The Black Mountain

175 "I apologize," Wolfe said stiffly, "if I have imperiled you." Danilo waved it away. "That's not it. The Russians know I take money from Belgrade, and Belgrade knows I take money from the Russians, and they both know I am involved with the Spirit of the Black Mountain, so no one can imperil me. I slip through everybody's fingers like quicksilver -- or like mud, as they think. But not Josip Pasic. If I had him meet you in Titograd, and by some mischance -- No. Anyway, he can't leave. Also, what can he tell you? If he knew -- Yes, Meta?" The door had opened and Mrs. Vukcic had appeared. She came in a step and said something. Danilo, replying, arose, and so did Wolfe and I as she came toward us. "I have told my wife who you are," Danilo said. "Meta, this is Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Goodwin. There is no reason why you shouldn't shake hands with them." She did so, with a firm, friendly clasp. Danilo went on, "I know, gentlemen, that, like my uncle, you are accustomed to the finest dishes and delicacies, but a man can only share what he has, and at least we'll have bread." We certainly had bread. It was a very nice party. At the table in the kitchen an electric lamp with a big pink shade was between 176 Wolfe and me so I couldn't see him without stretching my neck, but that was no great hardship. Mrs. Vukcic was a wonderful hostess. It never occurred to Wolfe or Danilo to give a damn whether I had any notion of what they were talking about, which I hadn't, but Meta couldn't stand a guest at her table feeling out of it, so about once a minute she turned her black eyes to me just to include me in. I was reminded of a dinner party Lily Rowan had once thrown at Rusterman's where one of the guests was an Eskimo, and I tried to remember whether she had been as gracious to him as Meta Vukcic was being to me, but I couldn't, probably because I had completely ignored him myself. I resolved that if I ever got back to New York and was invited to a meal where someone like an Eskimo was present, I would smile at him or her at least every fifth bite. There was nothing wrong with the lamb stew, and the radishes were young and crisp, but the big treat was the bread, baked by Mrs. Vukcic in a loaf about as big around as my arm and fully as long. We finished two of them, and I did my part. There was no butter, but sopping in the gravy was taken for granted, and, when that gave out, the bread was even better with a gob of 177 apple butter on each bite. It was really an advantage not being able to follow the conversation, since it kept me busy catering for myself and at the same time making sure I met Meta's glances to show proper appreciation; and anyway, when Wolfe reported later, he said the table talk was immaterial. There was even coffee -- at least, when I asked Wolfe about it, he said it was supposed to be. I won't dwell on it. We were all sipping away at it, out of squatty yellow cups, when suddenly Danilo left his chair, crossed to a door -- not the one to the living room -- opened it enough to slip through, and did so, closing the door behind him. In view of what followed, there must have been some kind of signal, though I hadn't heard or seen any. Danilo wasn't gone more than five minutes. When he reentered he opened the door wider, and a breath of outdoor air came in, enough to get to us at the table. He came back to his chair, sat, put a wad of crumpled brown paper on the table, picked up his coffee cup, and emptied it. Wolfe asked him something in a polite tone. He put the cup down, picked up the wad of paper, unfolded it, got it straightened out, and placed it on the table between him and Wolfe. I stared at the object he had unwrapped, resting there 178 on the paper. Though my eyes are good, at the first glance I didn't believe them, but when they checked it I had to. The object was a human finger that had been chopped off at the base, no question about it. "Not for dessert, I hope," Wolfe said dryly. "It would be poison," Danilo declared. "It belonged to that baby rat, Jube Bilic. Meta dear, could I have some hot coffee?" She got up and went to the stove for the pot. 179 Chapter 10 Meta did not seem to be shocked by the display of an unattached human finger on her dining table, but she was. The proof is that she filled her husband's cup with steaming so-called coffee and returned the pot to the stove without asking her guests if they wanted some, which was not like her. When she was back in her chair Wolfe spoke. "An impressive exhibit, Danilo, no doubt of that. Naturally you expect a question, and I supply it. Where's the rest of him?" "Where it won't be found." Danilo sipped. "This method of confirming a removal is not a Montenegrin custom, as you know. It was introduced to us by the Russians a few years ago, and we have indulged them by adopting it." "It seems extreme -- not the finger, the removal. I assume that when you left us you went to tell someone that he was lurking in this neighborhood, and to give instructions 180 that he be found and removed." "That's right." Wolfe grunted. "Only because he had followed us to your house?" "No." Danilo picked up the exhibit, wadded the paper around it, got up and went to the stove, opened the door, tossed the thing in, closed the door, and returned to his chair. "It will smell a little," he said, "but no more than a morsel of lamb. Jube has been a nuisance ever since he started going to the university. For a year now he has made things harder for me by trying to persuade Gospo Stritar that my loyalty is to the Spirit of the Black Mountain -- and also, I have reason to believe, trying to persuade Belgrade. He was already condemned, and by following you here he merely presented an opportunity." Wolfe lifted his shoulders an eighth of an inch and let them down. "Then it was no disservice to lead him here. I don't pretend that I'm not impressed by the dispatch and boldness with which you grasped the opportunity." His eyes moved to Meta. "And I assure you, Mrs. Vukcic, that the grotesque table decoration served with the coffee has not diminished our gratitude for an excellent meal. I speak for Mr. Goodwin too, because he has none of your words." He returned 181 to Danilo and sharpened his tone. "If I may return to my affair? I must see Josip Pasic." "He can't come," Danilo said bluntly. "I ask you to reconsider." "No." "Then I'll have to go to him. Where is he?" "That's impossible. I can't tell you." Wolfe was patient. "You can't? Or you won't?" "I'm not going to." Danilo put his hands flat on the table. "For the sake of my uncle, Mr. Nero Wolfe, I have shaken your hand and so has my wife, and we have shared bread with you. But for the sake of what he believed in and supported, I will not run the risk of betraying one of our most carefully guarded secrets. It is not necessary to question your good faith, your rashness is enough. You may already have been recognized."