Read To Live Again and The Second Trip for Free Online Page A

Roditis was bothering to inflict these few minutes of fatuity on him. Of course the guru was going to sound grateful, after having been handed a million dollars; of course he was going to say that Roditis was blessed among men in wisdom, and worthy of many rebirths. Noyes had the uneasy suspicion that Roditis genuinely believed what the guru was saying—that he felt it was praise earned through merit, not merely bought for cash. It was something like a sonic sculptor who bribed the Times critic to give him a rave, then called up all his friends and proudly read them the glowing review. Not a day passed on which Noyes failed to rediscover the core of naïveté that lay within John Roditis’ energetic, shrewd, ruthless spirit.
    The guru reached his peroration and vanished from the screen. Roditis returned, beaming.
    “What did you think of that? ”
    “Fine, John. Wonderful.”
    “He really sounded happy about the gift.”
    “I’m sure he was. It was very handsome.”
    “Yes,” said Roditis. “I’ll give him some more, by and by. I’ll make them name a whole damn wing of that place after me. The John Roditis Soul Bank for Departed Lamas, or something. Onward and upward, yes? Om mani padme hum, fella.”
    Noyes said nothing. Kravchenko seemed to chuckle; Noyes felt it as a tickling in his frontal lobes.
    Then, as though experiencing some inner shifting of gears, Roditis lost his look of jovial self-satisfaction, and a glimmer of strain showed through his carefully abstract expression. He said, “Mark Kaufmann is giving a party Saturday at his Dominica estate.”
    “He’s coming out of mourning, then?”
    “Yes. This is the first social thing he’s done since old Paul was gathered to repose. It’s going to be a big, noisy, expensive affair.”
    “Are you invited?” Noyes asked.
    Roditis looked scornful. “Me? The filthy little nouveau riche with delusions of grandeur? No, of course I’m not invited! It’s mainly going to be a party for various Kaufmanns and their Jewish banking relatives.”
    “John, you know you shouldn’t use that phrase.”
    “Why? Does it make me seem a bigot? You know I’ve got nothing against Jews. Can I help it if the Kaufmanns are related to the other big Jewish bankers?”
    “When you say it, somehow, it comes out like a sneer,” Noyes dared to tell him.
    “Well, I don’t mean it as a sneer. You don’t sneer at a social and cultural elite. What you hear in my voice isn’t anti-Semitism, Charles, it’s simple envy without any neurotic irrational manifestations attached. There’ll be a mess of Lehmans and Loebs at that party. There won’t be any John Roditis. Frank Santoliquido is going to be there, too.”
    “ He’s not Jewish.”
    Roditis looked annoyed. “No, dolt, he isn’t! But he’s important, and he’s socially well-placed besides, and Mark Kaufmann is trying to buy his support in this business of the old man’s persona. Santoliquido and his girl friend are flying down on Mark’s own jet; that’s how tight things are getting. And you can bet that Mark is going to spend the whole day letting Santo know how important it is to keep Uncle Paul out of my clutches. That’s got to be counteracted somehow. Which is why you’re going to go to the party too.”
    “Me? But I’m not invited!”
    “Get yourself invited.”
    “Impossible, John. Kaufmann knows I’m connected to your organization, and if you’re on the dead list, you can bet that I—”
    “You’re also connected to the Loebs, aren’t you?”
    “Well, my sister married a Loeb, yes.”
    “Damn right, she did. Won’t she be at the party?”
    “I suppose she’s been invited, at any rate.”
    “I know she has. I’ve got the complete guest list right here. Mr. and Mrs. David Loeb. That’s your sister, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Fine. Now, what happens if she phones Kaufmann and says she’s in the air over Cuba, say, and she’ll be landing in five minutes, and she’s happened to bring her