Free Hamilton, Donald - Novel 01 by Date, Darkness (v1.1) Page B

her ascent.
Paul Laflin stood watching her until she was out of
sight. Presently he began to laugh.
          Mr. Hahn said, "Oh, be quiet,
Paul," and turned to Branch, taking his arm. "How
about a drink, Lieutenant?"
          The younger man followed as Branch
reluctantly allowed himself to be drawn towards the
taproom. Branch felt a finger touch his shoulder.
          "Did she ... ?"
          Mr. Hahn looked back and said, sharply,
"Stow it, Paul." He smiled at Branch. "That is the nautical
expression, I believe." As they sat down, he said, "She was at Rochemont . You have heard of Rochemont ."
          Branch put his cap on the table and
unbuttoned his raincoat. He had not heard of Rochemont .
He felt unpleasantly at a disadvantage, as if he had been caught making
improper advances to the neighbors" ten-year old daughter. He took his
pipe from his pocket, the smooth worn surface of it reassuring to his fingers,
and began to fill it automatically. He told the waiter whisky and ginger ale.
The mural above the two men facing him annoyed him in that the three
square-rigged vessels shown against a background of green shore and white- porticoed mansions were each sailing to a different wind.
You'd think , he reflected, that anybody would have
sense enough to check up on a thing like that before he painted a picture.
          "Don't feel bad about it," Mr.
Hahn was saying. "Paul tried it a long time ago. It was very hard on his
ego. The chinless man, smiling, glanced at his companion. "Shall I tell
him?"
          Paul Laflin shrugged his shoulders. "You will anyway."
          "When Madame Faubel came in afterwards," Mr. Hahn said happily, "she was in the bathroom
being, well .. ."
          "She was puking her guts out,"
the younger man said. "Don't be polite on my account." He turned to
Branch. "It is his one big joke. Every time I now speak to a girl..."
          "On her knees in front of the w.c .," the chinless man said slyly. " Romeol "
          "All right," said Paul Laflin . "All right!"
          Branch asked, "What the hell is Rochemont ?"
          He felt the tension between the two of
them evaporate in a moment and saw them look at him across the table as if he
were a backward child.
          Mr. Hahn said slowly, " Rochemont was hell, Lieutenant. Hell on earth."
          "A camp?" Branch asked irritably, refusing to be impressed. There was always that special
tone of voice that people used in referring to those places, and he was a
little tired of hearing about them. After all, the Nazis had not invented evil.
It was not as if Roman emperors and Spanish priests had not thoroughly explored
the methods of in inflicting pain on the human body centuries before. He
listened unsympathetically while Mr. Hahn described Rochemont in the pedantic tone laden with unspoken moral superiority that he might have
used in discussing sexual perversion in a psychology class in a coeducational
university. Then he looked up, and they all looked up, to see the thin-faced
middle-aged woman standing by the booth.
          "I was telling the Lieutenant about Rochemont ," Mr. Hahn said.
          The woman sat down beside Branch. "I
heard you," she said. "You are always telling about Rochemont . What do you know about Rochemont ?"
She swept off her hat and unbuttoned the jacket of her heavy brown tweed suit.
          "Madame Faubel ,
Lieutenant Branch," said the chinless man.
          "The trouble with the girl," the
woman said, speaking to Branch, "was that she did not know. You understand?
They wanted something important, and she simply did not know, and like a fool
she said so, at first, and then she began to lie. It is always fatal to lie.
When it is happening to you, you cannot remember what you told them even five
minutes ago. You contradict yourself. They think you are weakening and keep on
... Get me a drink, Paul," she said. "Coca-Cola."
          The younger man rose and went to