To The Stars

Dinner was not the trial he thought it would be. The food — as always — was wonderful, beef Wellington with four kinds of vegetables. Sara was demure and quiet, and talking with her was like playing a role on stage. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her, how empty he had felt when he knew that he would never see her again. Yet here she was — in the heart of Security. There was an explanation, of course, but he did not dare ask it. The talk was light, the food, and brandy after, very good. He even managed to play snooker and beat Thurgood-Smythe two games out of three.

“Too good for me,” his brother-in-law said.

“Don’t apologize — just pay up the five quid you owe me.

“Did we really agree on a fiver a game? All right, you’re correct of course. Better than usual, our little Irish colleen.”

“Better! Smashing is the word. Where on earth did Liz ever find one like this?”

“The bridge club, she said. I may take the game up myself if this is what the players look like.”

“Well don’t let on to Liz or she’ll be insufferable and she’ll be throwing a new one at my head every night.”

“Settle for this one, you could do a lot worse.”

“I might very well do that.”

There was no hint of duplicity or hidden motives in Tburgood-Smythe’s voice. The Security officer seemed far away. Could it be true, Jan kept asking himself. Has she really been accepted as an Irish girl? Then, perhaps she is one. He must know.

“It’s starting to snow again,” Sara said later, as they were getting their coats. “I do hate to drive in the snow.”

Liz impaled Jan with the sternest of looks while her husband, in the background, rolled his eyes heavenward and grinned.

“The roads aren’t bad yet,” Jan said weakly.

“But they’ll only get worse,” Liz insisted, and went so far as to jab her elbow into his ribs when Sara faced away. “This is no night for a girl to drive alone.” Her gaze, when it rested on Jan, would have frozen a pail of water.

“No, of course you’re right,” he hurried to say. “Orla, perhaps I can drive you?”

“I don’t want to take you out of your way…

“Not a problem,” Thurgood-Smythe said. “He’s no more than five minutes from the West End. And I’ll have one of my drivers bring the car around to your club in the morning.”

“Then it’s all set,” Liz said, smiling her warmest. “So you needn’t worry about the drive at all.”

Jan made his good-byes, kissed his sister affectionately, then went to get the car. While the heater took the chill off the interior he scrawled a quick note and palmed it. Sara was waiting at the front door and he held the door open for her, handing her the note as she came in. She had just enough time to read the two words there before the courtesy light went out. CAR BUGGED. As soon as they were out of sight of the house she nodded agreement.

“‘Where can I take you, Orla?” he asked.

“I really am sorry to make you go out of your way. It’s the Irish Club in Belgravia, a bit of the ould sod abroad as people say. I always stay there when I’m in London. It’s not really grand, but very homey. With a friendly little bar. They do a lovely hot whiskey, Irish whiskey of course.”

“Of course. I can’t say I ever had any.”

“Then you must try. You will come in, won’t you? Just for a few minutes. It’s not really late yet.”

This innocent invitation was driven home by a firm nod of her head and a slow and languid wink.

“‘Well, perhaps for a few minutes. It’s nice of you to ask.”

The conversation continued in this same light vein as he drove down the nearly empty Finchley Road and into Marble Arch. She gave him instructions; the club was easy enough to find. He parked just in front of the entrance and they entered, brushing melting snow from their coats. Except for one other couple they had the bar to themselves. While the waitress took the drink order Sara wrote on the back of the note he had given her earlier. He looked at it as soon as the girl turned away.

STILL SOUND BUGGED. ACCEPT INVITATION TO COME TO MY ROOM. LEAVE ALL YOUR CLOTHES IN BATHROOM THERE.

He raised his eyebrows high at the invitation and Sara smiled and stuck her tongue out at him in mock anger. While they talked he shredded the note in his pocket.

The hot whiskies were very good, their play-acting seduction even better. No, he didn’t think her bold, yes people would misunderstand if they went to the room together. Right, he would go first with the key and leave the door unlocked.

In her room the curtains were closed and the bed turned back temptingly. He undressed in the bathroom as he had been instructed and found a heavy terry cloth bathrobe behind the door which he put on. Sara came in and he heard her lock the hall door. She had her fingers to her lips when he came out, and did not talk until she had closed the bathroom door behind him and turned on the radio.

“Sit down here and keep your voice low. You know that you are under Security surveillance?”

“Yes, of course.”