“No, still marvelous,” she said, her voice bitter. “But I tell you what. If you have second thoughts, just chuck it in the bin and no one’s the wiser. But I’d have someone give it a look, I really would. Who knows? There might be a promotion in it for you. Just keep my name out of the thank-you speech. Come to think of it, you don’t know my name now, do you? Maybe that’s best.”
“You never used to be like this,” he said, not really answering her. “How do I contact you?”
“You don’t. I’m finished with it now. Steven’s address is inside. A box number. They read the post, by the way, so tell whoever it is to be careful-well, that sounds silly, doesn’t it? Of course they would. Just tell them to give him a time and a place and he’ll know. Somewhere in Santa Fe-he’s not allowed to travel. If he doesn’t hear, well, then he’ll assume the comrades aren’t interested and we’ll have to think of something else.”
“Emma,” he said, his voice low. “In Berlin, when I–I was under orders.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“No, don’t go. You have to know what happened when I left. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anybody. They said lives might depend on it.”
“Lives did,” she said sharply.
Connolly heard her get up. Flustered, he turned and looked up to see her standing there, her padded shoulders pulled back, rigid with anger. He wanted to signal her, but her eyes were fixed on Matthew, oblivious to the room around them.
“I don’t mean ours,” Lawson was saying. “We were just kids. The others-they had a list, the whole network. I had to disappear. I couldn’t tell anybody. They ordered me not to, do you understand? It was important. There were people involved. It wasn’t my decision.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“No. Do you think I’d run away? Just like that? They had something for me to do. I couldn’t say no. It’s the discipline-every link. I had to do what they told me. Then, after-”
“Why are you telling me this?” she said, her voice cold. Connolly had dropped the wire and was staring at her.
“I don’t want you to think-I couldn’t help it, do you see?”
“Do you want me to forgive you? What a bastard you are.”
“I just wanted you to know what happened,” he said, hesitant now under her glare.
“That’s not all that happened in Berlin, Matthew,” she said, her voice so low and intense that the noise of the room seemed to step away from it, afraid. “You left a child. I cut it out.”
Connolly stared, helpless, as her eyes filled with tears.
She leaned in. “I saw it in a pan. Like a blood clot. But they cut out all my children. Didn’t mean to, but they did. You think I’m hard? I’m barren, Matthew. That’s what happened in Berlin. Here,” she said, picking up the envelope and throwing it at his chest. “Go save the world. Save it for your children.”
For a minute, no one moved. Then Emma picked up her bag and walked quickly out of the restaurant, her shoes clacking hard on the wood floor. Connolly watched her go, expecting Lawson to follow her, but there wasn’t a sound in the booth. He waited another minute, catching his own breath, then got up to go.
When he looked over the partition, he saw Lawson sitting, his face as red as if it had been slapped, staring at the brown envelope. Then suddenly he got up, bumping into Connolly.
For a split second Connolly met his eyes, wide and frantic. “Sorry,” he said automatically, but Lawson was already running out of the room.
Connolly followed through the noisy bar and pushed the door out into the hot air. Lawson was halfway down the block, walking quickly. He stopped and shouted something-her name? — but it was lost in the roar of the overhead train. At the corner, he had to stop for a light, and Connolly could see Emma across Third, already far along the side street, her white dress darting in and out of the crowd. They crossed together, Connolly hanging back a little, waiting for him to sprint, but there were too many people now and he couldn’t break through. Instead he sidestepped them, jumping into the street, then back again, trying to keep her in sight. When she turned right on Lexington, he quickened his pace, pushing against the crowd.
Emma hadn’t noticed any of it. When she reached the hotel she went straight in, not looking around. Lawson followed her to the door, dodging a car against the light, and then, finally there, stopped unexpectedly. Connolly turned at the window of a deli, watching to his left. Lawson stood for a second, rooted in indecision, then took a step toward the entrance and stopped again. A soldier and a girl came out of the hotel, carrying suitcases. Lawson took a handkerchief to wipe his face, then, his whole body slumping in some final resignation, turned and started walking slowly away. When he passed Connolly in the deli window he was looking at the sidewalk, glum and confused, as if he had just missed a train. Then Connolly lost him in the crowd.
