. It was often amusing and sometimes instructive. Sonnenberg liked
to know his neighbors.
All asleep now, though, he thought. And no one on the
golf course except land turtles laying eggs and raccoons eat
ing them. His random thoughts began to focus, for no reason
that he knew, on a small but odd event of a fortnight earlier. He'd been listening at his window, headphones over his ears,
and peering through a cloud of good Havana toward the two
some on the twelfth tee. A loud thunk caused him to blink.
The sound came through his feet. A simultaneous “Oh,
shit!” came through the headphone from a hundred and sev
enty yards away and another voice said, “The hell with it,
Dunny. Take another one.”
golf course except land turtles laying eggs and raccoons eat
ing them. His random thoughts began to focus, for no reason
that he knew, on a small but odd event of a fortnight earlier. He'd been listening at his window, headphones over his ears,
and peering through a cloud of good Havana toward the two
some on the twelfth tee. A loud thunk caused him to blink.
The sound came through his feet. A simultaneous “Oh,
shit!” came through the headphone from a hundred and sev
enty yards away and another voice said, “The hell with it,
Dunny. Take another one.”
Dunny's tee shot, probably attempted with an ill-advised
driver, had cleared Sonnenberg's high stockade fence and caromed off the house itself. The doctor silently congratu
lated himself for opting against aluminum siding, even
though the economics were sound enough when compared to
the triennial five thousand dollars he paid to Puzo and his two
Sicilians. But there were other considerations. One could lit
erally envelop an aluminum-clad home with unseen listening
devices. And, as Dunny's errant shot had demonstrated, to
protect any investment in siding would have required the ed
ucation of the entire membership of that silly club as to the
physical laws that apply to successfully negotiating a short
par four with a dogleg to the right. A three iron at most would
likely have stayed in bounds. It would have left the
ball in po
sition
for a reasonable second shot. And a law requiring the
use of a three iron would spare him these seasonal mortar at
tacks on the roof and walls of his house.
driver, had cleared Sonnenberg's high stockade fence and caromed off the house itself. The doctor silently congratu
lated himself for opting against aluminum siding, even
though the economics were sound enough when compared to
the triennial five thousand dollars he paid to Puzo and his two
Sicilians. But there were other considerations. One could lit
erally envelop an aluminum-clad home with unseen listening
devices. And, as Dunny's errant shot had demonstrated, to
protect any investment in siding would have required the ed
ucation of the entire membership of that silly club as to the
physical laws that apply to successfully negotiating a short
par four with a dogleg to the right. A three iron at most would
likely have stayed in bounds. It would have left the
ball in po
sition
for a reasonable second shot. And a law requiring the
use of a three iron would spare him these seasonal mortar at
tacks on the roof and walls of his house.
A g
olf cart purred to a stop outside the stockade fence.
Only its surrey top was visible to Sonnenberg. He depressed the platter-shaped microphone and sat back to listen.
olf cart purred to a stop outside the stockade fence.
Only its surrey top was visible to Sonnenberg. He depressed the platter-shaped microphone and sat back to listen.
The erring golfer had just read aloud a sign on Sonnen
berg's fence that said,
beware, attack cat on premises,
and
had discovered a small pail of balls that hung from a peg be
neath it.
berg's fence that said,
beware, attack cat on premises,
and
had discovered a small pail of balls that hung from a peg be
neath it.
“The sign's just a nice way of saying keep out,” said the
other man. “If you come through here tomorrow, your ball will be in the bucket.”
other man. “If you come through here tomorrow, your ball will be in the bucket.”
”I suppose he's had trouble with people climbing the fence,” the one called Dunny wondered. Sonnenberg re
called that he was a tall man, over sixty, with a boardroom
look about him even dressed in Izods.
called that he was a tall man, over sixty, with a boardroom
look about him even dressed in Izods.
