Part 8 (2/2)

”I don't want to know,” the dealer said.

”Hit me,” Rafi said. ”Does the Marine come in here?”

”I haven't seen him.”

”Again...What about the woman that's with him?”

”I don't know his woman.”

”You haven't seen her? Once more. You're missing it. She's an ice cream. b.u.t.ter almond. I look at her...”

”You wish you had a spoon,” the dealer said.

”I think I need a girl about twenty. Very beautiful, very innocent. I mean with the appearance of innocence. I don't have that in my stable right now.”

”Your girls look like the hotel maids,” the dealer said, paying Rafi for the fourth straight time.

”I'm riding one hundred and . . . seventy pesos,” Rafi said, holding out his original ten. ”If I win this one then I'm going to win something else very big, maybe the jackpot of my life ...Come on, give it to me.”

The dealer gave him an ace and a queen. Blackjack.

”There,” Rafi said, like there was nothing to it.

He watched the dealer turn up his own cards. Another ace, another queen. The dealer raised his eyes.

”The thing about it is,” Rafi said, ”you have to 115.

know what is a sign and what isn't. You can be wrong about signs, sometimes interpret them the opposite of what they mean.”

”You're still crazy,” the dealer said.

Rafi used restraint. He said, ”Am I?” and left the dealer with that, a secret smile that told nothing because it had nothing to tell. At least for the time being.

He would have to be more attentive in reading signs.

The Cat Chaser's notice in the paper and the business about it on the radio had alerted Rafi, immediately captured his interest. He talked to people who referred him to others who had taken an active part in the rebellion and there it was, once he put the pieces of the story together: an approach, a way to play a feature role in this, using an old knife scar to represent a bullet wound. He saw in his mind a crude scenario that went: RAFI: I'm the one you shot sixteen years ago. MARINE: Oh, I'm so sorry. What can I do to make amends? RAFI: Please, nothing. MARINE: I insist. RAFI: Well, as one businessman to another (a.s.suming the marine was now a businessman), I could tell you about a most unusual investment opportunity....

Something, in essence, like that. Make it up, get his check; gone. But now the mystery woman had entered the picture and the scenario was changing before Rafi's eyes, the woman the Marine called Mary emerging to become, possibly, the key figure. So far it was only a feeling Rafi had. But to a man who lived by signs and instinct, what else was there?

THEY DESCENDED a spiral iron stairway fifty feet into the ground to dine in a cave, a network of rooms and niches like catacombs where tables were set with candles and white linen and Dominican couples danced to the percussion sounds of a spiral iron stairway fifty feet into the ground to dine in a cave, a network of rooms and niches like catacombs where tables were set with candles and white linen and Dominican couples danced to the percussion sounds of merengues merengues. The old city and this place, no Coca-Cola or Texaco signs, Rafi said. This is Santo Domingo.

He told them he had begun to make inquiries about Luci Palma, but so far had learned nothing. It might take a little more time.

Moran tried to convince him it wasn't important, but Rafi insisted; he was curious about Luci now himself. What could have happened to her? He ventured the possibility she had become a full-time revolutionary and fled the country. Like Caamano, who had led the revolt in '65; he left the country, returned and was shot. It happened.

They talked about that time sixteen years ago, the situation. Moran said it had been impossible to understand, being here in the middle of it. The rebels kept saying to them, ”Can't you tell your government we aren't Communists?” It didn't begin to make sense. Almost all the people were friendly; still, guys he knew were getting killed. He read about the situation later and decided they had helped the wrong side-just as they'd been helping the wrong side in Latin America for eighty years. Like Nicaragua, helping that a.s.shole Somoza against the Sandinistas, the good guys. Except look at the good guys now. They just shut down a newspaper for criticizing them; they were doing the same thing Somoza did. What happens to good guys once they get control?

Mary said they have the right to make mistakes like anyone else. Don't a.s.sume anything; don't label people. She said, What if a skid-row b.u.m asks you for a handout? Are you going to qualify him, give him the money only if he promises not to spend it on booze? No. Once you give him the money-and it's your choice whether you do or not-then it's his, with no strings. He can spend it on anything he wants. He can screw up or not screw up, that's his his choice. Unless you're buying him. That's something else. choice. Unless you're buying him. That's something else.

Wine with dinner conversation: a bottle of red with the sopa Dominicana sopa Dominicana that was like beef stew with noodles; white wine with the sea ba.s.s simmered in a peppery tomato sauce ...Rafi hanging that was like beef stew with noodles; white wine with the sea ba.s.s simmered in a peppery tomato sauce ...Rafi hanging 119.

on every word: Moran's basic sympathy with the underdog, the revolutionary, maybe with a few minor doubts; while the woman's a.n.a.logy said don't expect too much, don't be surprised. Interesting; what Rafi considered the usual man-woman positions reversed. The woman using reason-at least, he a.s.sumed, until one got inside her pants. The man asking questions of what he's learned-but essentially, typically, an American bleeding heart.

