For the first time in a long time she thought of her parents. Poor Daddy was lost. And Dearest, her mother, in her own way was lost. Strange that it should take so long for her to understand them.
It was only now, with no one to cling to and no one to love, that she could feel close to them. And lost like them. She felt the tears come welling up into her eyes. And cry for them.
23
Baker leaned across his desk and looked at Captain Strang. “Dan, I think we’re getting our first break. Cardinali is asking his uncle for a meeting. If that meeting comes off and his uncle is who I think he is, we’ll take the roof off this case!”
The policeman smiled. “It’s about time. But what if the mob gets to Cardinali first?”
Baker nodded thoughtfully. “We can’t let that happen. The stakes are too big.”
“You can’t be behind him every time they start shooting,” Strang said quickly.
“I know,” Baker said. “But I’ve got a plan.”
“Let’s hear it,” Strang said.
Baker looked up at him, he lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “This will have to be between us. The chief won’t like it. It’s not regulation.”
Strang smiled again. “I’m beginning to like it already,” he said. “And I haven’t even heard it yet.”
“We’ll frighten him into hiding,” Baker said. “We’ll start a campaign. Telephone calls every hour. Threats. We’ll put the toughest looking guys on his tail and let him spot them. He’ll think it’s the mob. He’s got to break. If only to hide until the meeting is set.”
Strang looked at him thoughtfully. “It might work.”
“It’s got to work!” Baker said. “Once we’ve got him pinned down, then we can set up a stake-out that will work both ways. Nobody gets out, nobody gets in without our knowledge.”
Strang stared at him. “It means our jobs if we louse it up.”
Baker nodded. “I know.”
“You got it real bad for that guy,” Strang said.
“Real bad,” Baker admitted. Emotion flooded through him so strongly that he rose from his chair and walked over to the window. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling. “I can understand most of these guys. I’ve seen the places they came from, the nothing they started out with. I know why they went wrong and how. But this one I don’t get at all.
“He started out with everything. As far as we can see, he doesn’t want anything. Maybe he’s doing it just for kicks, maybe he likes to kill. I don’t know.
“I only know if we don’t find a way to stop him, a lot more people will die. And I don’t mean only gangsters but innocent people like that girl in Florida. No one can tell where a psychopath like him will draw the line!”
Strang drew in his breath slowly. He took out his pipe and knocked it against the ashtray. He stuck the empty pipe in his mouth and looked up at Baker. The smile in his eyes belied the grimness in his voice. “I’ve already put in thirty years with the force,” he said. “And I never really wanted a steady job!”
The telephone began to ring. Cesare walked over and picked it up. “Cardinali speaking,” he said into it.
The voice was rough and harsh and one he had never heard before. “Cardinali?” the voice said menacingly. “The Stiletto has outlived its usefulness. We will get you sooner or later. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself?”
The phone went dead in his hand. Impatiently Cesare jiggled the button. “Hello. Who is this? Who is this?”
There was no answer. He put down the receiver and walked back to the couch where Luke was sitting. She looked up at him curiously. “What was it?” she asked.
“A warning,” he answered. “Probably from some cheap gangster.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “That’s how they begin. I’ve seen the pattern before. They’ll try to wear you out.”
Cesare was angry. “If they think they can panic me with their phone calls, they’ll find out that I am different from the swine they are used to dealing with!” He started angrily for the door.
“Where are you going?” Luke asked.
He turned and looked back at her. “Downstairs to see that Ileana gets to the plane. Want to come along?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks,” she said. “I can live without saying good-bye to your lady friend.” She reached for a drink as he went out the door.
He was smiling as he came out of the Italian Airlines Building and started for the parking lot where he had left his car. Ileana would do all right. He didn’t have to worry about her. The message would be delivered.
Still there was something about her. Who else but Ileana would keep her eyes open for opportunity at a time like this? He almost laughed to himself at the way she found that young man. It was the white Stetson hat. Of course, he turned out to be a rich Texan. That young man would be a lot poorer before the flight was over.
He stepped into the parking lot and began to walk down the row of cars. It was late and there were not too many cars about. The sound of footsteps keeping time with his own came to him. He stopped for a moment and looked back.
There was no one there. He shrugged his shoulders and began to walk again. Again he heard the footsteps. He paused to light a cigarette. The footsteps stopped also. The cigarette lit, he began to walk again.
A moment later he heard the footsteps. They were heavy and deliberate. This time he was sure they were following him. He slowed his pace to see if the footsteps would keep time with him. They did.
He was almost at his car now. He let the stiletto slide into his hand. The cold feel of the metal was reassuring. He stepped between two cars and whirled suddenly, the knife pointed outward in his hand.
“Who’s there?” His voice echoed strangely in the empty parking lot.
