The Sandler Inquiry Part 32

"Why?"

"You're hesitating" she said.

"I'm afraid you're going to drop my case."

"Jesus," he thought to himself. Here he was half scared of her.

And now she was upset that she'd be dropped as a client.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I've trusted you this far. I've trusted you with my story, with my claim, practically with my life. I was speaking rashly before. I was upset" Her hands were folded in her lap.

The thin nightgown, one of Andrea's, clung snugly to her legs and body.

"I don't want to start all over with someone else," she said.

"I.

want you to continue."

She sat sideways to him. He could see the nightgown's low neckline.

Her face in the soft light was even more delicate and alluring than it was by day. He knew he was being manipulated. She established eye-to-eye contact, but he broke away from it, looking down her trim arms to where the hands and fingers were folded in her lap.

"That telephone call earlier," she said.

"It concerned me, didn't it?"

He didn't speak.

"The truth," she said evenly.

"Yes ' "You don't trust me anymore, do you?" she asked.

"You think there's something wrong."

"I took your case for two reasons," he said softly.

"One, I needed money. Two, I believed you. I believe in simple justice under the law, you see" His smile was pained.

"You appeared with a credible, interesting Story. You had been wronged. You had doc.u.mented proof and a certain amount of apparent sincerity. I felt you deserved your day in court."

"But something has changed she observed.

"Why are your fingerprints in Washington?"

For a moment her eyes were angry. But they softened quickly.

She calmed herself. Her body was motionless. The question hung in the air.

"How long have you been checking on me?" she asked.

"From the start?"

"I do background on all my clients' he said.

"You believe in simple justice and 'the honor of the individual" she said, mocking slightly.

"But with a security probe tossed in For good measure" "I'd feel a lot better if you'd answer my question" "Beneath it all, you're as cynical as the next man." She looked away.

"But you do deserve an answer."

"I'm waiting" Again there was a pause.

"My father," she said.

"I'm afraid nothing's obvious ' "Arthur Sandler was a spy. You've confirmed that for yourself.

He's still alive and he still knows the proper people in United States intelligence. He doesn't want me alive," she said bitterly

"Of course my fingerprints are on file somewhere. And if you've been good enough to trigger that central computer, it's only a matter of time before my father comes looking for me again' "If you're claiming his estate, it's only a matter of time anyway."

"True," she said. She fell silent, reflective.

"Consider Arthur Sandler. For every minute of his life that you've been able to account for already, he's wielded power. Every day, from every angle.

In whatever ident.i.ty he has now, he knows I'm the one person who might give him away. Do you need any further explanation of why my fingerprints would be on file?"

Gently, with a certain defensiveness, she was resting her case, leaving her story open to his judgment. She waited for a reply.

"What I need" he said slowly, 'are photocopies of your doc.u.ments. Your birth certificate. The marriage certificate. May I?"

She broke into the first natural, calm smile he'd seen from her.

"All right," she said, and nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm going to disappear for a few days. I want to build a case for you. Will you be able to take care of yourself for a week?"

"I've taken care of myself for over twenty years" she said.

Her self-a.s.surance was back. Theyd reached an understanding.

She looked at him for a moment, then, in her excitement, leaned toward him. She embraced him as a friend would, then slowly she felt his strong arms around her shoulders. Her own arms responded in the same manner. She pulled away from him slightly.

I.

"I'm glad we finally trust each other," she said.

"It was lonely in the next room " Understanding, yet mystified, he watched her as she stood up for a moment. Gracefully she reached to the front of the nightgown.