“Nope,” his partner told him. “No one ever does. Even if
you got to the top without breaking your neck, there's a jun
gle of high rhododendrons on the other side. On top of that,
the whole house is electronically rigged like nothing you
ever saw. It has electric eyes, pressure plates, silent alarms,
klaxons, and hidden cameras. He's even got recorded
screams and gunshots that'll scare the hell out of you if you happen to break the wrong beam.”
you got to the top without breaking your neck, there's a jun
gle of high rhododendrons on the other side. On top of that,
the whole house is electronically rigged like nothing you
ever saw. It has electric eyes, pressure plates, silent alarms,
klaxons, and hidden cameras. He's even got recorded
screams and gunshots that'll scare the hell out of you if you happen to break the wrong beam.”
“What is he, a nut?”
“If he is, he's a pleasant enough nut,” Dunny's partner an
swered. Sonnenberg knew this one now. Blair Palmer.
Across the street and two houses up. A broker specializing
in arbitrage. Two daughters and one son. The son had had a
minor homosexual encounter in New York the year before
and almost went insane when his erstwhile companion
learned his address and began calling him at home demand
ing “loans.” Sonnenberg had played the tapes for Mrs.
Kreskie, who quietly put a lasting stop to that.
swered. Sonnenberg knew this one now. Blair Palmer.
Across the street and two houses up. A broker specializing
in arbitrage. Two daughters and one son. The son had had a
minor homosexual encounter in New York the year before
and almost went insane when his erstwhile companion
learned his address and began calling him at home demand
ing “loans.” Sonnenberg had played the tapes for Mrs.
Kreskie, who quietly put a lasting stop to that.
“That's old Doc Sonnenberg,” Blair Palmer continued.
“He invents all that stuff. Lives there alone except for a mute
housekeeper and some technicians that come and go.”
“He invents all that stuff. Lives there alone except for a mute
housekeeper and some technicians that come and go.”
“How well do you know him?” Dunny asked.
Sonnenberg arched one eyebrow. An odd question for a golfer newly burdened with a two-stroke penalty and facing
an even more vexing shot to the green.
an even more vexing shot to the green.
“Not that well. He throws a party for the neighbors once a year and that's about it.” Palmer glanced back toward the tee and the waiting golfers, who were becoming restive.
“Listen,” he urged Dunny, “you better take a drop right here
and then try to lay up short with a seven iron.”
“Listen,” he urged Dunny, “you better take a drop right here
and then try to lay up short with a seven iron.”
Sonnenberg listened to the soft wock of the shot being
made and watched the ball soar to Blair Palmer's ap
plause. It faded past a tall elm and bounded confidently
toward the twelfth green. Sonnenberg's other eyebrow
went up. Very deftly done for a man whose previous shot was mishit so heroically. He listened to the fading voices
of the two men as the cart pressed a path into the Karastan fairway and wished he'd had a better look at the one called Dunny. The thought nipped at Sonnenberg for the
next two weeks.
made and watched the ball soar to Blair Palmer's ap
plause. It faded past a tall elm and bounded confidently
toward the twelfth green. Sonnenberg's other eyebrow
went up. Very deftly done for a man whose previous shot was mishit so heroically. He listened to the fading voices
of the two men as the cart pressed a path into the Karastan fairway and wished he'd had a better look at the one called Dunny. The thought nipped at Sonnenberg for the
next two weeks.
Probably nothing to it, Sonnenberg decided now. He
reached absently toward the dials of a small black console
that sat on a Parsons table to his left. Still, Sonnenberg
wished that he'd thought to tune in to the Palmer house that
same evening to see what might be said about Blair Palmer's
golf partner. Probably nothing, though. For the second time
in as many weeks, Sonnenberg dismissed the man called Dunny from his conscious thought.
reached absently toward the dials of a small black console
that sat on a Parsons table to his left. Still, Sonnenberg
wished that he'd thought to tune in to the Palmer house that
same evening to see what might be said about Blair Palmer's
golf partner. Probably nothing, though. For the second time
in as many weeks, Sonnenberg dismissed the man called Dunny from his conscious thought.
