Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  I grinned to myself. For a moment he almost had me. But two could play at that game. I got out of the chair and opened the door.

  The girl looked up at me, a startled expression in her eyes. I picked a magazine from the rack. “Where’s the washroom?” I asked.

  Silently she pointed to a door opposite mine. I crossed the office quickly. As I opened the washroom door her voice caught me. “But Mr. Brady will be free in a few minutes.”

  “Ask him to wait,” I said, quickly closing the door behind me.

  I had been in the can almost ten minutes when the door opened and someone came in. From under the tile booth door I could see a pair of men’s shoes stand hesitantly in front of the booth. They were cops’ shoes. I didn’t have to see the gray trouser cuffs to know that. I grinned and kept silent. A few seconds later the shoes went away and the door slammed again.

  It had taken a long time, but one of my father’s predictions had just come true. Years ago I remembered him saying to my mother that the only way they would ever get me out of the bathroom was to get the cops after me.

  I sat there and flipped the pages of the magazine. About five minutes later the door slammed again. I looked down under the booth. A pair of small shiny black shoes went past. I smiled grimly to myself. This round was mine.

  Quickly I dropped the magazine to the floor. A second later I came out of the booth and crossed over to the washstand.

  The little man standing there looked up at me questioningly. I grinned down at him in apparent surprise. “Mr. Brady,” I said. “What nice offices you have here!”

  Matt Brady’s own office was big enough to serve as the lobby for Radio City Music Hall. It was on a corner of the building and two of its walls were large picture windows through which one could see building after building, all bearing the gleaming stainless steel signs reading Consolidated Steel. His desk occupied the large corner where the two windows came together. Around his desk were three bucket chairs facing him. On the opposite side of the office was a long conference table with ten chairs and a long sectional couch took up the closed corners of the room. In front of the couch was a marble-topped coffee table and two more chairs.

  He motioned me to a seat and went behind his desk. He sat down silently and looked at me. I waited for him to speak. His first question came from left field. “How old are you, Mr. Rowan?”

  I looked at him curiously. “Forty-three,” I answered.

  His next question also caught me off base. “How much do you earn a year?”

  “Thirty-five thousand,” I said quickly, before I had a chance to lie.

  He nodded silently and looked down at his desk. There were some typewritten sheets on it. He seemed to be studying them. I waited for him to continue to speak. After a moment he looked up at me. “Do you know why I sent for you?” he asked.

  “I thought I did,” I said honestly. “But now I’m not quite sure.”

  He smiled mirthlessly. “I believe in honest talk, young man,” he said. “So I won’t waste time in coming to the point. How would you like to make sixty thousand a year?”

  I laughed nervously. The way this guy threw numbers around, I was beginning to feel as if I was back in Washington. “I’d like it,” I said.

  He leaned toward me confidentially. “At yesterday’s meeting you presented a plan for the benefit of the industry. Remember?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I also remembered that he didn’t think very much of it.

  “There were certain flaws in your presentation,” he continued. “But basically, it was sound.”

  I let my breath escape my lips gently. The big one hadn’t got off the hook after all. A glow of triumph began to fill me. “I’m glad you think so, sir,” I said quickly.

  “When I left the meeting, I must admit I was slightly angry,” he said, still in a confidential tone of voice. His eyes held mine. “Because of your accusation.”

  “I regret it, sir,” I said quickly. “It was only because—”

  He held up a magnanimous hand, interrupting me. “Say no more. I admit I gave you sufficient provocation. But what you said impressed me. You were the only one there who had the nerve to call a spade a spade.” He smiled wryly. “It’s been too long a time since anyone spoke to me like that.”

  By now I was going around in circles. I didn’t know what the devil he wanted, so I kept quiet. They never hanged a man for keeping his mouth shut.

  He waved his hand at the windows behind him. “See that, Mr. Rowan?” he said. “That’s Consolidated Steel, and that’s not all of it, either. There are twenty other foundries like it in the United States. It’s one of the five largest corporations in the world—and I made it what it is today. Many people didn’t approve of my methods, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that I made a dream come true. I’ve eaten, slept and drunk steel since I was a twelve-year-old water carrier in a foundry.”

  In spite of myself I was impressed by the little man. His tone had all the fervor of an evangelist. I kept silent.

  “So when you said that I was thinking selfishly you were absolutely right. I make no apologies for it. Too many years have gone by, and I’m too old to change now.”

  I still couldn’t see what he was driving at, so I waited. He leaned back in his chair and looked at me. I took a cigarette and lit it. He let me take a drag before he spoke. It was a good thing he did because what he said almost knocked me off my seat.

  “I like you, Mr. Rowan,” he said quietly. “Because you’re like me. You’re all the things you would say I was. Tough. Selfish. Ruthless. But I would call it practical. A recognition of the laws of survival.

  “That’s why I asked you to come and see me. I’m prepared to offer you a job here as Vice-President and Director of Public Relations at sixty thousand dollars a year. I need a man with your talents for organization to do for Consolidated Steel what you plan to do for the industry.”

  I took a deep drag of cigarette and held onto my chair. “But what of the industry campaign?” I asked.

