Greek Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

present.”
    He could see her now, braceleted, head-scarved, sitting at the table in the centre of the room, her hand moving among the tattered dog-eared magazines like someone reading braille. “Well?”
    â€œYou have here the name of the man who killed my husband?”
    â€œI didn’t say that. I think I know the name of the man who drove the car.”
    â€œTell me that.”
    Gene said: “What’s the good of trying to revenge yourself on a paid nobody? I’m interested in the man your husband was interested in. Do you know who that was?”
    She got up. “ Gene Vanbrugh—is that your name?—let me tell you that today I am not a happy woman. I loved Juan. Does that mean anything to you? Yesterday I was—in amity, do you say?—a married woman, a successful dancer, known all over Europe, happy. You know. Today I am a widow. In losing Juan everything is lost.
    Tonight I have no wish whether I live or die. It is so or it is so—well, who cares? For only one thing do I want to live—d’you understand?”
    â€œYes, I understand. But there are more ways——”
    â€œWait. You have understood that. Now understand this. You came upon me this morning saying you know much of this affair, knowing much, and saying you have the name of the murderer. What am I to think? Either you tell me that name or perhaps you are the murderer yourself.”
    In the narrow street outside, some children were playing, and their shrill excited voices echoed in the room.
    Gene said: “Juan Tolosa must have known what he was doing. You’re his wife. Why don’t you?
    â€œWell, I do not.”
    â€œPerhaps you know what he had to sell.”
    She hesitated. “ He did not have it here. Was he such a fool? He left it safe in Spain.”
    He took out a cigarette and offered the packet to her. She shook her black-maned head and watched him break a match head and carry the flame to his own cigarette.
    He said: “Does Philip Tolosa know you have come here tonight?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHe didn’t want you to have any contact with me.”
    â€œHe thought you were a reporter.”
    â€œPerhaps he knows more than you do.”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    One of the children outside had hurt himself and was crying. Maria went across and wrenched open a shutter. Sunlight came in like a rich visitor slumming, falling on dusty leather and unfamiliar floor.
    She said: “I will go, since you have nothing to tell me.”
    He said: “The man driving the car was probably a silversmith called Mandraki. There are only one or two such in Athens, since in the main Greeks like to fight their own battles. But he was there at the Little Jockey last night with a younger man I didn’t know. He is not the night-club type. I thought it strange at the time.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œBut he’s just a hired man, a go-between. Can you remember what sort of contacts your husband has had since you came?”
    â€œHe was out a lot.”
    â€œAnd Philip Tolosa?”
    â€œPhilip knows nothing . I have asked him.”
    â€œYou say this thing you were trying to sell is still in Spain?”
    She turned, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her scarlet mackintosh. “ Juan was not born yesterday. What was the name you heard in Paris?”
    â€œAvra.”
    She shook her head. “It means nothing. Who is he?”
    â€œA man I have met.… What are you going to do now?”
    She said: “ I don’t know how it is that you are interested in. this. Even if you are—what is the word?—level, what have you to gain?”
    â€œIt’s a personal matter. But I want to help you. Shall you stay in Greece for some time?”
    â€œI—don’t know. The funeral is tomorrow. It will depend on Philip and the others. You know. Soon I shall go back to Spain.”
    â€œIt would be