He rested one finger on the console's power switch. What
to do? Do I spend another evening listening to Baker's tapes
or do I visit the neighbors for a change. There's not much
more to be learned about Baker. Not without stirring the
soup, and we'll try that tomorrow. For now, how about lis
tening in to the Dickersons first. They're entertaining, I un
derstand, if the word applies in their case. Allison Dickerson
could discourse with equal ignorance on the subjects of
Szechuan cookery, post-impressionist art, the care of
African violets, and the devotion of her husband, of which
he had not a whit. Allison Dickerson. Sounds like
Higgledy-Piggledy. I must write a piece of doggerel some
day about Allison Dickerson. Perhaps I just did. függiedy-
Piggledy Allison Dickerson, egregiously boring and
tiresome twit. Higgledy-Piggledy, Allison Dickerson, who
reads
Reader's Digest
for wisdom and wit. What else
rhymes? Grit
?
. Warm spit
?
. Split? Now there's a notion. What
if I could draw from Allison Dickerson what there is in
Baker? What is the counterpoint to a boring woman? An ag
gressively boring woman? A violently boring woman? A woman who'll tear your head off if you wince at the taste of
her Peking duck? Steady, Marcus. And sorry, Jared Baker.
I'm just a bit flighty this evening. I hoped you'd understand
this electronic eavesdropping. A harmless entertainment.
One that sometimes has a salutary effect, however, as in the
case of young David Palmer. Above all, I simply like to
know what's being said of me from house to house. I like to
know that I've succeeded in being reclusive without seem
ing more than a touch eccentric or unduly mysterious. An in
ventor of electronic exotica is expected to follow a different buzzer, as it were.
to do? Do I spend another evening listening to Baker's tapes
or do I visit the neighbors for a change. There's not much
more to be learned about Baker. Not without stirring the
soup, and we'll try that tomorrow. For now, how about lis
tening in to the Dickersons first. They're entertaining, I un
derstand, if the word applies in their case. Allison Dickerson
could discourse with equal ignorance on the subjects of
Szechuan cookery, post-impressionist art, the care of
African violets, and the devotion of her husband, of which
he had not a whit. Allison Dickerson. Sounds like
Higgledy-Piggledy. I must write a piece of doggerel some
day about Allison Dickerson. Perhaps I just did. függiedy-
Piggledy Allison Dickerson, egregiously boring and
tiresome twit. Higgledy-Piggledy, Allison Dickerson, who
reads
Reader's Digest
for wisdom and wit. What else
rhymes? Grit
?
. Warm spit
?
. Split? Now there's a notion. What
if I could draw from Allison Dickerson what there is in
Baker? What is the counterpoint to a boring woman? An ag
gressively boring woman? A violently boring woman? A woman who'll tear your head off if you wince at the taste of
her Peking duck? Steady, Marcus. And sorry, Jared Baker.
I'm just a bit flighty this evening. I hoped you'd understand
this electronic eavesdropping. A harmless entertainment.
One that sometimes has a salutary effect, however, as in the
case of young David Palmer. Above all, I simply like to
know what's being said of me from house to house. I like to
know that I've succeeded in being reclusive without seem
ing more than a touch eccentric or unduly mysterious. An in
ventor of electronic exotica is expected to follow a different buzzer, as it were.
Sonnenberg flipped on the switch.
Even if rarely seen, Sonnenberg was a popular neighbor.
Somehow, he always managed to know of anniversaries and graduations and other happy events in the lives of the people
nearby. A bottle of Mouton Rothschild, for which he was known to have a passion, would appear at their doorsteps
with a gracious note that began: ”I seem to recall . . .” At
Christmastime, each of the local policemen had come to ex
pect a boxed gallon of Chivas Regal and their superiors re
ceived some portion of a case of wine. Sonnenberg hoped
sincerely that this division did not smack of condescension. There was only so much of the better vintages to be found,
and experience, in any case, had shown him that the Scotch
would be perceived as the greater gift by the men in uni
form. This he accepted reluctantly, convinced that this par
ticular blend of Scotch was genetically undistinguished,
pretentious to the point of fraud, and dreadfully overpriced.
