Read Online Another Eden by Patricia Gaffney - Free Book Online Page B

to set up a temporary office."
    "I see. Then we won't be seeing you for a while, I expect." She kept her face mild, but she felt a strong and utterly inappropriate dismay. "Not for a while. But I'll be back before the twenty-seventh; I hope you haven't forgotten inviting me to dinner."
    "No, I haven't, but I was afraid—" The telephone rang on the wall behind her. She jumped, then apologized, laughing. "I
can't
get used to that. Would you excuse me for one second?" She picked up the receiver.
    He moved away to give her privacy, but spun back around when he heard the alarm in her voice. "What? I can't—Tasha, I can't understand you, speak English. Attacked! What do you mean?" She grabbed for the edge of the table. "Oh, God. Are you hurt? Have you talked to the police?" There was a long silence, she interrupted it twice with "Tasha—Tasha, I know, but—" With a visible effort, she forced her voice to sound calm. "Where are you?" she asked, while the hand clenched and unclenched on the table edge. "No, I don't know it. What street? Tasha,
what street
? All right, stay there, don't move, I'll come and get you. Are you sure you're not hurt, not—injured? All right, I'm coming right now, wait for me. It'll be about thirty minutes, maybe longer. Stay—Tasha, stay there, do you hear me? Don't move, don't go outside." Another pause. "I know," she said, and her voice almost broke. "I'm so sorry. I'll be there soon, I promise."
    As soon as she hung up, she started shaking. But she moved purposefully toward the door.
    "I have to go out now, something's happened." She caught sight of herself in the mirror and took time to unpin her silly hat and throw it on the table. "Excuse me, I need to get a hansom—"
    "Let me help you. What's happened?"
    "It's someone I know, she's been attacked by a man. I have to go and get her."
    "Yes, I heard that." He opened the door and held it for her. "I'll come with you. Where is she?"
    Sara hesitated, but only for a second. "Thank you, I would be very glad for your company." They went outside together, walking east toward Madison. There were no cabs on the wide avenue, they saw quickly. "We're better off taking the El. My friend is down on the East Side, somewhere on Houston Street." Alex took her arm, and they set off at a fast walk toward Third Avenue.
    They reached the top of the steep platform steps just as a downtown train was pulling in. They sat in the last car, nearly empty by now, grabbing onto the seat in front as the train started off with a neck-snapping jerk. Over the clatter and rumble of the wheels, Sara told Alex most of what she knew of Tasha Eminescu and the man who had been following her.
    They got off at the Bowery and walked past a row of tenements and cheap amusement halls, a fake museum, a tough Irish saloon. At Houston they turned left and headed toward the river. Most of the pushcart peddlers were gone by now, the market booths empty but still redolent offish and cheese and meat. A game of prisoner's base was breaking up in the street because it was too dark to see, but a gang of boys still played craps under the streetlight at First Avenue. The cobbled street was filthy, the sidewalk covered with litter. "Do you work near here?" Alex asked in amazement.
    "Yes, on Forsyth," she answered, distracted. "Tasha's in a cafe, I think it's on this block."
    "What's it called?"
    "She didn't know. She was afraid to ask anyone. She said it's Russian, but there are so many—here, let's try this one."
    They were walking past a dark, wooden building, scarcely fifteen feet across, which Alex would never have guessed was a cafe had he not been told. The only window was closed and curtained, and the only sign was in Russian. Inside, it was so dark and smoky, they could barely see across the room. As their eyes adjusted, they saw men sitting at tables, some playing chess, all drinking tea from tall tumblers, biting off bits of sugar from cubes. They were pale-faced, tired-looking men, talking