  He laughed shortly. “Let them worry about their own campaign,” he said succinctly.

  I was silent. This was hitting it. All my life I had been waiting for a kick like this. Now that it had come I couldn’t believe it.

  Matt Brady spoke again. Apparently he had taken my stunned silence for an assent. The mirthless smile was back on his face. His fingers tapped the typewritten sheets of paper on his desk. “Mr. Rowan, these papers are as complete a dossier of your life as I could gather overnight. As you see I like to know as much as possible about my associates and I feel I only have to talk to you on one small point.”

  I looked at him questioningly. My head was still reeling. What was he talking about now?

  He looked down at the papers and spoke. “Your business record is a very good one, there is nothing there I have need to speak to you about. Your home life is also good. But there are portions of your personal life I think you must be cautioned about.”

  A chill began to settle down on me. “What, Mr. Brady?”

  “Last night you checked into the Brooke with a woman who is not your wife, Mr. Rowan. That’s very indiscreet. We at Consolidated must remember we are constantly under surveillance.”

  I began to get angry. How long had this guy been watching me? Maybe this was his payoff to get me away from Elaine. “By whom, Mr. Brady?” I asked coldly. “Who could be interested enough in me to know what I’ve been doing?”

  “Everyone that has anything to do with steel in Pittsburgh must expect to be watched, Mr. Rowan,” he said.

  I had to find out what was on those sheets of paper. “I suppose your spies also gave you the name of the lady with me last night?” I asked.

  He looked up at me coldly. “I’m not interested in the names of your sleeping companions, Mr. Rowan. I’m only mentioning this because of our planned association.”

  I got out of my chair. “I’ve decided I’m not interested in your offer, Mr. Brady.”r />
  He got to his feet. “Don’t be foolish, young man,” he said quickly. “No woman is worth it.”

  I laughed shortly. I wondered what he would say if he knew it was his niece we were talking about. “That hasn’t anything to do with it, Mr. Brady,” I said coldly. I walked to the door and opened it.

  A special officer sitting just outside the door scrambled to his feet. He looked at me expectantly.

  I looked back into the office at the little man standing behind his desk. “You’re overdoing this cop thing a bit, Mr. Brady,” I said. “Even the Gestapo couldn’t help Hitler when the chips were down.”

  12

  I hit the street under a full head of steam. The bright sun tore at my eyes and I blinked. Down the street was Oscar’s bar. Its cool, dark interior looked good to me. I pushed my way through the revolving door.

  It was one of those cocktail lounges with a restaurant attached. I headed for the bar and climbed up on a stool. The place was loaded with Con Steel people. I could tell from the badges on their clothing. This was a white-collar joint; the foundry workers apparently had their own stamping grounds.

  The bartender slid over in front of me. “Double Black Label over rocks,” I said. “Lemon twist.”

  He threw three ice cubes into a tumbler and put it down in front of me. Reaching behind him, he brought down a bottle of Black Label and filled the tumbler three-quarters full. Then he twisted a cut of lemon peel over the glass and dropped it in. “Buck and a half,” he said.

  Either the nut was nothing here or they cut the liquor big. I dropped a five on the bar and picked up my drink. “Ride it,” I said. I needed time to think.

  Those sheets of paper on Matt Brady’s desk bothered me. Whoever made that report might know Elaine was with me. That wouldn’t be good. Matt Brady might ignore my words, but I was sure he wouldn’t forgive my having her with me. I’d give an eyetooth to know who sent him that report.

  I thought about Elaine back at the hotel waiting for me. I remembered how she had been at breakfast that morning. I had been nervous. My stomach had been jumping.

  “Easy, boy, easy,” she had said with a quick understanding. “Uncle Matt isn’t an ogre. He won’t eat you. He just wants to talk over a deal.”

  In spite of myself I had smiled. Maybe it was just a deal to Matt Brady, but it was the big deal to me.

  I took another sip of my drink and ran into water. Silently I gestured to the bartender for a refill. I sure kicked that one out the window. I looked down at my watch. Two o’clock. I hated to go back to the hotel and tell her what had happened.

  I was on my second double when I looked up at the mirror over the bar. I thought a dame had smiled at me. I was right. The girl in the mirror smiled again.

  I spun around on my chair and smiled back at her. She gestured and I picked up my drink and walked toward her table. It was Matt Brady’s secretary. I felt a little tight. My mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “How come the old man let you out for lunch?” I asked. “The Department of Labor get after him?”

  She ignored my crack. “Mr. Brady always leaves the office at one-thirty,” she said. “He doesn’t come back.”

  I knew an invitation when I heard one. I dropped into the chair beside her. “Good,” I said. “I hate drinking alone.”

  She smiled. “He called your hotel and left a message for you before he went home.”

  “Tell him to shove it,” I said belligerently. “I want no part of him.”

  She held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “Don’t be mad at me, Mr. Rowan,” she said. “I only work there.”

  She was right. I was being a fool. “I’m sorry, Miss—uh—Miss—”

  “Wallace,” she answered. “Sandra Wallace.”

