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WALTZ
NIGHT
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taxi pulled up the driveway to a rambling white house
in Georgetown. One side was partly hidden by an overgrowth
of rhododendron bushes. Attached to the other side was
a semi- circular Victorian-style greenhouse. "Professors
live well here in Washington," Foxx thought, as he helped
Tina out.
Tracy and his aristocratic-looking wife, Evangeline, were
waiting at the door to greet them. Bronson wore a splendidly-cut
black tuxedo, silk cummerbund and jeweled studs, Evangeline,
a white silk gown, white shoes and a white shawl. Everyone
else in the room was also in black and white formal attire.
Looking around, Foxx realized he had misunderstood the
invitation, thinking a Black and White Ball referred to
a tribute to the Civil Rights movenent. Tracy introduced
Foxx to Evangeline as the "visiting professor from Harvard
who has been so helpful." Turning to Tina, he said "you
must be the art historian ...?" "Tina Winchester," Foxx
filled in the blank. Tina gave Tracy an enchanting smile
as he helped her off with her coat and handed it to a
Filipino servant. Tina was wearing a silky green taffeta
dress that left her shoulders bare. Her freshly dried
hair flowed down her back. Foxx threw his own coat over
the man's outstretched arm. He felt a bit shabby in the
inexpensive tuxedo he had rented for the occasion in Harvard.
It did not even have a silk cummerbund. Tracy took Tina
by the arm towards the greenhouse where the music was
coming from. "About time someone revived the Viennese
waltz," Tracy said, gracefully handing Tina a champagne.
"We just don't know the meaning of romance anymore,"
Foxx followed them closely, stopping only to grab a glass
of champagne from a passing waiter. He didn't want to
let Tina slip away. They plunged into semi-darkness as
they entered the greenhouse that had been converted into
a ballroom for the evening. It was lit only by candle
lights on silver candelabra. As Foxx's eyes gradually
adjusted to the flickering light, he could dimly discern
black-suited men whirling white gowned women around a
circular dance floor. On a platform, a string ensemble
played a Strauss waltz. Foxx's arm was suddenly caught
in an unshakeable grip, "Just a moment Foxxy," Kim Roosevelt
said, tenaciously pulling him into a recess. "I gotta
admit, I never thought the king's flight would work, but
it proved to be the winning move." As Foxx watched Tina
and Tracy fade away into the Black and White crowd, Roosevelt
made expansive gestures, his arms flapping up and down.
like a penguin's, each time he wanted to emphasis a point.
As he excitedly rehashed the the crucial moves in the
third round that they had played out that afternoon, Foxx
thought he had drunk too much champagne. "Not sure where
Tony is going with this," Roosevelt said, looking across
the room. Foxx caught a glimpse of Tina's whirling green
dress the only vivid color on the dance floor. It appeared
and disappeared, like Tina herself in his life. He wondered
who she was dancing with. "Top rater, but, between us,
be a little war." "Of who?" Foxx could not follow Roosevelt's
lurching train of thought. "Tony. These Brits are as
smooth as they come, But take it from me. They have their
own agenda when it comes to that part of the world."
Foxx was not sure to which part of the world he was referring
but he was certain it wasn't Zemblia. Recalling Roosevelt's
monograph about the Levant, he guessed."The Middle East?"
"Tricky place. These Brits almost edged us out of Arabia
in 1945. The British ambassador there tried to rrump us.
He showed King Saud a raunchy photograph of Americans,
part of an oil drilling crew, playing a coed game of strip
poker in Dahrain. Everything forbidden by the Koran Alcohol,
unveiled women, cigarettes, and in his domain." Roosevelt
exchanged his empty champagne glass for a full one from
a passing waiter. "King Saud must have been over seventy
then," Roosevelt continued, drinking as he spoke. "He
was blind in one eye, and lame in one foot, but still
Lord of his Desert. He rode alone all night to Dahrain.
When he got there, roaring around on a horse, his sword
flailing the air, he demanded to see the American President.
The oil operation was shut down, and the Brits were licking
their chops. I told Uncle Franklin how much we had to
lose if we got kicked out of Arabia." Foxx realized he
"Uncle Franklin" was FDR. "I got to give Franklin credit
here, even though he's from the democrat side of our family.
He knew how important that Arabian crude was to America.
He invited King Saud to meet him on the U.S.S. Quincy,
which was in the Red Sea. Saud brought his entire harem
with him, , as well as his coffee-servers, cooks, and
Nubian slaves. He also brought a menagerie of goats and
lamb since he refused to eat 'dead meat' for lunch. At
the end of the feast, he gave Franklin a jeweled sword,
and Franklin gave him, at my suggestion, his spare wheelchair.
Saud accepted it as a token of respect and, we got Saudi's
crude." "And what did the Brits get?," Foxx asked, picking
up Roosevelt's lingo. "Iran. We rattled our A-bomb a few
times and the Russians high-tailed it out of northern
Iran, leaving the Brits with the oil fields there. Don't
say that in your course at Harvard, Foxxy, students don't
need to know about oil politics..." He didn't finish his
sentence. Spotting a white- haired man entering the room,
who wheeled around and rushed towards him. The white-haired
man, who resembled a Mr. Chips-type schoolmaster, looked
familiar to Foxx. He had recently seen his photograph
in the newspaper. But his interest now was finding Tina.
