The Night Travellers

5. A Patch of Blue

A Patch of Blue "They probably weren't after you at all," said Ethan. "I think you had been alone too long. That and the accident, those hunters. You began imagining things." "I think he was after whatever money I had. I think he thought I was a walking gold mine from the U.S. He meant to dig out what he could." "It's hard to know," said Ethan, and lit his pipe. "These are foreign people." He had signed them into the first decent motel he had come to, near Ottawa, in a town called Hull. "I don't understand their French," said Ethan. But he had spent some student years in Paris and now had whatever he wished, a large order of dinner from a restaurant, even a bottle of French wine from the ample menu. "Beautiful burgundy," he observed, gloating over the label. On the bed Kathy was snuggling with the teddy bear and watching TV. Mary had gotten her crying done. She had been so sure that Ethan was here with Jeff. It seemed too much even to think Ethan would come alone. "Not here! Not with you!" "My dear, please listen—" "I don't want to listen. Weeks in this dead end of a place, and now I have to listen!" She had flung herself on the bed, all but hearing her broken arm scream beneath the plaster, and let go into sobs she must have been saving up for months. "Mommy cry," said Kathy. Ethan had soothed her like a father. "There, now. I've news. The 241 5 2 4 2 T H E N I G H T T R A V E L L E R S next best thing. And letters. Come on, there, you've been too brave for anything. It's over, this time here. It's done." Reduced to sniffles, she had finally dried her eyes. Ethan had left to find some food for them. Kathy located the knobs on the TV. Now from beneath the white covering over a loaded tray the smell of wine and garlic were at work, magical. "But if you couldn't bring Jeff, why are you here at all?" "I had begun to feel such a load of guilt. I had sent you here, hoping you could meet up with him, stay out of Montreal—meddling on your behalf. I couldn't rest at night. I tried to telephone. Imagine what I felt when I heard nothing but 'hopital* The hospital! I couldn't rest for a moment until I took the next plane out." "But why leave Montreal? It's a paradise compared to this. I went flying out of it blind, trusting. I'm a fool." She bitterly massaged a bare foot, hoping it was still able. "I sent you here because of what Jeff got into. You don't even know what it was. I'm sure that little oddball of a courier didn't tell you. He stays scared of telling too much. "Jeff was supposed to be doing the usual job for us. Reporting, covering a 'happening.' We'll say, just off the record, that yes, it was subversive, and yes, it was dangerous. We needed him out there for the activities this particular underground group had gotten into. Further , I can't say. We needed the word out, we needed the eyewitness touch; we needed, furthermore, Jeff's skill at writing it, his special way of reporting with a guiltless, detached slanting of style, so that a reader wouldn't guess— Well, you know his gift. We sent him out. "Now, picture it. A dark hillside outside San Francisco north of the city. A hillside, an installation. What sort, not even you should know. But of intense importance in the field of, let's say, for example, weaponry. There's a war. More and better demons are at work, making even more horrendous tortures for the innocents who are in their way just by being where they've always been. You know the latest phrase for what they call them, once they're blasted dead, skin burnt from head to toe, not even recognizably human an* longer. It comes out of a corn flakes box: Crispy Critters. Don't dwell on it. The war gods are dancing for joy. "Anyway: The group Jeff went along with got over the fence and inside. All plans go. They zapped out the night watchman. Gates opened from...