Sins of the Flesh Read Free

Reuben.”
    When Daniel replaced the phone, the sound of the rain beating across the roof in windy spurts enclosed him. He made a mental note to get together with Reuben as soon as possible. It had been too long.
    As he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, Daniel went over their conversation and acknowledged a certain amount of relief. He peeked into Nellie’s room and found her sleeping soundly. It wasn’t until he settled himself in bed that it occurred to him to wonder if his wife was all right. For all his nervousness and worry, he’d not once considered her as the possible cause of his uneasiness. Carefully he rearranged the pillow behind his head and turned on his side, toward his wife’s side of the bed. The sight of the tidy, unused space didn’t elicit any feeling at all in Daniel. Rajean could take care of herself, as she was fond of informing him.
    Forty-five minutes later Daniel was still awake, the sheets and pillow damp with his perspiration. He couldn’t imagine staring at the shadowy ceiling much longer. Maybe if he got up and took a shower, he’d feel better. The storm was still battering the summer house, which meant Rajean would be out all night. Not that it mattered.
    Daniel had one foot in the shower when the phone jangled. Perhaps it was Reuben, he thought, calling back to see if he had settled down. He picked up the phone, a snappy retort ready, then frowned when he heard the operator’s sleepy voice tell him there was an overseas call for Daniel Bishop. What the hell? No one knew where he was except his answering service and Reuben. “This is Daniel Bishop speaking….”
    â€œVery good, sir, hold for the French operator….”
    â€œJesus Christ! Yes, hello…hello? Speak louder, I can barely hear you. There’s a storm here. Who’s calling, Operator?” A spurt of crackly French came over the wire. “Mickey! My God, Mickey, is that you?”
    â€œDaniel, please, we may be cut off momentarily…Daniel, please, you must come…I need…” Daniel strained to distinguish Mickey’s desperate words from the relentless crackle of overseas static. “Urgent…please…I beg you…we…we need you…not for myself…for…Daniel…you have to get him out…not safe for him…Daniel…speak to me…”
    â€œMickey, what is it?” Daniel shouted. “I can hardly hear you. Take who? Are you all right?” Jesus Christ, of course she wasn’t all right! Germany had invaded France.
    The telephone stabilized, and he heard Mickey’s remembered voice clearly. “You must get Philippe safely to his father….”
    Daniel’s eyes grew wild when he realized the line he held in his hand had gone dead. Desperately he jiggled the hook and tried dialing the operator. But it was no use. “Son of a bitch! ” he roared. He stomped around the room trying to make sense of the phone call. Mickey, after all these years…Memories flooded his brain—all the reasons this woman could still hold a special rock-steady place in his heart. She needed him; she wanted him to go to France. “Jesus Christ” he exploded. “How in hell am I going to get to Europe with a war going on?” Why had Mickey called him and not Reuben? The love they had shared had been remarkable. Reuben would move heaven and earth for Mickey, and she had to know that, but she’d called him instead. Why? And who the hell was Philippe? “Take Philippe to his father,” she’d said. Great. But who was Philippe’s father?
    Philippe…He’d heard the name, and not that long ago. Something to do with Fairmont Studios…Of course! He owned 51 percent of Fairmont’s stock, and Reuben owned the other 49. Bouchet! Philippe Bouchet! That was the name. No one had ever met Bouchet, not even Sol Rosen, Reuben’s father-in-law and the former head of Fairmont