“I’m sorry you must go,” said Willy. “We should see each other more often. Perhaps next Saturday. I’m leaving again tomorrow, but I’ll be back Thursday or Friday.”

I stood and smoothed my pants and shirt. “That sounds great. Thank you for the drink.”

Willy yawned, then wandered off into the flat. Sushmita saw me to the door. Her eyes were more intense than I’d ever seen them. Clearly, I hadn’t misunderstood what had been in the offing when I accepted her invitation to come up to the penthouse.

“We must be more careful,” she whispered.

“When will I see you again?”

“Danny, darling. Go to bed.”

She looked over her shoulder, perhaps for Willy or Sandip. Then, sure of our safety, she put her right palm on my heart and pushed me gently away. “Go to bed, Danny,” she repeated. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SUNDAY, JULY 6, 1975, 11:17 A.M.

After a grueling, hot five miles, I bathed and lay down in my bed, wondering if Willy had left yet. My stomach was rumbling, but there was nothing to eat in the flat, so I resigned myself to wait for Sushmita to reach out to me. Finally, around five, after checking the door for messages, I let myself out and crossed the road to the President. The roast chicken was tasty.

“Hello, friend.” It was Harlan. He took a seat opposite me. “All alone? Where’s your girl, Sassmulla?”

“Leave me alone,” I said, unwilling to play his games.

“Sorry,” he said, making himself at home. “But you mustn’t fret about her. You’re a young man. There’ll be others.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s taken, isn’t she? Move on. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”

“Russ, please. I’m fine. Just hungry.”

Harlan got all serious and leaned in closer to talk. He folded his hands and drew a breath. “I worry about you, Dan.”

“Worry about me? Why?”

“Is that girl worth it?”

I glared at him, and he held up his hands in defense.

“I get it, she’s real pretty. But that’s not everything. Take Barb, my wife. Not a beauty. No one ever accused her of that. But she’s a good gal. I met her at a church social when I was seventeen. You should look for a girl like that.”

“Russ, now is not the time to convert me.”

He reached across the table, patted me on the shoulder, and said he understood. For the next two minutes he held his tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” he said finally. He didn’t wait for my answer. “If she’s not your girl, why do you torture yourself so by hanging around her? I mean, she’s got a boyfriend, doesn’t she?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You fell in love with Barb at a church social. I’ve never been to church. To temple a few times.”