Read Online Cloak of Darkness by Helen MacInnes - Free Book Online
Authors: Helen MacInnes
Ads: Link
too—no changing trains, a straight run through. And it’s—” She cut that sentence short. The flat was affordable, its rent within their budget. “I thought you loved it,” she said, all joy leaving her face. “When we moved here in April, you—Bob, what’s wrong?”
Residence changed in April... Who the hell gave Klingfeld that information? “I’m all right, honey. Just pooped. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He pulled her close again, smoothed back a rebellious lock of hair, looked deep into her blue eyes, brought a smile back to her lips as he kissed her chin, her cheeks, her brow, her mouth. “I’m never too tired for that,” he told her.
***
Afterward, he lay beside her, not moving, not wanting to disturb the deep sleep into which Nina usually drifted. His dejection had lifted, his exhaustion, too, perhaps that had only been part of the depression, the feeling of uselessness—so few of us against the hidden threats, the secret intents of a widespread power-force. Not organised crime, he judged, although crimes enough were being committed: if Brimmer or Klingfeld were backed by any kind of Mafia, they wouldn’t need to search for assassination squads. They’d have their own hit men already taking direct action. Political backing, then? Klingfeld & Sons could have introduced that note. What else to think of a firm that had so much seeming power and money behind it and yet appeared to be anonymous? Neither Gilman nor Claudel had heard of it, and he was willing to bet that it was unknown, as an illegal business trafficking in forbidden exports of military equipment, to all other Intelligence agencies. If its name was recognised, it would be as some family firm in the regular import-export trade.
He looked down at Nina, resting within his arm, her body soft and warm drawn close to his. Protect and comfort, for better or worse, until death—
She may have heard his small intake of breath. She opened her eyes, saying, “I’m not asleep, either.” She turned sideways to face him, drew still closer, slid her arm over his body. “And I thought I had driven away your worries, darling.” She laughed, the light small laugh that echoed the affection in her voice. “Bob, you were right. This flat is too small. Look at this room. The bed almost fills it.”
He had to smile. King-size was what Nina had wanted. We could have done with a single bed for all the space we take up, he thought.
“But it’s storage that really is the problem. Of course, when that carpenter does arrive and makes us some closets—I’ve drawn out all the plans for him, measured everything—we’ll have more space. Much more. Bob.” He’s been so patient about that, she thought. His suits were hung on a rack near the bathroom door. “We could really be settled by July. Or August,” she added, thinking of the nonappearing carpenter.
“How about the Fourth of July in Washington?”
She pulled away from him, tried to sit up and look at him in wonder.
“Don’t you get homesick, Nina?”
“Yes. As you do. But I thought we were going back in September for two weeks—if you were free then.”
“I’m free now. Let’s make the trip when we can.”
“Leave in a few days?” She was dumbfounded.
“Leave tomorrow—no, day after tomorrow. On Wednesday.”
“Bob—how can we? You’ve got meetings.” And problems, she remembered. Even one problem always meant several late nights at the office. “And I’ll have to pack, and close up the flat—Why, the Fourth is on Saturday! We’d never make it.”
He reached out, took firm hold of her slender waist, pulled her down where she belonged. “Remember the evening in Georgetown when I waited for you in that half-built conservatory behind your father’s house, and you came running into my arms?”
“And you swung me up. Told me we were leaving the next morning to get married.” Nina was smiling again.
“You didn’t find it so hard to pack in a hurry then,” he said
Residence changed in April... Who the hell gave Klingfeld that information? “I’m all right, honey. Just pooped. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He pulled her close again, smoothed back a rebellious lock of hair, looked deep into her blue eyes, brought a smile back to her lips as he kissed her chin, her cheeks, her brow, her mouth. “I’m never too tired for that,” he told her.
***
Afterward, he lay beside her, not moving, not wanting to disturb the deep sleep into which Nina usually drifted. His dejection had lifted, his exhaustion, too, perhaps that had only been part of the depression, the feeling of uselessness—so few of us against the hidden threats, the secret intents of a widespread power-force. Not organised crime, he judged, although crimes enough were being committed: if Brimmer or Klingfeld were backed by any kind of Mafia, they wouldn’t need to search for assassination squads. They’d have their own hit men already taking direct action. Political backing, then? Klingfeld & Sons could have introduced that note. What else to think of a firm that had so much seeming power and money behind it and yet appeared to be anonymous? Neither Gilman nor Claudel had heard of it, and he was willing to bet that it was unknown, as an illegal business trafficking in forbidden exports of military equipment, to all other Intelligence agencies. If its name was recognised, it would be as some family firm in the regular import-export trade.
He looked down at Nina, resting within his arm, her body soft and warm drawn close to his. Protect and comfort, for better or worse, until death—
She may have heard his small intake of breath. She opened her eyes, saying, “I’m not asleep, either.” She turned sideways to face him, drew still closer, slid her arm over his body. “And I thought I had driven away your worries, darling.” She laughed, the light small laugh that echoed the affection in her voice. “Bob, you were right. This flat is too small. Look at this room. The bed almost fills it.”
He had to smile. King-size was what Nina had wanted. We could have done with a single bed for all the space we take up, he thought.
“But it’s storage that really is the problem. Of course, when that carpenter does arrive and makes us some closets—I’ve drawn out all the plans for him, measured everything—we’ll have more space. Much more. Bob.” He’s been so patient about that, she thought. His suits were hung on a rack near the bathroom door. “We could really be settled by July. Or August,” she added, thinking of the nonappearing carpenter.
“How about the Fourth of July in Washington?”
She pulled away from him, tried to sit up and look at him in wonder.
“Don’t you get homesick, Nina?”
“Yes. As you do. But I thought we were going back in September for two weeks—if you were free then.”
“I’m free now. Let’s make the trip when we can.”
“Leave in a few days?” She was dumbfounded.
“Leave tomorrow—no, day after tomorrow. On Wednesday.”
“Bob—how can we? You’ve got meetings.” And problems, she remembered. Even one problem always meant several late nights at the office. “And I’ll have to pack, and close up the flat—Why, the Fourth is on Saturday! We’d never make it.”
He reached out, took firm hold of her slender waist, pulled her down where she belonged. “Remember the evening in Georgetown when I waited for you in that half-built conservatory behind your father’s house, and you came running into my arms?”
“And you swung me up. Told me we were leaving the next morning to get married.” Nina was smiling again.
“You didn’t find it so hard to pack in a hurry then,” he said
Similar Books
