Tanner’s Tiger

Then Arlette came back with color in her cheeks and a glint in her eye and a spring to her step. A few hours of simple inertia had taken more out of me than she had spent ru

“So the socialist revolution appeals to you?”

“Socialism? I spit upon socialism. But does it matter? It is not the nature of revolutionary sentiment that makes the pavilion so exciting. It is the fervor of revolution itself. How dramatically it is portrayed! How the slogans scream at one, how one can hear within one’s head the chatter of machine guns and the roar of the bombs. An inspiration, Evan.”

“When one is in a revolutionary mood, any revolution will do.”

“Precisely.” She lit a Gauloise. “It took me until my third visit to overcome the emotional impact of the pavilion. I was transported, I could barely look for whatever it was that I sought. But then the effect of the displays dissipated for me. I was able to observe dispassionately. I think-”

“Yes?”

“You are right to be suspicious of the Cubans.”

“What are they doing?”

“I do not know.”

“But they’re doing something?”

“I am sure of it.” She drew on her cigarette. “I ca

“No. I know what you mean.”

“But I did not actually see anything. Do you understand?” She hung her head. “I have found out nothing, in truth. Oh, Evan, I am worried about the girl, the poor little thing. It is not a good place to disappear, that pavilion. I sense it, I feel it. Of all the places where one might vanish, that is the last one I personally would select.”

I turned from her and walked to the window. It opened on an alleyway. I looked at the blank wall of the building opposite. I seemed to be looking at any number of blank walls lately, I thought. I cursed the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and I cursed Canadian Immigration and Customs and I saved special curses for the immortal soul of Jerzy Pryzeshweski. Mi

“You met with Emile, Evan?”

“Yes.”

“How did the pla

I gave her a quick rundown on the ambush plans, and she listened more carefully than I spoke, because her heart was in it and mine was not. When I finished, we fell into a listless silence. She took a turn looking out the window, and I went over to the bed and stretched out on it. She came to me, lay down beside me. I did not kiss her.

“My poor Evan.”

“That’s where she disappeared, there’s no question about it. At that damned showplace of the revolution.”

“Cherished one.”

“And she wasn’t lost or strayed. She was stolen. I wonder.”

“What?”

I sat up. “Well, maybe they just like to kidnap people. Maybe that’s it. It’s an ideal setup for it, I suppose. A constant stream of visitors. They can single out the ones who seem to be alone and presumably won’t be missed. But-”

“But what?”

“But why?” I said. “Hell.” I got to my feet. “If we could both go there,” I said. “No, that’s out.”

“Why both of us?”

“One in front and one at the rear. One to count everyone entering the Cuban building and the other to count everyone leaving it. If more people go in than come out-”

“I see.”

“But it would be risky. In order to come up with anything remotely conclusive, we would have to stay at our posts for hours. Even if the police weren’t after me, I don’t think I could stay in one spot for that much time without someone noticing.”

“It would be difficult,” she admitted.

“You’d need a couple of people with a reason for being there. Ice cream vendors, something like that. But the concessions are too rigidly controlled, and an ice cream seller would be too busy selling ice cream anyway to keep an accurate count. I don’t see-”

“I have it.”

“What?”

“The boys.”

“Jean and Jacques?” I gri

“Not them. Seth and Randolph.”

“I don’t remember them.”

“You do not know them. They are not of the movement. They are Americans, like yourself. They-”

“It might not be a good idea to bring in any Americans, Arlette.”

“But they are different. They are – how do you call it? They run from the cold.”

“Huh?”

“Pardon. From the draft, the conscription.”

“Draft-dodgers?”

“But certainly.” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “They are idealists, but of course, and very young and very sweet.”

“You know them rather well, Arlette.”

“But yes,” she said, and glanced involuntarily at the bed.

“Both of them?”

“They are my very fine friends.”

“Joan of Arc.”

“Ah, but it is only you I love, Evan.” She tucked her arm in mine. “I will call them. They will be perfect, I know they will. They can remain in one spot for hours and no one will pay them the slightest bit of attention. Better than the sellers of ice cream.”

“How?”

“You will see.”

She made a telephone call, telling the boys to come at once and bring their signs. I didn’t know what that meant, but before long they appeared and I found out.

Seth, the taller of the two, had brooding eyes and a full red beard. Randolph had shoulder-length hair and a scraggly mustache. And each wore a sign, sandwich-board affairs that covered them front and back from their shoulders to their knees. Randolph ’s sign said, Hey, hey, LJB, How Many Kids Did You Kill Today? Seth’s read, God Damn, Uncle Sam, Bring The Boys Home From Vietnam!

“I see what you mean,” I told Arlette. “Perfectly inconspicuous. Who would give them a second glance?”

Chapter 9

Around nine o’clock that night Seth and Randolph came to Arlette’s place a second time. They had disposed of the sandwich boards this time, and brought instead a paper sack of smoked meat sandwiches and a large bottle of Alsatian wine. We talked between bites and gulps, and by the time the food and wine was gone, I had the story.

The Cubans were stealing people.

They couldn’t tell me why, and I couldn’t guess, but the fact remained that in a period of some four hours eight more persons had entered the Cuban Pavilion than had left it. The two draft-dodgers had equipped themselves with hand-counters, made sure they started and finished at the same time, and were absolutely certain of their tally. They had no way of knowing who those missing eight persons were, whether they might be male or female, young or old, Canadian or American or whatever. But eight had gone in who had not come out, and that was what I had wanted to find out. Mi

And, presumably, tucking them away somewhere inside their blasted pavilion.

“You did good work,” I told the two. “I’m very grateful.”

“No sweat,” Seth said.

“We go out there all the time anyway,” Randolph put in. “With our signs, and like that. You can stand in one spot until the world freezes and nobody makes any waves. We’re like part of the scenery.”