Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

by Harold Robbins

  He was silent. “It will be a lot of work,” he finally said.

  “We’ll put on as many people as you need to get it done,” she said. She walked around her desk and kissed his cheek. “You can do it, Philippe. I know you can. And this time you’ll really show all of them.”

  He looked at her. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Good.”

  “Now I better get back to my office. I’ve got to begin calling the fabric houses all over the world. We’ll have to get them to air express everything they have.”

  “Do it,” she said. “If you need any help with them, call me.”

  She watched him leave the office, then turned to Jacques. “What do you think?”

  “He’s going to try.” Jacques lit a cigarette. “You’re a bitch, you know that. You frightened the shit out of him when you said he could leave.”

  “I had no choice,” she said, returning to her desk. “Did you call Carroll?”

  “He’ll be there tonight,” Jacques said. “I hope you know what you’re doing. We’re going to need a lot of money.”

  “I’m not as much worried about him as I am about Johann,” she said. “He’ll probably have to go to Johann for approval, and you know how Johann feels about couture.”

  “It has to be with Johann’s approval that he’s been after you,” Jacques said.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But he still might be looking after Lauren’s equity. After all she still owns twenty-five percent of this company.”

  “Then he’s sure to go along,” Jacques said. “If he wasn’t interested, he might never have allowed her to come and visit.”

  Janette laughed suddenly. “I can always hold her for ransom.”

  Jacques’ voice was shocked. “Not again. You tried that once.”

  Janette laughed again. “You’re more French than I am. You have absolutely no sense of humor.”

  Carroll opened the door to let Jacques into the hotel suite. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  “I got over here as quickly as I could,” Jacques explained. “The shit really hit the fan. It’s been touch and go for the last four hours.” He walked toward the bar and poured himself a whiskey on the rocks. “I need a drink.”

  Carroll watched him as he swallowed a big gulp. “What’s been decided?”

  “She junked Philippe’s whole collection and they’re starting over again,” Jacques answered, still holding his glass.

  “She’ll never make it in time for the showings,” Carroll said.

  “You don’t know her,” Jacques said. “She’ll make it.”

  Carroll looked at him for a moment. “It will take money. Where’s she going to get it?”

  Jacques met his gaze. “From you.”

  Carroll’s voice was even. “And if I don’t give it to her?”

  “Bidermann’s been knocking at the door,” Jacques lied. “He’d fall on his face if she just smiled at him.”

  Carroll was silent. He went back to the couch and sat down thoughtfully. “Haute couture means nothing to me,” he said.

  “She knows that,” Jacques said. “She’s been working on a prêt á porter collection of her own.”

  Carroll was interested. “Did you see it?”

  Jacques nodded. “She gave me the designs. And they’re good. Very good. As a matter of fact, I think she’s going to push Philippe in that direction because, she said, why wait for Seventh Avenue to knock them off when she can do it herself, quicker and better?”

  “Do you think she’ll want to talk about it tonight?” Carroll asked.

  “I have a feeling that’s why she asked you to dinner,” Jacques said. “The big problem you have is Johann. She’s leery about getting involved with him again. She’s afraid he’ll try to take over.”

  “Johann lets me run my own shop,” Carroll said testily. “All he’s interested is in the bottom line.”

  “That sounds like him,” Jacques said. “He was always like that.”

  “I’ll have no problem with him,” Carroll said. “He knows I’ve been after her for a long time.”

  Jacques refilled his glass. He didn’t speak.

  Carroll looked up at him. “What’s the reason for the dinner tonight?”

  Jacques sipped his drink. “It’s a welcome home party for her sister.”

  “You mean Lauren?” A note of astonishment came into Carroll’s voice.

  Jacques nodded. “It’s been ten years since—”

  “I know her,” Carroll said. “I’ve seen her several times when I went over to Johann’s house. I always had the feeling that Johann wanted to keep them apart. She’s nothing like Janette.”

  “What is she like?” Jacques was curious.

  “Very American, very California. Blond, suntanned, you know, jeans, grass, wine, very laid back like all the kids today. They think they’re the first generation ever to discover youth.”

  Jacques laughed.

  “Why are you laughing?” Carroll asked.

  “Now I’m anxious to see her,” Jacques answered. “Last time I saw her she was just a seven-year-old.”

  “You’re in for a surprise,” Carroll said.

  “I don’t like that boy Harvey,” Heidi said as Johann sat down at the breakfast table.

  He looked at her in surprise as he raised his coffee cup. “What brought that on all of a sudden?”

  “She hadn’t been gone twenty-four hours when he called and wanted her telephone number in Paris.”

  Johann smiled. He reached for the toast and began to butter it. “I don’t see anything wrong in that.”

  Her voice was reproachful. “Johann, you know he’s into drugs.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean anything. From what I hear everybody’s children are into drugs.”

  “I found drugs in Lauren’s room when we went in to clean if after she had gone,” Heidi said.

  “What drugs?” Johann asked.

  “Marijuana. Pills. I don’t know what they are. I think she gets them from Harvey.”

  “Does your daughter look like a drug addict to you, Mama?” he asked teasingly.

