He got as far as the bathroom door before returning to the bed. He put the captain’s jacket back into the closet and tossed the Ike jacket with civilian triangles he had been wearing all day onto the bed.
He was standing naked in front of the sink several minutes later wiping shaving cream from his face when Rachel came in.
“Why do I think you knew I wasn’t going to wait for you in the bar?”
“Because you know I know you take chances you shouldn’t take?”
She walked up to him and put her hand on him and then pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him lewdly for a moment, then pulled away.
“That’s what you’re not going to get,” she said, “because you were flying your damned Russian around all day and not paying attention to me.”
Then she walked out of the bathroom.
He finished wiping the shaving cream off his face and put on his underwear before going back into the bedroom. She was sitting in an armchair, her legs crossed and showing—he was sure intentionally—a good deal of leg.
“Well, are you going to say you’re sorry?” she asked.
“For what?”
“You know for what. I spent all day waiting to just hear from you.”
“What was I supposed to do, Rachel, call your room?”
“Why not?”
“‘Colonel Schumann, this is Cronley. Can I speak with your wife?’ Come on, Rachel.”
“Tony went to Vienna. You knew that.”
“I didn’t.”
“On the phone just now you knew.”
“Hessinger had just told me.”
She considered that.
“I spent all day waiting for you to call.”
“I’m sorry. Frade wanted me to fly him to Frankfurt. I flew him to Frankfurt. I waited for him and the admiral to take off. He took off. I came back here. The defense rests.”
“I believe you,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Not necessary.”
“You want to know how sorry I am?”
“You’re going to slash your wrists?”
“Come here.”
He walked closer to her. She sat forward in the armchair.
“Closer,” she ordered. “I’m sorry I thought you spent all day with that Russian.”
She put her hand to his shorts, pushed them aside, and took him into her mouth.
Some time later, she tucked it back in.