by Mark Arundel
‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘Good evening, Miss. This way.’
He led them into the restaurant and took them to a small table. It had a position from which others could easily observe them.
‘It’s a pleasure to have you at the 21 Club,’ he told them. He pulled out the chair for Natalie. They took off their coats and handed them over before sitting down.
‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘I’ll have a Rheingold and the lady will have a champagne cocktail.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ the waiter said and hurried away.
Rafferty grimaced as he watched him go. Natalie was smiling at him. Rafferty looked at her and she laughed.
‘You’re not funny,’ he said reproachfully.
She laughed again and then looked around.
‘I like it here. It has a warm feeling.’
A different waiter came back with their drinks. He was younger and gawked frequently at Natalie.
Rafferty ordered without reading the menu.
‘I’ll have the steak.’
The waiter wrote it down.
‘What would you like to have with it, sir?’
‘Bring everything.’
‘Everything, yes, sir,’ he said, writing something down. He looked at Natalie.
‘I’ll have the steak, too. Also, with everything,’ she told him. This time, he didn’t write it down. He continued to stare at her for a few seconds too long and then hurried off.
The restaurant was full with every table occupied. It had that feeling as though it was the only place to be at that exact moment and by being there, you were in some way special. Natalie was right; it did have a warm feeling. They both took a sip of their drink and stared at each other, realising at the same time that at least a dozen pairs of eyes were on them. Rafferty scanned the room before focusing back on Natalie.
‘It seems you really are famous,’ he said. ‘Even here in New York.’
‘I told you,’ she said and then while narrowing her eyes asked, ‘you haven’t seen any of my films, have you?’
Rafferty smiled.
‘Before meeting you yesterday I couldn’t have picked you out of a line-up of two.’
Natalie laughed.
‘Tell me about your films and your career,’ he said.
‘Well, I started in films at the age of five. I had a very controlling mother who wanted her daughter to be a child star. It worked too, at the age of sixteen I co-starred in a big Hollywood hit and after that, every director wanted me. Now, at the age of twenty-five, I’m a three-time Oscar nominee. I’ve not won but I will.’
‘It’s impressive. What else?’
‘Well, I married at eighteen, as you know, and divorced earlier this year. He’s a Hollywood actor, not the best but the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.’
‘Why did you divorce?’
‘Well,’ she said. This time, the pause was longer. ‘I came home unexpectedly—filming had finished early.’ Natalie paused again and stared at Rafferty before she said, ‘I walked in on him in our bed... he was with a man.’
There was a silence and then Rafferty laughed. Natalie watched him and then laughed as well. It was the first time she had been able to talk about it. His laughter helped her see it as funny. They laughed together. When they stopped, he didn’t make any comment about it and Natalie appreciated his understanding.
‘Tell me something else,’ he said.
‘I’ve had five lovers including my husband and I don’t think any of them were any good. With my husband I now know the reason,’ she said. By making the joke she knew she had begun to recover.
‘What else?’ he said.
‘I dated Elvis,’ she said and then made her eyes big. ‘He can sing, but he can’t do much else.’ Her grin was wicked.
Rafferty laughed.
Just then, their steaks arrived.
The food looked and smelt wonderful. The waiter was saying something but Rafferty wasn’t listening; he was piling on potatoes and preparing his steak knife for action. Natalie was poking hers with the serrated, pointed weapon. Rafferty was already chomping on his first mouthful.
‘How is it?’
‘Not bad, for horse meat.’
Natalie poked it again and then started eating and Rafferty ordered a second beer.
‘Can I have one, please?’ she asked.
‘Two Rheingold,’ Rafferty called out to the waiter, who turned back.
‘…yes, sir,’ he said.
They sipped their ice-cold beers and chewed on their thick steaks.
‘So, tell me the real reason why you’ve never married.’
‘There was someone, but it just wasn’t possible.’
‘Where is she now?’
Rafferty paused before he answered.
‘She’s dead,’ he said.
Natalie stared at him for a long time.
He sipped his beer.
‘Okay, not personal questions. Tell me about your job instead. Isabella tells me you work for the government, very top secret, something to do with national security.’
She leant forward conspiratorially and moved her eyes from side to side theatrically.
‘Are you a spy?’ she said and then giggled.
Rafferty smiled and then leant forward so their faces were very close. He turned serious and fixed her with a stare.
‘I don’t want to have to kill you,’ he said.
She laughed and then he smiled.
‘Have you ever killed anyone?’ she asked.
‘I was a combat soldier in the war.’