One neighbor, who was in advertising, had once remarked
that if there were neither a Christmas nor a Harlem, there
would be no Chivas Regal. The insight delighted Sonnen
berg and impressed him with his neighbor's wit. He made a
mental note to listen in on more of that man's conversations. But be that as it may, the effect of his holiday remembrances
was that his house was regularly patrolled and checked, par
ticularly during his frequent absences.
Somehow, he always managed to know of anniversaries and graduations and other happy events in the lives of the people
nearby. A bottle of Mouton Rothschild, for which he was known to have a passion, would appear at their doorsteps
with a gracious note that began: ”I seem to recall . . .” At
Christmastime, each of the local policemen had come to ex
pect a boxed gallon of Chivas Regal and their superiors re
ceived some portion of a case of wine. Sonnenberg hoped
sincerely that this division did not smack of condescension. There was only so much of the better vintages to be found,
and experience, in any case, had shown him that the Scotch
would be perceived as the greater gift by the men in uni
form. This he accepted reluctantly, convinced that this par
ticular blend of Scotch was genetically undistinguished,
pretentious to the point of fraud, and dreadfully overpriced.
One neighbor, who was in advertising, had once remarked
that if there were neither a Christmas nor a Harlem, there
would be no Chivas Regal. The insight delighted Sonnen
berg and impressed him with his neighbor's wit. He made a
mental note to listen in on more of that man's conversations. But be that as it may, the effect of his holiday remembrances
was that his house was regularly patrolled and checked, par
ticularly during his frequent absences.
This too pleased the neighbors. All forms of protection
that embraced the Sonnenberg home also embraced their
own. Most, in fact, boasted possession of one or more of his security devices, often experimental, and installed by one of
the technicians who often stayed at Sonnenberg's house for
weeks, sometimes months, on end. There was never a charge
for the service, save the unwitting cost in the coin of privacy
as each became a channel on Sonnenberg's console.
that embraced the Sonnenberg home also embraced their
own. Most, in fact, boasted possession of one or more of his security devices, often experimental, and installed by one of
the technicians who often stayed at Sonnenberg's house for
weeks, sometimes months, on end. There was never a charge
for the service, save the unwitting cost in the coin of privacy
as each became a channel on Sonnenberg's console.
Once a year, the neighbors and a handful of local busi
ness people would receive a glitteringly formal invitation to
cocktails at the Sonnenberg home. It was the party Blair Palmer had mentioned to his friend Dunny. The invitation always came during the holiday season, a time when good will was pandemic and when the baser forms of curiosity
were at their lowest ebb. A gift box containing a delicate tree
ornament from Tiffany's would invariably accompany the
invitation. Some of the neighbors had collected nine of
them.
ness people would receive a glitteringly formal invitation to
cocktails at the Sonnenberg home. It was the party Blair Palmer had mentioned to his friend Dunny. The invitation always came during the holiday season, a time when good will was pandemic and when the baser forms of curiosity
were at their lowest ebb. A gift box containing a delicate tree
ornament from Tiffany's would invariably accompany the
invitation. Some of the neighbors had collected nine of
them.
Sonnenberg was a superb and elegant host. He would ap
pear at the door, leaning on his cane with one hand, holding
a champagne glass aloft in the other, and he would greet
each of his guests, enthusiastically pronouncing each of
their names and bowing slightly in the European manner. If
a guest brought a small gift, as did most, he would profess a
childlike delight at being remembered. Such a wonderful
season, he would say. Such wonderful friends and neigh
bors. Such a wonderful country.
pear at the door, leaning on his cane with one hand, holding
a champagne glass aloft in the other, and he would greet
each of his guests, enthusiastically pronouncing each of
their names and bowing slightly in the European manner. If
a guest brought a small gift, as did most, he would profess a
childlike delight at being remembered. Such a wonderful
season, he would say. Such wonderful friends and neigh
bors. Such a wonderful country.
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