The Designer(42)



‘That’s a relief.’

‘You have character, spirit and intelligence.’

Their steaks arrived and were as succulent as he had promised. Copper’s diet had been frugal since splitting up with Amory, and she ate like a starving lioness. ‘You’re very understanding, Monsieur Velikovsky.’

‘Henry, please. And may I call you Oona?’

‘You’re welcome to, but I get “Copper” from most people.’

‘Copper? I like that. I made my first big trade in copper futures.’

‘Really? You must have had a crystal ball.’

‘It required only a little insight to see that the world was rearming for an even bigger and better war than the last one. Copper is used for making bullets.’

‘You’re a real Daddy Warbucks.’

‘Who, pray, is Daddy Warbucks?’

‘You haven’t read Little Orphan Annie? It’s an American comic. Daddy Warbucks is the rich old war profiteer who protects Annie.’

‘That sounds like me.’

‘And how have you spent this bigger and better war?’ she asked.

‘In some strange places, not so comfortable as the Ritz. It’s good to be back in Paris.’

‘You’re being mysterious.’

‘Not deliberately. The war isn’t over, and nor is my work.’

‘I don’t see your sabre.’

He smiled. ‘Wars are won with brains as well as sabres. My job is to make sure the sabres arrive in the right place at the right time.’

‘And how do you arrange that?’

‘I climb up trees and watch who passes by.’

‘That sounds risky.’

‘It has its moments,’ he said lightly.

‘So you’re a secret agent?’

‘If I were, would I tell you?’

‘I’m just interested.’

‘If you’re thinking of including me in one of your articles, forget it. My work is off-limits.’

‘And what happens if you get caught?’

‘That depends on whether I’m caught by Herr Hitler or by Comrade Stalin. Things would be difficult either way.’

‘Can’t you retire now? The war is almost won.’

‘When it is won, I will retire,’ he agreed. ‘Though there may be no ending, merely a change of enemies.’

‘You mean the Russians?’

‘I mean the communists.’

‘That’s a depressing thought.’

‘Not for me. I don’t know quite what I would do to fill my time if I wasn’t at war. I’ve made enough money for my needs and I get bored easily. As, I imagine, you do, too.’ He refilled her glass. ‘May I ask why you described yourself as a Bolshevik?’

She smiled. ‘Oh, I’m not really. But we got called that plenty of times.’

‘We?’

‘My father was what you plutocrats would call a union agitator. He led strikes against bad working conditions in the 1930s.’

‘I see it now, in my mind’s eye. Little Copper, shivering outside the grey walls of the prison.’

‘That’s pretty much how it was.’

‘So you have more background in baby-eating and church-burning than I do.’

‘I’ve developed my own ideas since then. But I’ll always hate injustice.’

‘Good for you. I only ask one thing, Copper. That you will keep in touch with me from now on. Agreed? I suggest we make this a regular meeting – for as long as I’m in Paris, dinner at the Ritz once a week.’

‘Every week? Here?’

‘Well, I have a dusty little bureau on the Champs-élysées, but this is more congenial, don’t you think? And although I travel, I try to be back in Paris every weekend.’

‘I can eat an awful lot of steak,’ she warned.

‘That would be one of the reasons to develop our friendship – to make sure you don’t starve to death.’

‘And what would be the other reasons?’

‘I will be able to keep an eye on your progress. When you sell an article to Harper’s, I will arrange the payment. More than that, if you run out of money between assignments, I’ll see you through.’

She looked at him warily over the crystal rim of her wineglass. ‘This sounds awfully like a spider coaxing a reluctant fly into the web. If I take your money whenever I’m broke, wouldn’t that automatically make me an employee?’

‘Not at all. It would merely make you sensible.’

‘And what will you ask in exchange for “seeing me through”?’

‘The satisfaction of having fostered a rising talent,’ he replied smoothly.

‘That’s an interesting way of putting it,’ she replied briskly.

‘Do you suspect my motives?’

‘I’m inclined to, yes.’

‘You wound me deeply,’ he said, laying one tanned hand on the silk-faced lapel of his tuxedo. ‘I’m here to help.’

‘Oh, I can hear the milk of human kindness sloshing around inside you.’

He broke into laughter for the second time that evening. ‘Very well, I admit it. I’m interested in you. I would like to see more of you.’

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