Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (97 page)

'Mine also,' he said. 'You see how easy it is to get greedy?'
He looked at her silently for a moment. 'I should be grateful.
After the way I ran out on you and your mother, I do not
deserve the good fortune of having found my daughter again.'

'I'm sure it wasn't all your fault. It can't have been.'

'It was.' He frowned to himself. 'I was a brash young fool
in those days, always out to change the world.'

'Which you're still trying to do,' she pointed out, but he did
not laugh.

'Sometimes it seems remarkable that things have turned out
as well as they have. It proves that life is not all bad.'

'It doesn't do anyone any good for you to keep whipping yourself for something that happened so long ago,' she said
gently. 'You're a fine man, in many ways much finer than I
imagined my father ever to be.'

Something like surprise showed in his eyes.

'You've even awakened me to the selfish life I've been lead
ing. Here you are, doing so much for our people, for the
world, and all I've been doing is thinking of myself. I'm rather ashamed. I never expected you to have such an impact on me.
You seem to have a gift for helping others.'

'You make films. You bring enjoyment to people all over
the world. That too is a gift.'

'Don't humour me. It's not the same thing, and you know
it.' She lowered her eyes. 'I
...
I know I can't do much to
help the cause you're fighting for. You see, my hands are tied.
O.T.—he's the head of the studio—would have a fit if I opened
my mouth and said anything political.' She gave a low laugh
but grimaced rather than smiled. 'My contract specifically for
bids me from making any public appearances and speeches
except those sanctioned by the studio. And then they tell me
what I can and cannot say. I suppose they all think I'm a child
who needs constant baby-sitting.' She sighed. 'I wish I could
do more to help, but . . . well, I want you to have this.'

Almost furtively she pressed a folded piece of pink paper
into his hand.

He looked down at it. 'What is this?'

She made a negligent gesture. 'Oh, just a little something to have made your tour a little more worthwhile. I know
money can never take the place of personal involvement, but
it must be necessary if you've had to come here on a fund
raising tour.'

'You know you do not need to do this,' he said quietly.

She raised her hand as though challenging him. 'Oh yes I
do. It's the only way I know of to help. Take it. Please,' she
urged. "There are no strings attached. Spend it on whatever you think is necessary, I don't care what. I left the bearer line
blank since I didn't know how you would want it made out.'

Slowly he unfolded the cheque and looked down at it. His
eyebrows rose. 'Twenty thousand dollars!' He met her gaze
and shook his head. 'This is out of the question. I cannot
possibly accept this.'

'I don't expect you to.' She looked him straight in the eye. 'I'm not giving it to you. I'm giving it to your cause, to help
fight for a Jewish nation.' She closed his fingers around the cheque. 'Stop worrying, for heaven's sake, and just take it in
the spirit it was given.'

'Do you realize that this is the largest contribution we have
received on the entire tour so far? You are certain you can
afford it?'

'Look around you,' she said lightly, gesturing at the room.
'What does it look like?'

She was glad he did not reply to that. The twenty thousand
was everything she had managed to tuck away during the past five years from her astronomical salary—an astronomical salary that seemed to vaporize as soon as she was paid. It was her
secret emergency fund. A pathetic hoard, considering she'd earned close to a quarter of a million dollars and this was all
she had to show for it.

From outside they could hear Louis honking the car horn,
and they both glanced toward the door. He leaned down and
held her tightly as he kissed her cheek. 'Did I tell you you have
a very nice husband?' he said.

'No, but you didn't have to. I know.'

'You will tell Inge for me that I enjoyed seeing her again?'

She nodded. 'And I'll write often to the address you gave
me,' she promised.

'Do not be disappointed by the mail. Letter service is slow
and sporadic in Palestine,' he warned. 'Often mail gets lost.'

Then I just may have to come in person.'

'I would like that. If you do, and you write when you are
coming and receive no letter from me in reply, do not worry.
Come anyway and stay at the Rehot Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv. Check in under the name of Sarah Bernhardt.'

'Sarah Bernhardt!' She laughed. 'You've got to be joking!'

He permitted himself a slight smile. 'It sounds rather obvi
ous, but only to us. It will be our own private code, and no
one else will suspect that it is a message to me.' He smoothed
her hair. 'Sarah Bernhardt shall be a private joke between us.'

'Sarah Bernhardt.' She nodded solemnly.

