6

JAKE HAD NOWHERE TO GO, HE HAD NOTHING TO DO, but he was being paid a ransom to endure his idleness. An illicit ransom, he allowed, cunningly banked abroad.

One day you’ll be proud of me, he had once told Issy Hersh. I’m going to be a famous film director.

Don’t shoot me the crap, his father had protested. You want me to be proud? Earn a living. Stand on your own two feet.

Go know, Daddy. Go know.

Jake read, he took Nancy to the movies in the afternoon, and he awakened to light up in the middle of the night, anticipating the long-distance call that would tell him his father had died. Jake wrote to Hanna, telling her about his trip to Israel, saying how he had also sought the Horseman in Gehenna, admitting that once more he had eluded him. He rearranged his library, he put all his back issues of Encounter in chronological order. He bought and labeled a steel filing cabinet and weeded the garden.

Jake was sorting papers when the doorbell rang. The small, sneering stranger introduced himself as Mrs. Flam’s fiancé.

“Would you care for a drink?” Jake asked.

“It’s too early in the day for me.”

Jake poured himself a gin and tonic. Harry Stein blew his nose and looked around stealthily, taking in everything in the living room. The rug from Casa Pupo, the winged armchair from Heal’s. The kitchen door was ajar and he could see the large gleaming refrigerator. “Nice,” he said. “Very nice.”

Jake did not go into the kitchen for ice cubes, but decided to have his drink warm.

“Ruthy would fancy a place like this, but she can’t afford it. Between you Yanks and Rachmanism, the rents have been forced up everywhere.”

“Are you looking for a house, then?”

Harry smiled.

“You wouldn’t like to rent it for the summer? I think we’re going to Spain.”

“Dollars for Franco,” Harry said, jubilant.

Screw you, Jake thought, and he went to fetch some ice cubes after all.

“Do you know how many political prisoners are still rotting in Franco’s dungeons?”

“I’m a fascist.”

“Don’t try to take the micky out of me.”

“What do you want, Harry?”

“Hear that plane going over? It’s American.”

“I’m a Canadian.”

“They fly overhead day and night with nuclear bombs in the hatch. One has already gone down in Greenland and another in Spain …”

“Do you think NW3 is next?”

“You’re a very humorous chap.”

“Look, Harry, I read the New Statesman too. Now what is it you want?”

Harry lit a cigarette, replacing the spent match in the box. “Are you going to charge your holiday to expenses?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m on P.A.Y.E., taxed at source. Make thirty-five a week, take home twenty-six. What about you?”

“None of your business. Now what is it you want?”

“The seven hundred nicker.”

“You must be crazy.”

“Simply tell your cousin –”

“I’ve already told Ruthy I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t know where he is, either.”

“I dispute that.”

“You what?”

“I could turn this matter over to my solicitors.”

“For collection?”

“You realize, I hope, that in this country aiding and abetting a fiddle is as serious as committing one.”

“O.K. Sue me.”

“On the other hand, if you were prepared to settle the debt –”

“It’s no go, Harry. Even if I were willing to pay Joey’s debt, I couldn’t spare the money at the moment.”

“Why not dip into the numbered Swiss account?”

“What if I was broke?”

“We have different standards of being broke. Wouldn’t you concur?”

“Yes, I suppose I would.”

“Ruthy stands on her feet all day, nine to five. She’s getting varicose veins. She’s up at seven every morning, don’t you know? Washes and feeds the kiddies, dumps ’em in a council nursery, and doesn’t see them again until she gets home. Nights she has to drag her things to the laundromat. You own a washing machine here?”

“Which’s Best Buy. We’ve also got a housekeeper.”

“Nice. Very nice.”

“I think so. Well,” Jake said, looking at his watch.

“Is that your final word, then? You won’t honor your cousin’s debt?”

Jake nodded.

“You don’t remember having met me before, do you?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Not to worry. Very few people notice me. I’m used to it, don’t you know?”

But even then Harry hesitated at the door.

“You say you haven’t got the money, Mr. Hersh, and that even if you so desired you couldn’t spare it. A pity, that. For is it not a fact that at the moment you are being paid more monthly not to work than I take home in a year?”

“Who told you that?”

“I put it to you that you have lied to me.”

“Where have we met before, Harry?”

“I take it you are implying that we couldn’t possibly move in the same circles.”

“Inferring.”

Harry’s cheeks bled red.

“Now tell me how come you know – or think you know – about my private affairs?”

“If you lied to me about that, I say you are prevaricating about your cousin. You know the present abode of Joseph Hersh. Or de la Hirsch. And you are protecting him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was only after Harry had left that Jake noticed the large round hole burned into the fabric of the new winged armchair from Heal’s. Why, the bastard, Jake thought, with sneaking admiration, he did it on purpose.

St. Urbain's Horseman
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