  “No, but—”

  “Then stop worrying. Lauren’s a bright girl. She knows how to take care of herself.”

  “I guess she does,” she said. “I also found these.” She held up a small box.

  “What are those?” he asked.

  “Birth control pills,” she answered.

  He laughed. “Then I was right. She does know how to take care of herself.”

  “She’s only seventeen.”

  Johann put down his coffee. “Now stop worrying. She’s all right.”

  “I don’t like the idea of her being with Janette,” she said.

  “You just don’t like the idea of her going off on her own. The little bird is showing signs of leaving the nest. It’s normal at her age. Didn’t you tell me that you did the same thing?”

  “It wasn’t exactly the same thing. I went away to college.”

  “Heidi,” Johann said gently, “just relax. She’ll be fine.”

  “She said she would call when she got there,” Heidi said.

  “There’s nine hours’ time difference between Paris and California.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight in the morning here, that makes it five in the afternoon over there. I’ll bet she’s sleeping off her jet lag and she’ll call you when she wakes up.”

  “If she doesn’t call me by ten o’clock, I’m going to call her,” Heidi said.

  “No, you won’t,” Johann said firmly. “She’s a young lady now. Don’t make her feel like a child.”

  The telephone on his side of the table began to ring and he picked it up. “Yes?” he said into it. “Okay, put him through.” He covered the speaker with his hand. “It’s Carroll calling from Paris.” He took his hand from the mouthpiece. “Hello, Charles. No, it’s okay. I’m just having breakfast. Sure, you can talk.”

  Heidi watched him while he was listening to the voice on the te
lephone. The maid came in and placed the ham and eggs on the table in front of him. Heidi took a cover and placed it over the plate so that it would keep warm until he had finished talking.

  Finally he put down the telephone and, looking across the table, smiled at her. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, lifting the cover from his plate. “She arrived there safe and sound and Janette is having a small dinner party in her honor tonight.”

  “Oh, my God!” Heidi exclaimed. “She hasn’t even got a dress to wear. I told her to take one with her but she said she wouldn’t need it.”

  Johann laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about that either. I’m sure that Janette would not let her come down to dinner naked.”

  Lauren opened her eyes. The room was dark and strange and it took a moment for her to realize she was not in her room at home. She rolled over on the bed and saw Janette sitting in an armchair, watching her. She sat up on the bed, stretching, making no attempt to cover her nakedness. “I fell asleep,” she said half apologetically.

  Janette smiled. “That’s normal. It’s jet lag. You looked so peaceful there I was wondering whether to wake you up.”

  “Is it late?”

  “No. We have plenty of time. It will be another two hours before any of our guests arrive.”

  Lauren got out of bed and started for the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a minute.” When she returned she was wearing a Porthault bathrobe she had found in the bathroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed facing Janette and lit a cigarette. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.

  Janette shrugged. “Comme ci comme ça. There are always problems.”

  Lauren giggled. “That’s what Daddy—Johann—always says.”

  “He works very hard?” It was a question, the way Janette said it.

  “All the time,” Lauren said. “Even on weekends and evenings, he always has a briefcase filled with papers that he has to go over. Sometimes I think he even takes them to bed with him.”

  “And Heidi? What does she do?”

  “She has things to keep her busy. You know, social and charitable things, plus the houses. And she travels a lot with Johann on his business trips.”

  “I wonder why they never had any children of their own,” Janette said.

  “She had two miscarriages,” Lauren said. “I don’t know too much about it. It happened when I was still a kid.”

  “Too bad,” Janette said thoughtfully. “I always thought Johann would make a great father.”

  “He has,” Lauren said. “To me.”

  “I noticed that you called him Daddy. Do you call Heidi Mother?”

  “Yes.”

  Janette nodded. “Good.”

  “That’s the way I think of them,” Lauren said.

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong in it,” Janette said quickly. “They deserve it. They love you very much.”

  “Do they have anything to worry about?”

  “I don’t think so,” Lauren answered. “I cope.” She yawned again and stretched. “I can’t seem to wake up.”

  “A hot-and-cold shower will revive you,” Janette said.

  “I think a toot will do it quicker,” Lauren said.

  “A toot?”

  “A snort, coke, you know. Two toots and a red and you can take on the whole world.” She got out of bed and crossed to the dresser. She opened a drawer and took out a small cosmetic bag. She turned back to Janette as she unzipped it, the bathrobe loose and open. “Want a lift?”

  “I can use something,” Janette said.

  She took a small vial from the bag and knelt before Janette’s chair. She put a small plastic straw in the bottle, took it out and held it to Janette’s nostril. “Snort.”

  Janette felt the coke shoot back into her head.

  “Now the other nostril,” Lauren said, before Janette could speak.

  Again Janette sniffed at the straw. This time she felt it go right up into her brain. “My God!” she exclaimed. “What the hell is in that?”

  Lauren laughed. “The real thing. Pharmaceutical coke. Not the cut street stuff.”

  Janette watched her do two quick snorts. She could feel the sudden awakening creeping through her body. The strains of the day seemed to disappear.