  “Miss Wallace,” I said formally. “Let me get you a drink.” I signaled the waiter and looked at her inquiringly.

  “Very dry martini,” she said. The waiter went away and she looked at me. “Mr. Brady likes you,” she said.

  “Good,” I answered. “I don’t like him.”

  “He wants you to work for him. He was sure that you would. He even had the legal department draw up a contract for you.”

  “Does he have an employment contract with his spies too?” I asked.

  The waiter put her drink down and went away. I picked up my drink and waved it at her. “The only job I’d take from him right now is watching you,” I said.

  She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy as hell,” I said. “For that he wouldn’t even have to pay me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rowan,” she said, raising her glass to her lips.

  “Brad’s the name; whenever somebody calls me Mister, I always turn around. I think it’s my father they’re talking to.”

  “Okay, Brad,” she smiled. “But sooner or later you’ll get used to it and do what he wants.”

  “You heard me when I went out of the office,” I told her. “I’m not taking his stinking job.”

  A strange look came over her face. It was almost as if she had heard this many times before. “He’ll get you, Brad,” she said quietly. “You don’t know him. Matt Brady always gets what he wants.”

  A flash of understanding suddenly penetrated my fuzzy head. “You don’t like him?” I asked.

  She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “I hate his guts.”

  My head was clearing quickly. “Then why stay? You don’t have to work for him. There are other jobs.”

  “From the time I was eleven years old and my father was killed in the foundry I knew I was going to be his secretary.”

  I was interested. “How come?”

  “My mother went to his office and dragged me with her. I was big for my age, and Matt Brady didn’t miss a trick. I remember his walking around that desk and taking my hand. I even remember how cold his fingers were when he spoke to my mother.

  “‘Don’t worry, Mrs. Wolenciwicz,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you enough money to live on, and when Alexandra grows up she can come and work for me here. Maybe even be my secretary.’

  “He never forgot what he said. Every now and then he would call my mother to check and find out if I was taking the right courses and how I was doing in school.” She picked up her martini and stared into it. “If I left him now, he’d never let me get another job.”

  “Even if you left town?” I asked.

  Her smile was bitter. “I tried that once. He very quietly loused me up, and then generously gave me my job back.”

  I took a sip of my drink. It tasted crummy in my mouth. I put it back on the table. I was through drinking for the afternoon. I took a deep breath. “He keeping you?” I asked bluntly.

  She shook her head. “No,” she answered. “A lot of people around the place think so, but he never so much as said a word to me that didn’t have to do with business.” Her eyes were full on my face. There was a puzzled look in them as if she were asking me to explain it to her. “I don’t get it,” she added.

  I stared at her for a full minute before I spoke. “Does he have you watched too?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I think he does, sometimes I think not. He doesn’t trust anybody.”

  I had the feeling I could trust this dame. “Did you see the report he had on me?”

  She shook her head. “It comes from personnel’s investigation office. It’s given to him personally in a sealed envelope.”

  “Is there any way I can get a copy?” I asked.

  “There’s only one copy made and it’s in his desk.”

  “Can you get me a look at it?” I persisted. “I have to see it. He may have something in there that may mean big trouble for me.”

  “It won’t do any good, Brad,” she said. “If there is anything, he would never forget it.”

  “But I would have a chance if I knew what he knew,” I said quickly.

  She didn’t speak. I could see she was a little frightened over having told me as much as she did. After all, sh
e didn’t know me from Adam. For all she knew, I could be one of Matt Brady’s spies.

  “A favor for a favor,” I said quickly. “You help me, I help you. Get me a look at that report and I’ll get you away from Matt Brady—so that he’ll never find you.”

  She took a deep breath and suddenly I was conscious of what had caught my eye back in her office. She had a terrific pair of tits and for a moment I thought she was going to bust out of her dress. She saw me goggling at her and a peculiar smile came to her lips.

  “I’m not hiding it there,” she said pointedly.

  “I wish you were,” I said, dragging my eyes back to her face. “But I got no luck. That would make business a pleasure.”

  A faint flush crept into her cheeks. “What makes you think it can’t be?” she asked huskily.

  13

  We walked in through the big steel gate and I turned toward the building entrance. Her hand touched my arm. “This way,” she said.

  I followed her around the corner of the building. There, hidden in an arch of privet hedges, was a door. She took a key from her bag and opened it. “Matt Brady’s private entrance,” she explained.

  We were in a small corridor. A few feet from the door was an elevator. She pressed the button and its doors opened. We stepped inside and she turned to me, smiling. “Matt Brady’s private elevator,” she said. I felt the elevator begin to climb. She was still smiling at me.

  There was no refusing that invitation. I pulled her toward me. Her eyes were wide open as her arms went up around my neck and her lips opened under mine. The guardrail on the wall around the elevator cut into her bottom and I could feel her moving against me. I was right the first time. This kid was built for distance. She was still hanging on, even after the doors had opened.

  At last she came up for air. Her eyes were shining. “I like you,” she said.

  I managed a grin. I had to play it safe.

  “You’re my kind of guy,” she said. “I knew it from the minute you made him come and get you out of the john.”