Now Id guess you to be a pharmacist? he said, leading him on.
The man had little English, but he understood that. He looked at OToole and twitched his nose. I thought he was not going to reply, but out the phrase came with all its international ambiguity, Import-export.
The priest for some reason began to speak of flying saucers. They swarmed over Argentina, so it seemed perhaps if we had clear nights we would observe one from the boat.
You really believe in them? I asked, and the old priest in his excitement abandoned his little English altogether.
He says, OToole explained, that you must have seen yesterdays Nación. Twelve cars were stopped coming from Mar del Plata to Buenos Aires on Monday night. When a flying saucer passes overhead a car-engine stops. The reverend father believes they have a divine origin. He translated almost as rapidly as the other talked. Recently a couple who were driving to Mar del Plata for the weekend were surrounded by a cloud. The car stopped and when the cloud dispersed they found they were in Mexico near Acapulco.
And he believed even that?
Sure. They all do. Once a week on the radio at Buenos Aires you can hear a programme all about flying saucers. Whos seen them that week and where. Our friend here says it may be the explanation of the flying house of Loretto. It was just picked up in Palestine, like those people on the road to Mar del Plata, and dumped down in Italy.
They served us a tough steak and afterwards oranges. The priest lapsed into silence and ate with a slight frown. Perhaps he felt in the presence of unbelievers. The business-man pushed back his plate of boiled vegetables and excused himself. I asked my neighbour what I had been longing to ask all through the meal: Are you married, Tooley?
Yeah. Sort of.
Youve got a daughter?
Sure. Why? Shes studying in London.
Shes in Katmandu, I said.
Katmandu! Why, thats Nepal.
The lines of anxiety deepened. Thats a hell of a thing to tell me, he said. How do you know? I told him about the Orient Express, but I left out any references to the young man. I said she was with a group of students, which was true when I last saw her.
He said, What can I do, Henry? Ive got my work. I cant go chasing round the world. Lucinda doesnt know the worry she gives.
Lucinda?
Her mother chose the name, he said with bitterness.
She calls herself Tooley now, like you.
She does? Thats new.
She seemed to have a great admiration for you.
I let her go to England, he said. I thought shed be safe there. But Katmandu! He pushed away the orange which he had so carefully sliced. Wheres she living? I doubt if theres a good hotel in the place. If theres a Hilton at least you know where you are. What shall I do, Henry?
Shell be all right, I said without conviction.
I could send a cable to the embassy I suppose theres an embassy. He got up abruptly and said, Ive got to take a leak.
I followed him out of the dining-room and down a corridor to the lavatory. There we stood side by side in silence. I noticed his lips moving perhaps, I thought, he was having an imaginary dialogue with his daughter. We left the lavatory together, and without a word he sat down on a bench on the port side of the deck. It was no longer raining, but it was grey and cold. There was nothing to see but some small trees growing at the edge of the dirty river, an occasional hut, and through the trees an expanse of brown scrub stretching to the horizon without a hill in sight.
Argentina? I asked to break the silence.
Its all Argentina, he said, till we reach the Paraguay river our last day. He took out a pocket-book and made some notes. They seemed to be figures. When he had finished he said, Excuse me. Its a record I keep.
Research?
Kind of a study Im making.
Your daughter told me you were in the CIA.
He turned on me his sad and anxious eyes. Shes a romantic, he said. She imagines things.
Is the CIA romantic?
A kid thinks so. I guess she saw some report of mine marked SECRET. Anythings secret that goes to a government department. Even malnutrition in Asunción.
I wasnt sure which of them I believed.
He asked me with an air of helplessness, What would you do, Henry?
I said, If you were really in the CIA you could probably find out how she was from one of your men there. You must have a man in Katmandu.
If I were really in the CIA, he said, I wouldnt want to get them mixed up in my private affairs. Have you any children, Henry?
No.
You are a lucky man. People talk about the age of reason. Theres no such thing. When you have a child you are condemned to be a father for life. They go away from you. You cant go away from them.
How would I know?
He brooded awhile, staring out over the scrub which never changed. The boat moved slowly against the strong flow to the sea. He said, My dad was all against the divorce for the sake of the child[244]. But there are limits to what a man can take she began to bring her boyfriends home. She was corrupting Lucinda.
She didnt succeed, I said.
Chapter 2
Next morning I missed OToole: he didnt appear at breakfast, and I looked for him in vain upon the deck. There was a heavy mist over the river which the sun took a long time to disperse. I felt a little lonely without my only contact. Everyone else was settling into a shipboard relation: even a few flirtations had begun. Two old men paced the deck fiercely, showing off their physical fitness. There was something obscene to me about their rapid regular walk they seemed to be indicating to all the women they passed that they were still in full possession of their powers. They wore slit jackets in imitation of the English they had probably bought them at Harrods and they reminded me of Major Charge.