‘Is that yes?’
Rafferty changed the subject.
‘Do you want to make it six?’ he asked.
For a moment, Natalie didn’t understand and then she blushed and looked away. There was a silence. She looked back at him and her blush was gone. Instead, there was excitement, life, anticipation. A flicker of something womanly, carnal; it came and went leaving in its place a confident, definite smile.
‘Yes, I do,’ she said in a slow voice.
They smiled and their eyes locked in a forceful exchange of wanting. They had passed into the sexual dimension. Their relationship had moved fast and for a moment, they both considered the risk, but only for a moment. The power of their hunger drove them forward.
Natalie experienced a sexual rush at the expectation of what she was going to do with the man opposite. She had felt excited ever since waking up that morning, and in the changing room at Saks she had felt so hot inside. She remembered touching herself.
Rafferty had made his decision when she had told him the truth about her husband. He wasn’t sure where it would go, or even if it would go anywhere, but he did know how attractive she was and how much he desired her. It was time for him to start living again.
He paid with cash and left a big tip.
‘I hope you enjoyed your visit to the 21 Club?’ said the Maitre d’ as they were leaving.
Natalie smiled at him.
‘Yes, thank you, very much,’ she told him and then took Rafferty’s arm.
As they stepped outside into the cold and dark Manhattan night, a white flash of light blinded them. The photographer’s bulb popped as he snapped his target: the young recently divorced Hollywood star with her mystery dinner date. His tip-off was going to pay handsomely.
Although it had surprised him, Rafferty reacted instantly. He couldn’t allow his face to appear in a newspaper and certainly not arm in arm with a famous movie star stepping out of the 21 Club. He covered the short distance in a couple of quick strides and pulled the camera from the man’s grasp, which caused the strap around his neck to snap and painfully twang his ear. The photographer was a tall, heavy man with a square jaw and a thick brow. His hand went to his stinging ear and his anger flared; deprived of his picture and the money it would make him he went for Rafferty with his fists clenched. Rafferty saw the attack coming and moved his weight, dipping at the knees and balancing his feet in preparatio
n. The man swung a right hook. Rafferty took a step forward and dodged the blow leaving the man to punch the air and unbalance himself. Rafferty countered with a double strike to the man’s stomach. This stopped him and made him double over. The blows had winded him and he was struggling for breath. Rafferty kept one eye on him as he flipped open the camera and pulled out the film. He put it in his pocket and dropped the camera on the ground.
‘Do your cab trick,’ he said. ‘Look, there’s one.’
The parked yellow car was across the street. Natalie whistled loudly. The cab pulled out and headed towards them.
‘Is this how combat soldiers behave?’ she said. He looked at her. It was a sharp observation. He considered whether to answer. He decided not to. He opened the cab door.
‘Get in,’ he said.
As the cab drove off, the photographer lifted his head and he and Natalie exchanged glances.
Rafferty regretted acting so violently before attempting negotiation. Not that negotiation would have worked.
‘I can’t let a picture of me appear with you,’ he said. ‘Everyone would want to know who I am. It’s one of the rules of my job with the government. I hope you understand.’
Natalie didn’t answer.
‘Have you changed your mind?’ he said.
She looked at him quizzically.
‘Number six,’ he said.
She smiled at him.
‘No. I haven’t changed my mind.’
Rafferty turned to the cab driver.
‘Can you drive faster?’ he said.
Natalie laughed and hugged his arm.
Back in the apartment, they both felt a little self-conscious but it didn’t last long. Their anticipation quickly overcame it. Seeing, touching, feeling and being, the action of life, the physical confirmation of body and soul, was taking and possessing them like an unswerving faith, stronger than the chains that held Samson.
Rafferty went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Rheingold. He snapped the bottle top and took a swig of the cold, fizzy beer.
‘Do you want anything?’
Her eyes were big and brown. She smiled provocatively and took the bottle from his hand. She tipped her head and swallowed a mouthful, passed it back and then unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing black underwear. She shook her hair and stood with one hip pushed out and her arms by her sides letting him see her. She enjoyed men looking at her. As with all women, she was curvier naked than when dressed, no matter how tightly fitting the clothes.
Just then, the telephone rang. They both looked at it.
‘Hello,’ Rafferty answered.
It was Isabella.
‘How has your day been? How’s Natalie? Have you two hit it off? Tell me everything. No, put Natalie on, she can tell me.’
‘She’s taking a bath.’
‘Oh, then she’s staying another night.’
