"I don't know."
She looked at her watch.
"I have to get home," she said. "I'll take you with me."
"I'd appreciate it."
I stayed low, so I didn't see exactly where she drove. When she finally stopped and turned off the engine and I rose, I saw that we were in a driveway beside a small cottage.
"Come on."
I got out and followed her in. We entered a small, simple living room, a kitchenette off its left end. She headed toward a closed door to the rear.
"There's whisky in the cabinet," she said, gesturing, "wine on the kitchen counter, beer and sodas in the refrigerator. Have yourself a drink if you want. I'm going to be back here awhile."
She opened the door. I saw that it was the bathroom. She went in and closed it. Moments later, I could hear water running.
I crossed the room and opened the cabinet. I was nervous. I wished I hadn't quit smoking. I closed the cabinet again. Hard liquor might slow me if trouble came. Besides, I'd rather sip. I went to the kitchen and located a beer. I paced with it for a time and finally settled onto the green sofa next to a casually draped serape. The water was still running.
I thought about what I was going to do. It began to rain lightly. I finished the beer and got another. I looked out of all the windows, even those in the bedroom in the rear to the left, but there was no one in sight. After a time, I wanted to use the bathroom, but she was still in there. I wondered what she was doing for so long.
When she finally came out, she wore a blue terrycloth robe that stopped at midcalf. Her hair was turbaned in a white towel. She still had on her dark glasses.
She turned on a radio in the kitchen, found music, came back with a glass of wine and seated herself on the sofa.
"All right," she said, "what do you want to do?"
"I'm leaving tonight," I said.
"When?"
"Twoish."
"How?"
"Fishing boat, heading south."
"You can stay here till then. I'll take you to the dock."
"It's not that simple," I said. "I have to get back to my motel."
"What's so important?"
"Some papers. In a big manila envelope. At the bottom of my suitcase."
"Maybe they've got them already."
"Maybe."
"It's very important?"
"Yes."
"Give me the room key. I'll get them for you."
"I'm not asking you to."
"I'll get them. Make yourself at home. Give me the key."
I fished it out and passed it to her. She nodded and walked back to the bedroom. I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. A little later, she emerged wearing a black skirt, a red blouse and a red scarf. Boots. She drew on her raincoat and moved toward the door. I went to her and embraced her, and she laughed and went out into the rain. I heard the car door slam and the engine start. I felt badly about her going, but I wanted the papers.
I went back to the bathroom. A great number of unlabeled jars filled a section of the countertop. Some of them were open. Several had very peculiar odors which I could not classify, some of them smelled vaguely narcotic. There was also a Bunsen burner, tongs, test tubes and several beakers and flasks - all of them recently rinsed.
I was not certain what I would do if someone followed her back. I felt like a naked matador without a sword. They had been after me for a long while, and there had been many passes. I was not carrying a gun. I had had to go through too many airline security checks recently, and I had not had time to obtain one locally. If I could just make the boat everything would be all right.
I went to the kitchen to check on the coffee. It was ready. I poured a cup and sat to drink it at the table. I listened to the rain.
Perhaps half an hour later, I heard a car in the driveway. I went to the window. It was hers and she appeared to be alone in it.
When she came in, she withdrew the envelope from beneath her coat and handed it to me. She gave me back the key, too.
"Better check and be sure the right stuff is still there," she said. I did, and it was.
"Think they knew which room?" she asked.
"I don't know. They wouldn't recoghize the name. Did he see you go in? Come out?"
"Probably."
"Do you think you might have been followed?"
"I didn't see anybody behind me."
I returned to the window and watched for a time. There was nothing suspicious.
"I don't know how to thank you," I finally said.
"I'm tense again," she said.
We went back to the bedroom and I showed my gratitude for as hard and long as I could. It was still a hands-and-mouth-below-the-neck proposition, but we all have our hangups, and it was certainly wild and interesting country. Afterward, she broiled lamb chops and I tossed a salad. Later, we drank coffee and smoked some small black cigars she had. It was dark by then and the rain had stopped.
Suddenly, she placed her cigar in the ashtray and rose.
"I'm going back to the bathroom, for a time," she said, and she did.
She'd been in there several minutes with the water running when the telephone rang. I didn't know what to do. It could be a boyfriend, a husband, someone who wouldn't like my voice.