"Were you a student of Professor Foxx," Tracy probed,
as he guided Tina into a dip that revealed a faded sun
tan line on her breasts. "No, but my younger sister was
his tutee. That was how we met." "Ah, the liaison," Tracy
thought, moving her around. He could now see that Roosevelt
was chatting his guest of honor. "Is your sister still
at Harvard?" "At the moment, she is exploring the land
of Omar Khayamm..." "Iran?" "Iran," she smiled, unable
to resist, "or, as it known in secret circles, Zemblia."
Tracy froze in his steps, even before the music stopped.
His jaw began trembling, his eye pupils contracting,
Raven was moving purposefully in the direction of Kim
Roosevelt and Allan Dulles when he spotted Chris on the
dance floor. "What the hell is she doing here," he thought,
changing direction, and headed for her. Foxx instantly
recognized the green taffeta. Tina was standing on the
edge of the floor with Tracy. There was an odd look on
Tracy's face, an enigmatic smile on Tina's face. Getting
closer, he saw Tony, the man from London without a surname,
bearing down on the pair. "Chris," Tony shouted, grabbing
her hand. "Tina," Foxx said, taking her other hand.
Tracy twitched "You're ...?" "Christina," she answered,
explaining her bifurcated name. "My sister insists on
calling me Tina. My clients at Christie's like to call
me Chris. It helps them remember." Turning to Foxx,
she said " Have you met Sir Anthony Raven?" "We've met,"
all three men answered simultaneously. They all were fixed
on Christina, digesting the situation. Raven knew that
Chris possessed his secrets. She had overheard him planning
the overthrow of Mossadeq and then, in his lust for her,
he had told her even more. He asked himself " Had she
already divulged his secrets to Professor Foxx? If so,
Foxx knew too much?" Then he had an even more disturbing
thought. He recalled the curious way that the Gulbenkians
had foistered Chris on him, knowing no doubt his weakness
for young women. Could Chris be a penetration agent?
Tracy was also thinking hard, "Foxx must have told Tina
details about the Game of Nations," he thought. "How else
would she know about Zemblia? But how did she know Zemblia
was Iran? Did Foxx know more than he let on? What the
hell was Tina's sister doing in Iran? Could she be an
Iranian agent? And why was she wearing a green dress at
a Black and White ball?" The whole operation suddenly
seemed to him dangerously insecure. Foxx realized that
Tina had learned something from Raven in London. That
explained why she had been so confident in the Blue Parrot
that chromium was a cover for crude and Zemblia was a
codename for Iran. But why would Raven, who was such a
discrete man he had kept secret his surname through the
entire third round, divulge his secrets to an art consultant?
Or was she really an art consultant? He recalled her use
of the term "spy craft" in the Blue Parrot and her offer
to give him a remedial course in it. Had she been sent
to test him? Was she a Mata Hari? "I'm famished, Christina
said, not taking any notice of the odd way all three men
were looking at her. Men often looked at her in odd ways..
The music started up again. It was the Blue Danube.
"My dance," the still flummoxed Foxx said, whisking her
back on the floor. Spy or no Spy, he wanted her firmly
in his arms. They circled the dance floor, his eyes following
Raven and Tracy as they approached the Mr. Chips look-alike
still talking with Roosevelt. He pressed her into a deep
dip. "You knew Raven in London?" "In a sense" she said
tactfully. There was no need for her to tell him in what
sense she knew Raven. That still pained and confused her.
"He was a friend of a client." "In the oil business?,"
he asked, pulling her back up. "Tony works for Anglo-Iranian
and other oil companies. He also shoots lots of birds."
"He told you about Iran?" "He told me his secret," she
smiled, flipping her hair back. "I warned him that even
though I could keep a secret, the people I told it to
couldn't be trusted." "So you told me about Iran." He
spun her around. Mr. Chips was looking in his direction.
Their eyes met and he recognized him from the photo in
the Washington Post. Allan Dulles, the newly appointed
director of the CIA, the brother of Eisenhower's secretary
Of State. "You didn't believe me. Men never do." Tina
brought her head to his, so she could whisper in his ear.
She knew how much it excited him. The pieces in the puzzle
were now all coming together. Tracy, The Gaminng Center.
Kim Roosevelt. Dulles. It was the State Department he
was consulting for, it was the CIA. Raven represented
British interests. They were using him to plan a coup
d'etat in Iran. Eureka. "I got it," he said "Obviously."
She pressed her body tightly into his body, her teeth
nibbling on his ear. "Let's get out of here before I devour
you, tux and all." On their way out, Tina reached through
the cue at the buffet table and snatched an enormous Turkey
drumstick, which she slipped into Foxx's jacket pocket..
She calculated she would need something, other than Foxx,
to munch on during the long ride back to the Hay- Adams
Hotel. |
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