  Lauren’s eyes brightened. She got to her feet and threw her robe on the floor. She held out her arms and suddenly danced around the room. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”

  “What?” Janette asked.

  “I’m in Paris. I’m really in Paris!” Lauren laughed. “And I’m with you. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of being here with you.”

  Janette laughed. “You’re beautiful,” she said. “I only hope that neither Paris nor I disappoint you.”

  The telephone next to the bed rang. Janette got out of her chair and picked it up. She listened for a moment, then held the receiver toward Lauren. “It’s someone named Harvey calling you from California.”

  Lauren took the telephone. “Harvey, how’d you get my number?”

  Harvey’s voice echoed in the line. “From your mother. She sounded p.o.’d. Like she didn’t want to give it to me. She also bitched because you hadn’t called her yet.”

  “I forgot and fell asleep,” Lauren said. “Why’d you call?”

  “My father said if I could get the money together I could go over to Europe in August. He’ll give me half if I get the other half. Will you still be in Paris?”

  “I don’t know,” Lauren said. She looked at Janette. “Harvey wants to come over. Will we still be in Paris in August?”

  “I have a villa in Saint-Tropez,” she answered. “We should be able to go down there by the tenth, after the collections.”

  “Janette says we’re going to be in Saint-Tropez,” Lauren said into the telephone.

  “Jesus!” Harvey said. “That’s where everybody is topless and Brigitte Bardot lives.”

  “I guess so,” Lauren said.

  “Would your sister mind if I showed up?” He paused a moment. “Wait a minute. Don’t ask her just yet. Let me see if I can get the money together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is she as great-looking as she was in that picture I saw?”

  Lauren laughed. “Better-looking.”

  “Wow,” Harvey said. “Is she into anything?”

  “She’s hip.”

  “Great,” Harvey said. “Tell her if I come I’ll come supplied.”

  “When will you know?” she asked.

  “I’ll call you again in a couple of weeks,” Harvey said. “Was the stuff I gave you all right?”

  “Super.”

  “I’ve got a couple of new kinds I want you to try.”

  “Okay. How does the project look?”

  “We’re getting there. We’ll be rich yet.”

  Lauren laughed. “Great. Just don’t get yourself busted.”

  “I won’t,” he answered. “Keep cool.”

  “You, too. ‘Bye.” She put down the telephone, smiling. She turned to Janette. “He’s crazy.”

  “Your boyfriend?” Janette asked.

  “Sort of,” she answered. “He’s a real head. But nice, if you know what I mean. He’s a vegetarian. He eats nothing but raw vegetables, wheat germ, vitamins and dope. He says he’s going to be a millionaire before he’s twenty-one.”

  “How old is he now?” Janette asked.

  “Almost nineteen.”

  “He’s not allowing himself much time.”

  Lauren smiled. “He just might do it. He says four more crops and he’ll have the right strains.”

  Janette was puzzled. “Strains of what?”

  “Grass,” Lauren answered. “He and a couple of guys are working up in Humboldt County on a strain that will have nothing but buds, no seeds at all. If they pull it off, they’ll have nothing but money.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Janette asked in a puzzled voice.

  Lauren shrugged. “Sure. But nobody seems to pay much attention to i
t.” She picked the bathrobe from the floor and put it around her. “Bobby gave me a few things from your closet. What do you think I ought to wear tonight?”

  “Let me see what you have,” Janette said.

  Lauren opened the closet door. The two dresses and the tuxedo hung there. She turned back to Janette.

  “What would you like to wear?” Janette asked, looking at them.

  Lauren smiled. “I’d like to wear the tuxedo, if you think that’s all right. I never wore anything like it before.”

  Janette was silent for a moment. It wasn’t exactly the sort of evening for it. But if she wanted to wear it—“Okay,” she said. “Let’s both wear smokings.”

  “Fabulous!” Lauren said. “We’ll do a real sister act. I’ll shower and get ready. Will I have time for a joint before we go downstairs?”

  “What for?” Janette asked. “Won’t that bring you down?”

  “Not a Harvey number five,” Lauren said. “It’s really mellow. Puts you in a good mood so that at least you can listen to all the bullshit that people keep laying on you without getting bored out of your head.”

  Janette laughed. “If it really works, I can use some of it.”

  “Great,” Lauren said. “You come back and do it with me. It will be great going to the party stoned together.” She hesitated a moment. “Is it all right if I give Mother a call? I promised I would call her when I got settled.”

  “Of course,” Janette said. She started for the door. “Give them both my most affectionate regards.”

  “She’s going to fuck me, I can feel it,” Philippe said, putting down the telephone and staring morosely across his desk at Marlon.

  Marlon’s voice held no expression. “What makes you think that?”

  “All the signs point that way,” Philippe said. “One, she practically threw a design collection at me, daring me to look at it. I didn’t, of course. But someone had to do those sketches. She said they were hers.”

  “Maybe she did do them herself,” Marlon offered. “It wouldn’t be the first time she showed you some of her ideas.”

  “Then the material manufacturers. It was as if they were all expecting my call. She had been in touch with many of them more than a month ago. They already had all the different swatches in red, which they will ship to me within a day or two.”