Windmills of the Gods

Mike said mildly, “That’s interesting. I’ve been examining his dossier. Your doctor never had a wife or children.”

THEY stopped for lunch at TimiSSoara, on their way up to the Carpathian Mountains. The inn was decorated in the period atmosphere of a medieval wine cellar.

“The specially of the house is gone,” Louis told Mary. “I would suggest the venison.”

“Fine.” she had never eaten venison. It was delicious. There was an air of confidence about Louis, a quiet strength that gave Mary a feeling of security.

After lunch they started out again. They passed farmers driving primitive homemade wagons, and caravans of Gypsies.

Louis was a skillful driver. Mary studied him as he drove. He’s an enemy agent. She did not believe Mike Slade. Every instinct told her he was lying. She trusted Louis. No one could have faked the emotion I saw on his face when he was playing with the children, she thought.

The air was getting noticeably thinner and cooler. The mountains ahead looked like pictures she had seen of the Swiss Alps, their peaks covered by mists and icy clouds the color of steel.

It was late afternoon when they reached their destination, Sio plea, a lovely mountain resort built like a miniature chalet. Their suite had a comfortable living room, simply furnished, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a terrace with a breathtaking view of the mountains.

“For the first time in my life”-Louis sighed-“I wish I were a painter.”

“It is a beautiful view.

He moved closer to her. “No. I wish I could paint you.”

He took her in his arms and held her tightly. She buried her head against his chest, and then Louis’s lips were on hers, and she forgot everything except what was happening to her. He led her to the bed. There was a frantic need in her for someone to reassure her, to protect her, to let her know that she was no longer alone. She needed to be one with him….

After a long, long time they lay contented. She nestled in his strong arms, and they talked.

“It’s so strange,” Louis said. “I feel whole again. Since Renee and the children were killed, I’ve been a ghost, wandering around lost.”

“I’ve felt helpless too. Edward was my umbrella, and when it died and he wasn’t there to protect me, I nearly drowned.”

It was almost perfect. Almost. Because there was a question Mary dared not ask: Did you have a wife and children? The moment she asked that question, she knew everything between them would be over forever. Louis would never forgive her for doubting him. Curse Mike Slade, she thought.

Louis was watching her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, darling.”

Saturday they went on a tram to a mountain peak. In the eyening they drove to Eintrul, a rustic restaurant in the. mountains, where they had dinner in a large room that had an open fireplace mlith a roaring fire. There were hunting trophies on the wall, and through the windows they could look at the snow-covered hills outside. A perfect setting, with the perfect companion.

And finally, too soon, it was time to leave.

As they neared the outskirts of Bucharest they drove by fields of sunflowers, their faces moving toward the sun. That’s me, Mary thought happily. I’m finally moving into the sunlight.

THE next MORNING WHEN MARY arrived at her office, there were a dozen red roses with a note: “Thank you for you.”

Mary read the card. And wondered if Louis had sent flowers to RencSSe. And wondered if there had been a Rent-e and two daughters. And hated herself for it. Why would Mike Slade make up terrible lie like that? There was no way she could ever check it.

And at that moment Eddie Maltz, the political consul and CIA agent, walked into her office.

They spent some time discussing a colonel who had approached Maltz about defecting.

“He’d be a valuable asset for us,” Maltz told her. “He’ll be bringing some useful information with him, but be prepared to receive some heat from lonescu.”

“Thank you, Mr. Maltz.”

He rose to leave.

On a sudden impulse Mary said ‘ “Wait. I wonder if I could ask you for a favor? It’s personal and confidential.”

“Sounds like our motto.” Maltz smiled.

“I need some information on a Dr. Louis Desforges. He’s attached to the French embassy.” This was more difficult than she had imagined. It was a betrayal. “I’d like to know whether Dr. Desforges was once married and had two children. Do you think you could find out?”

“Will twenty-four hours be soon enough?” Maltz asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Please forgive me, Louis.

A short time later Mike Slade walked into Mary’s office and put a cup of coffee on her desk. Something in his attitude seemed subtly changed. Mary was not sure what it was, but she had a feeling that Mike Slade knew all about her weekend. She wondered whether he had spies following her.

She took a sip of the coffee. Excellent, as usual. That’s one thing Mike Slade does well, Mary thought.

“We have some problems,” he said. And for the rest of the morning they became involved in a discussion that included the Remanian financial crisis and a dozen other topics.

At the end of the meeting Mary was more tired than usual.

Mike Slade said, “The ballet is opening tonight. Corina Socoli is dancing.” She was one of the leading ballerinas in the world.

Mary had met her once at a party at the presidential palace. “I have some tickets if you’re interested.”

“No, thanks.” She thought of the last time Mike had given her tickets. Besides, she was dining at the Chinese embassy.