There was no answer. He waited a moment. The lot was silent. It had been nothing but the echoes of his own footsteps that he had heard. He let the stiletto slide back into its sheath. He was letting that stupid telephone call disturb him. He laughed to himself, feeling the tension drain from him as he got into the car.
He switched on the motor. He felt the faint prickling in his loins as he always did after a moment of danger. He thought of Luke waiting in the apartment. He was glad she would be there tonight. He needed someone like her. She would help him to rest.
He put the Alfa-Romeo into gear and started out of the lot. He knew the type of woman Luke was but she was not the kind who went with every man. She was motivated by identification. And when she found what she sought it was like a magic key to her own body and she could no longer control her desires.
Then would come the struggle to assert her superiority. First, sexually, by demands that would grow beyond the limits of fulfillment. He smiled to himself. That was the stage she was at right now. After that would come the others, the insistence upon acceptance as equal to the male in work and achievement, then superiority to the male by virtue of her femininity.
That she would never achieve. Not with him nor with anyone who would attract her, for she was not drawn to weaklings. For them she only had contempt. And the last stage in the pattern was her demand for rejection which came last. This she would always achieve.
For this was the stone on which she cleansed herself and absolved her conscience so that she might go forward and repeat the pattern of her life. So it would not be too difficult when this was over for him to do what he had to do. In a way it was of her own seeking. By that time he would be ready too. He would have had his fill and become bored with her.
And Ileana would be back by then. He thought of her with a smile. Maybe they would marry. It was time to think of carrying on the name. The blood lines would be good together and Ileana was European.
Europeans were much more honest than Americans, much more realistic. Compared with the complexities of Luke, Ileana seemed as simple and as direct as a schoolgirl.
24
“Well, it’s been two days,” Strang said. “How do you think we’re doin’?�
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Baker shrugged his shoulders. “It’s anybody’s guess. He picks up the phone now and disconnects before we get halfway through.” He took out a cigarette and lit it. “What do your men in the field have to say?”
“I’ve switched them about six times already,” Strang answered. “They say he’s beginning to get jumpy. The usual things. Looking back over his shoulder, checking doorways before he goes in and out of them.”
“And the girl?” Baker asked. “What about her?”
“She seems in better shape than he is,” Strang said. “She’s always with him but maybe she doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“I’ve got the report on her,” Baker said. “She seems pretty straight. She is a racing-car driver. Pretty good too, from what we can tell. Had some hard luck and lost her own car last year and she’s saving up to get another one now.”
“That isn’t much help,” Strang said. “It doesn’t explain her willingness to alibi him for what happened out in the Mexican desert.”
“She seems to want a car pretty bad,” Baker said. “He’s the boy who can give her one.”
“Not just now, he isn’t,” Strang said. “We just found out that his car franchises were canceled.”
“All of them?” Baker asked.
Strang nodded. “All of them. I wonder if that means anything.”
“It might,” Baker answered. “I’ll have it checked out.” The telephone rang. He picked it up. “It’s for you,” he said, giving the telephone to Strang.
Strang took it and listened for a moment, then put down the phone. “That was one of my men. Cardinali and the girl just went into the Pavillon on 57th Street for lunch.”
Baker smiled and picked up the telephone. “It’s about time for another call,” he said to Strang. “Call Mr. Cardinali at the Pavillon restaurant and play the recording for him again,” he said into it.
“I tell you I saw that man following us,” Cesare insisted. “I recognized him. I saw him before.”
Luke looked at him. “Are you sure, Cesare? I didn’t see anyone.”
“He was around the corner on Park Avenue by that time. I am sure.” Cesare fell quiet as the waiter brought their drinks.
They sipped at their cocktails silently until the waiter left. Luke put her hand on his arm. “What you need is some rest,” she said softly. “You didn’t get any sleep at all last night.”
“Who can sleep with that telephone ringing?” Cesare said irritably. “There were four calls before we finally left the receiver off the hook.”
“I’d have the phone shut off,” Luke said.
“And admit to them that they have upset me?” Cesare said. “That is what they would like.”
The waiter came back to the table. He was carrying a telephone with him. “There is a call for Count Cardinali.” He bowed.
Cesare looked at Luke. “All right, I’ll take it,” he said to the waiter.
The waiter bowed again and plugged it into a jack behind them on the banquette. Cesare took the phone from him. “Cardinali speaking,” he said into it.
Luke could see his face harden as he listened. He put down the telephone silently. He nodded in answer to the question on her face.
“Again,” he said heavily, picking up his drink. “You see, we were being followed. They knew just where to call me.”
The telephone began to ring just as they entered the apartment. Tonio hurried by them to pick it up. “Count Cardinali’s residence,” he said into it. He looked up at them. “Just a moment. I will see if he’s in.”
He put down the telephone and came over to them. “There is a call for you, Excellency, but the signor will not give his name. He says only that he has an important message for you.”
