The Saboteurs (Men at War 5)

Fulmar shook his head. “Looks like you have.”

“How about a steak sandwich? The ones they make here are first-class.” He gestured toward the plate on the room service cart. “That was my second one.”

“Today?”

“No, I had the first one in the bar last night.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Canidy nodded and went to the phone and dialed room service.

“Hello? That sandwich you sent up to six-oh-one?—

“Yes, it was fine—

“No, really. I’d like another sent up, please. Yes. What?”

Canidy looked at Fulmar, pointed at the coffee cup and raised an eyebrow.

Fulmar nodded.

“Yes,” Canidy said into the receiver, “and another pot of coffee. Thank you.”

As he put the receiver back in its cradle, he saw that Fulmar was looking over a British Admiralty chart and the library books.

“Those,” Canidy said with a smile, “are part of what brought back feelings of our dear ol’ boarding school days.”

Fulmar picked up the duck call and held it up to Canidy, who shrugged sheepishly.

“It was on sale….”

Fulmar put it to his lips and blew. The reed vibrated a miserable quaaack sound.

“Sounds like that duck deserves to be shot,” Canidy said, “put out of its misery.”

Fulmar chuckled, then put the duck call back on the coffee table and picked up one of the dusty books and opened it.

He saw that inside the front cover there was glued a tan-colored pouch. It held a stiff card five inches tall and three wide with NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY printed at the top and typewritten just below that the book’s title—“Of Wine and Roses: A Lover’s Tour of Sicily”—and then the author—“Sir Barry Brown”—and then a list of a dozen or so borrowers’ names with chronological due dates that had been made by an adjustable rubber stamp, the most recent entry being MAR 04 38. And in long-faded red ink, stamped at least three times on the first four pages and the inside back cover: PROPERTY OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY SYSTEM.

He picked up the next book in the stack, opened the front cover, and saw that it also had a similar card still in its tan pouch.

“Lose your library card, did you?”

Canidy shrugged.

“Like at St. Paul’s, I intend on returning them.” He paused. “Eventually, anyway.”

“Well, now I don’t have to guess where you’re going.”

Canidy raised his eyebrows. “And now I can honestly say that I didn’t tell you.”

“Sicily? What the hell, Dick?”

“Boss’s orders.”

Fulmar sighed. “Yeah, I’ve got mine, too.”

They looked at each other a long moment.