Then, after you check in, place a personal advertisement
in the newspapers. It should read "US passport lost vicinity Jericho. Contact Holy Land Pilgrimage Tours". Do not add
anything else. Then wait at the hotel until someone gets in touch with you. It may be me or someone else and it could
take several days, so try to be patient.'

'It all sounds rather mysterious, like something worthy of Mata Hari. Are you sure all this subterfuge is necessary?'

'As long as I am committed to fight for a Jewish homeland,
yes, I think it is.'

' "US passport lost vicinity Jericho",' she repeated. ' "Con
tact Holy Land Pilgrimage Tours". 'I'll be able to remember
that easily enough.'

'Good, but it is all written down with the address I left you.'

Louis honked again and Schmarya embraced her for one
last time, enfolding her in the comforting paternal warmth of
his arms.

'You'll see,' she vowed with quiet conviction, 'I'm going to
visit you in Palestine. It might even be sooner than you think.'

Chapter 18

'Is
Señor
Harriman,
señora,'
Esperanza announced from the
door. 'The man from the bank.'

'Well, don't just stand there,' Tamara said irritably. 'Send
him in.'

Esperanza fixed her with a dark look.
'Si señora
,' she said with resignation, and flapped back out, then led Clifford Harriman into the room and shut the door from outside.

'Miss Tamara,' Harriman said, crossing the expanse of
white carpeting to where Tamara was standing. 'I hope I am
not inconveniencing you.'

'Not at all, Mr. Harriman. It's a pleasure to see you,' she
lied in a pleasant tone, holding out her hand for him to shake.
His handshake was light and bony, almost brittle. She had the
feeling that if she gripped him too hard, she would hear his bones breaking. 'Please, won't you take a seat?' She waited
until he put down his briefcase and was seated. 'Can I get you
a drink?'

'No, no, that isn't necessary.' Harriman shook his head and
the tremendous wattle at his neck trembled. He looked,
Tamara thought, rather like a particularly bony, featherless,
and ancient turkey. Even his sparse white hair looked like
remnants of an imperfect plucking. But no turkey dressed in
such a flawlessly tailored dark grey suit complete with white
shirt, waistcoat, dark tie, and what was an obviously inherited
and very fine antique gold watch.

'You wished to see me,' Tamara said smoothly, tucking her
skirt under her buttocks and taking a seat opposite him. She
folded her hands in her lap and sat erect, her face composed
in a clear calm expression which gave no hint of the uneasiness
she felt stirring inside her. Ever since he had telephoned for
an appointment two days previously, she had had the nagging
feeling that something was amiss. Why else would the banker
have asked to see her—alone? She had hardly ever dealt with
him. 'As a rule, my husband takes care of our finances, Mr.
Harriman. Quite frankly, you should be speaking with him.'

Harriman nodded at her from across the huge expanse of
glass and chrome. 'I have been dealing with Mr. Ziolko for
some years now, but I felt it would be to your advantage to get you personally involved in your finances. It is no secret
that your income is the larger of the two. Therefore, you have
the most to lose.'

She stared at him in confusion. There was a nervous tic in
his left eye, and his almost translucent eyelid fluttered with
tiny, rapid jerks, like a butterfly's wing. 'Yes?' she said cau
tiously, her anxiety growing.

Harriman wasn't one to mince words or beat around the
bush. He cupped a liver-spotted hand in front of his mouth, coughed discreetly, and came right to the point. 'We at New
West Bank are quite concerned about your assets, Miss
Tamara. Or, I should say, your lack of them. Since the end of
last year, all your accounts, and your husband's, have been
consistently overdrawn. Also it pains me to have to tell you
this, but this is the second month in a row that your mortgage
payments have
...
er . . .' He coughed again. '. . . have
been insufficiently covered by the required funds.'

She stared at him. 'You mean the . . . the mortgage cheques
bounced?' she asked incredulously.

He nodded. 'We covered them, but yes, they did.'

'I . . . I had no idea,' she said shakily, nervously reaching
for a cigarette from the square cut-crystal box on the coffee
table. She picked up a silver lighter and lit it with trembling hands. It was true. Long ago, she'd allowed Louis to take all
their combined financial matters into his hands, and although
they always seemed short of ready cash and lived from one
day to the next, running up mountainous bills, she hadn't been
aware that things were quite this bad. Perhaps Harriman was
right. It might indeed be high time for her to get involved.