Yes, it looked good.

Rafi excused himself. He visited the men's room, came out and entered the bar area that was set apart, like a pa.s.sageway in the cave, only a few couples here having drinks. At the far end of the bar was La Perla with her daiquiri, holding the big snifter gla.s.s in both hands beneath a pink glow, staring into the gla.s.s, an old woman in theatrical makeup, amber costume jewelry; a gypsy fortune-teller, a magic act waiting to go on.

”Tell me,” Rafi said, tense now, expectant.

”Yes, I have her picture.”

”I knew it! Who is she?”

”You don't know anything,” the woman, La Perla, said. ”We have to negotiate this some more. The shrimp c.o.c.ktail isn't going to do it.”

Now Rafi had to decide whether to give in to his impatience or play with the old woman, croon a few false notes to her, put his hand on the curve of her narrow back. But he was tired and he didn't care to feel old bones. He said, ”Buy your own rum,” and started away. ”She comes to Casa de Campo...” He paused. ”Yes?” ”. . . for the polo. But without her husband.” ”Ah, she's married; I knew it. And he's rich, uh?” ”I'm starving,” La Perla said. ”I want the entre cote, asparagus with hollandaise...” Rafi raised a hip to the empty stool next to her, her perfume overpowering him as he leaned close. ”Why don't you order whatever you like.” ”I still want the large shrimp c.o.c.ktail.” ”You should have it,” Rafi said. ”Who's her husband?” ”You won't believe it when I tell you.” ”I promise I will,” Rafi said. ”He's Dominican.” There was a pause between them; silence. ”But he can't come here with her,” La Perla said. ”Why is that, if he's Dominican?” ”Somebody would shoot him. Many Many people people would shoot him if they could.”

It was a game. Rafi tried to think of names- expatriates, political villains-anxious now, trying too hard, as though a buzzer were about to go off and he'd lose.

”He's rich, isn't he? He has to be, with an American wife who likes the polo.” ”You won't believe it when I tell you,” the 121.

woman said again. ”I think I want a bottle of wine also. A full bottle of Margaux.”

”When you tell me who it is,” Rafi said, ”have whatever you like. With my love.”

The woman tapped the bar, rings rapping on the varnished wood. ”Put the money here for my taxi and my dinner,” she said. ”But keep your love. I don't want to destroy my appet.i.te.”

There was not a noticeable change in Rafi when he returned to the table; they talked about Reaganomics and taxes and the price of automobiles. In Rafi's own mind, though, he was at once more cautious, even more observant. If the woman had turned out to be a film star or an international jet-setter he would be coming on to her now with subtle masculine moves, signs that he was available, a man who viewed pleasure as a way of life; far more sensitive than this former Marine who wiped his salad plate with his bread. Take him on mano a mano mano a mano and go for the woman with nothing to lose. and go for the woman with nothing to lose.

But this woman was a celebrity in a much different light. Married to a man who was at the same time rich and a son of a b.i.t.c.h, accredited in both areas; a man responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, perhaps thousands. (How many were thrown from the cliffs during Trujillo's time? The sharks still came to Boca Chica.) Married to the butcher and having a love affair with the bleeding heart.

Rafi was quiet now, cautious, because he saw himself in the presence of his future, the opportunity of a lifetime. Here you are. What can you do with this situation? The obvious, of course. But wait and see.

Though not for long. The conversation wound down and the woman covered yawns, smiling at the Marine with sleepy bedroom eyes, the idiot Marine sitting there fooling with his coffee spoon. In these moments, in the Meson de la Cava, Rafi began to feel contempt for the Marine; he should take the woman away from him. A lovely woman wasted on a man like this was a mortal sin. Move in... She'll buy you gifts.

But on the other hand...

It was an either-or dilemma. Go for the woman, get her to turn those eyes on him and have her. Or, use the affair with the Marine to score far more in the long run.

Or do both. Was that possible? Bleed the bleeding heart. Yes? And then then take the woman? It was a shame she wasn't married to the Marine and having the affair with de Boya. As it was there were interesting possibilities to think about. take the woman? It was a shame she wasn't married to the Marine and having the affair with de Boya. As it was there were interesting possibilities to think about.

Rafi cautioned himself again to go slowly and said, ”I think I should see you two back to your ho 123.

tel.” There was no argument. ”I'll call you tomorrow if I learn anything, all right?”

What else? It seemed enough for now. Don't be eager. At least don't appear eager.

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