“I’ll take it,” Cesare said, crossing to the phone. He listened silently as Tonio hurried from the room. Suddenly his face contorted with anger and he ripped the telephone from its socket and flung it across the room.
“Damned instrument of torture!” he snapped as it crashed into a vase. He flung himself down on the couch as Tonio came hurrying into the room, a look of fright on his round little face.
“Clean up that mess!” Cesare snapped at him.
“Yes, Excellency! Immediately, Excellency!” the little man answered and hurried from the room.
Cesare leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Luke went around behind him and massaged the back of his neck sympathetically.
“Take it easy,” she said. “That won’t do any good. I’ll fix you a drink.”
She walked over to the liquor cabinet and took down the gin and vermouth. Quickly she stirred a martini and poured it. She looked around for the bitters. Europeans liked a dash of bitters in their martinis.
It wasn’t on any of the open shelves. She turned the key on the small door at the rear of the cabinet. A lone small dark bottle stood there. She took it out and turned toward him. “A dash of bitters?” she asked.
He was staring at her hand. “Where did you get that?” he snapped.
She gestured with her hand. “From here. I know you like…”
“Put it back,” he said sharply. “And stay out of locked doors.”
“You don’t have to take my head off,” she retorted angrily, putting the bottle back and closing the door.
He relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry, darling,” he apologized. “The bitters are on the shelf below the bar.”
“What’s in that bottle anyway?” she asked, handing him the drink.
He sipped the drink and looked up at her. “Poison. Unfortunately I can’t hang it on the wall like the other weapons,” he said. “I got it from a chemist in Florence who was doing research on the poisons Lucrezia Borgia used. A few drops and there’s no antidote. He said their knowledge of chemistry was fantastic for their times.”
She looked over at the cabinet curiously. “I wouldn’t feel safe having it around.”
He finished the drink. “It’s safe enough there. Nobody ever opens that door, even to clean it.” He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I’m so tired,” he said.
She stroked his forehead. “I know, lover,” she said gently. “If there were only someplace we could go, someplace where nobody could find us until Ileana got back.”
He turned around suddenly and looked up at her. The tension was disappearing from his face and he began to smile. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of it? I know just the place. They will never think of looking for us there!”
She smiled down at him. A warmth began to spread inside her. The time was only beginning, she thought proudly, when he would learn how necessary she was to him.
Detective Sergeant McGowan looked at his watch. It was almost eleven o’clock. One more hour until his relief would show up. He stamped his feet in the cold night air. That was the only lousy thing about this job. He had been waiting outside the hotel since four this afternoon.
Still it wasn’t too bad. At least they didn’t have to try to remain invisible like they did on some jobs. That was one of the big jokes in the trade. On television one lone private eye shadowed a suspect right into his bedroom and was never spotted. In real life it was a little different. The captain had six men on this job. There was one man at every entrance to the big hotel and two men constantly circling the block in a car to maintain contact and lend a hand if they were needed.
The car had just turned the corner at Lexington away from him when he glanced back at the hotel entrance and they came out.
The girl was carrying a small valise, the man looked up and down the street quickly and, waving away a taxi, took her arm. They started walking rapidly toward Lexington.
McGowan started after them. Just his luck they would pick this time to make a break. Now he wouldn’t get home before six in the morning.
They cut across the street at the corner and headed up toward 51st Street. He cut in behind them and saw the man look back. He didn’t try to hide himself. He didn’t have
to on this job. They turned the corner and went down into the subway entrance.
He broke into a run now and reached the top of the subway steps just as the roar of an entering train came to him. He took the steps down two at a time. The captain wouldn’t like it if he were to lose them.
He caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of his eye as he darted around the corner at the bottom of the stairway. He half turned to see the flat upraised hand of the man coming down on him in a vicious judo chop. He tried to roll away from it when the pain exploded in his shoulder and he sank to his knees.
He wasn’t all the way out but there were lights flashing in his eyes and ringing sounds in his brain. That was like it was on TV, he remembered thinking vaguely. He shook his head. His vision began to clear.
He put his hand against the wall and pushed himself to his feet. He stood there dizzily for a moment, his eyes peering down to the platform.
He saw them getting on the train and started toward the platform after them. Before he reached the turnstiles, the doors had closed and the train began to pull out. He saw the man’s face through the window, looking back at him. He was smiling.
Wearily he turned and headed for the telephone booth. He sank into it and heard the dime go tinkling down the box. The captain wouldn’t like to hear they had gotten away but the captain should have told him the guy could hit like that. He began to dial the number.
Strang put down the telephone. He stared at Baker. “The plan worked all right,” he said grimly. “But it worked too good. He cold-cocked McGowan on a subway platform and got away from him.”
“The girl too?” Baker asked.
Strang nodded. “Yes.”
Harold Robbins Organized Crime Double Page 64