Betrayal

Nolan and Tara had ordered one of these when they sat down and then had another with their dinner. Their relaxed sightseeing and later the intense conversations had drawn them closer somehow and blurred the distinction between date and nondate, and by the time the waiter cleared the dinner trays and left them the check, Nolan was beginning to let himself consider the possibility that this incredible woman might like something in him after all. Clearly, Tara had an ambiguous commitment, at best, to Evan Scholler, and she seemed to be enjoying his company-laughing, teasing, drinking. Not quite outright flirting, certainly not coming on to him overtly, but giving him a lot of her time and attention, her foot nowhere near the brakes. His personal code of honor regarding a fellow warrior wouldn't permit him to pursue her if she claimed any sort of allegiance to Evan, but she'd rather definitively avoided that, and if she responded to one of his overtures later, then that would be a clear answer in itself.

Nolan had known that they had valet parking at Trader Vic's, but as a general rule he wasn't too comfortable letting valet attendants get behind the wheel of his Corvette. So, keeping his eyes open, a few blocks before they'd reached the restaurant, he had spied a miraculous section of free curb and he'd pulled into it without much thought. It had still been warm, with a certain softness to the dusk light, and walking a few extra blocks with Tara had seemed both natural and appealing.

Now, outside, it had grown dark. In typical San Francisco summer fashion, the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in the past two hours and a chill, biting wind off the Pacific was scouring the dust off the streets and making the very air gritty. They were on Golden Gate Avenue, an east-west street that funneled the blow and intensified the unpleasantness.

Tara said, "How'd it get this nasty this fast?"

"The city got the patent on this weather back in the Forty-Niner days. It was supposed to keep out the riffraff. I don't think it's worked too well, but they've kept it up. Why don't you go back inside and I'll get the car and come back for you?"

"We don't have to do that. It's not that far. I can take it."

"You're not too cold?" Tara was wearing sandals and shorts and a T-shirt with the midriff showing- California summer gear. Now ridiculously inappropriate.

But she just laughed. "It's only a few blocks. It's invigorating, don't you think?"

Nolan, in civilian shoes, khaki-colored Dockers, and a Tommy Bahama silk shirt, nodded and said, "Invigorating. Good word. You sure?"

"Let's go."

At the first corner they hit, Polk Street, they stopped at the curb for the light. He noticed that her teeth were beginning to chatter. "It's closer going back to Trader Vic's than it is to the car. You're sure you don't want to do that?"

"You think I'm that much of a wimp?"

"I never said that. But you do seem cold."

"I'll be fine. Promise."

"Okay, then." He put his arm around her. "This is for warmth only," he told her. "Don't get any ideas."

Perhaps a little tipsy, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned slightly into him. "Warmth is good," she said, then added, "Come on, light, come on."

But just then, before the light changed, a break in the traffic opened up, and taking her hand, he squeezed it. "¡Vámonos!" And they darted out into the street. In the next block, and the one after that, the streetlights weren't working. Even though they were only a few blocks from City Hall, Nolan realized that they were entering the Tenderloin District, one of the city's worst neighborhoods, where services tended to need upkeep. They walked quickly, still holding hands, their footfalls echoing, and, at the next crosswalk-Larkin-had to stop again for traffic and the light. Behind them, a prostitute in a black minidress and fishnet top stepped out from the lee of a building. "Are you two looking to party?" From the voice, Nolan realized that the woman was a man. "I've got a place right here behind us."

"Thanks, but we're good." Nolan stepped between Tara and the prostitute. "Just going to our car."

"Isn't this the street, up to the left?" Tara whispered to him.

"One more."

They jumped the light again and moved into the next darkened block. Suddenly the glittering city they'd been enjoying all day had disappeared. The breeze carried on it the acrid smells of garbage and urine. In the passing cars' headlights, Nolan could see that nearly every doorway they passed held a person lying down, bundled up in cloth or newspaper. At a break in the traffic, they crossed over in midblock, all but running now with cold and adrenaline. They turned up Leavenworth toward Eddy, into the heart of the Tenderloin. But-the good news-they were now only a bit more than a half block from where they'd parked.

As it turned out, though, that distance wasn't going to be short enough.

***