* * *
“Who’s Caesar?” Fuller said.
He looked at Canidy, who had turned his back to him and was looking out the bedroom window.
Fuller wasn’t certain but he thought he saw Canidy’s body shake. And then he heard Canidy clear his throat as Canidy looked at the message again.
“I’ll explain later,” Canidy said after a moment in an odd, strained tone. “Acknowledge receipt, then take it down.”
Fuller nodded, and put the cans back on his ears.
At least now I can think about Ann without choking up, Canidy thought as he and Fuller came to the railway station they had passed earlier.
He found himself smiling.
And smile about her.
But I need to pay attention to what’s here and now.
I’m anxious, I know.
And with so many things that can go wrong, I have to keep my nerves controlled and my attention focused.
Canidy and Fuller then walked north a few blocks and found Quinta Casa street, then took it downhill toward the port.
There were more people out on the streets and in every piazza. But their mood was somber; despite the clear sunny sky, it seemed a dark cloud hung heavily over them.
Small wonder, Canidy thought.
A couple ripe bodies swinging by the neck in the bright sun can cause that kind of oppressive effect.
Canidy and Fuller tried to blend in. They wore the civilian clothing from the OSS villa in Algiers. Fuller had on a woolen stocking cap; Canidy had insisted he cover the bright blond hair that would stand out among the darker tones of the Sicilians. They kept their gaze downward, avoiding eye contact. And they stayed silent.
As they passed an alleyway, Canidy tapped Fuller on the shoulder and motioned toward it.
They wound their way back into the alley, and when Canidy saw that they were far enough out of sight and earshot of the street they stopped.
“What is it?” Fuller said.
“I meant to mention this earlier but either forgot or, when I remembered, we weren’t alone.”
Fuller raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Look, Tubes, I’ve got to be brutally honest with you. I don’t know how safe this situation is.” He paused. “More to the point, I should say, I don’t know how off-the-deep-end dangerous this situation is.”
Fuller reached into an outer pocket of his coat. He pulled out the pouch with the squirming mice in it.
“So far, Adolf and Eva say we’re good.”
“No, Tubes. Not about the gas, though that’s still unanswered. Only thing we know about that is that there weren’t mass casualties. There’re no signs of deaths by gas. And the people we see don’t exhibit any signs of being sick from it.”
“Then what?” Fuller said, carefully returning the pouch to his pocket.
“For all I know, Tubes, we could be walking into an ambush, a setup, something that could fuck us up no end. While our luck with these Guinea sons of bitches has held so far, I do not trust them any farther than I can throw them.”
Fuller nodded as he absorbed that.
“And you’re thinking now—?”