‘I’ve got to go; Natalie is calling out. It’s something about towels.’
‘Oh, all right, listen, ask Natalie to call me in the morning. Promise me.’
‘Okay, I will.’
He replaced the receiver. Natalie was watching him.
‘Isabella has a soft spot for you,’ she said.
‘She doesn’t know me that well.’
‘Nor me.’
Rafferty went to Natalie and his arms pulled her close. She put her hands on his chest and lifted her face. He kissed her slowly letting her lips move and part. She pulled back, undid the clasp and pulled off her bra. He looked at her breasts, then held them, and then squeezed them. Her body reacted immediately, desperate to have him. He sensed her excitement and quickly undressed. She watched through dark, shiny eyes. His hard, strong body was thrilling. He also stood and allowed her to look at him, but he was completely naked. Her gaze went to below his waist and her eyes grew bigger. She saw he had two recent cuts. There was one across his ribs and the other on his upper arm. Her lips parted as she continued to stare and then she looked up at his face and smiled.
‘You’ve got very strong thighs,’ she said and then giggled. She pulled her panties off and dropped them on the floor. They kissed again and their hands ran over each other’s body. Rafferty took her hand.
‘Come on,’ he said and led her towards his bedroom. She skipped happily after him. They landed on the bed and their legs, arms and heads mingled and entwined. Their desires found an almost unfathomable depth of enjoyment, timing and pleasure. Not always the case with the first time; not that it remained their first time for long. They continued repeatedly. It was a long time before they fell into an exhausted and contented sleep.
In the morning, they brushed their teeth together in Rafferty’s bathroom. He had a new toothbrush, which she used. Then they showered together and had sex standing up. Natalie had never done it standing up before. She especially liked it when he turned her around, pushed her over tight against the tiles and was forceful with her. She had been right—none of the previous five had been any good at it.
Natalie handed him a mug of coffee with a lover’s smile.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
Just then, the telephone rang. Rafferty thought it would be Isabella.
‘Hello.’
‘This is Karen Brekke.’
Rafferty looked over at Natalie who was sipping her tea.
‘I’ll call you back,’ he said.
He went to the den and closed the door. He dialled the number.
‘Hello, Karen Brekke.’
‘This is Bluebeard,’ he said.
‘I have to meet with you,’ she said.
Rafferty was a little surprised, but then again why should he be.
He hadn’t answered her while he thought.
‘Are you there?’ she said.
‘Why, what is it?’
‘I have a file. I have to give it to you in person,’ she said.
‘Meet me in the park outside the children’s zoo. Do you know it?’
‘Yes, when?’ she said.
‘In fifteen minutes.’
‘How will I know you?’
‘You’ve read my file. You’ve seen my picture,’ he said.
‘It was taken some years ago,’ she said.
‘I haven’t changed. Describe yourself to me.’
‘Why?’
‘So I know it’s you.’
Karen paused for a second.
‘I’m average height, slim build, twenty-nine, blue eyes, fair hair—natural—my parents are Scandinavian. I’ll be wearing a fawn coat with big buttons down the front.’
‘Don’t get too close to the lions,’ he said.
‘There aren’t any lions at the zoo.’
‘That’s lucky,’ he said.
He left the den, grabbed his coat, wallet and keys.
‘I’ve got to go out. I won’t be long.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Call Isabella, but don’t tell her we had sex,’ he said.
Rafferty pulled the door shut and rode the elevator. I didn’t go running this morning, he thought, and then smiled, but I did have sex in the shower.
Then he remembered Marilyn and his smile went away.
40 December 27, 1963, Manhattan, New York
Karen Brekke wanted to deliver the file personally.
She could have made other arrangements but she didn’t. Certainly, she had read Rafferty’s file and many other files to which he had connections, and now she was taking the opportunity to meet him.
He had an intriguing story: orphaned at a young age following a car crash, which killed both parents. His father had been a professional baseball player. There were no siblings and no other family. His parents had been Irish immigrants who met aboard ship during their journey across the Atlantic. A wealthy friend of his father’s on the Gold Coast of Long Island raised him. He joined the military at eighteen and in World War II he fought with an elite commando unit. In the Allied advance through Italy, his command unit was the first
to reach Rome. After the war, the government recruited him into national security. He was involved in the Korean War. His sudden dismissal followed the Cuban revolution and the Bay of Pigs incident. He had never married and there were no references to any significant relationships.
Karen buttoned her fawn coat, picked up the attaché case containing the file and left the Burbank office. She walked down Fifth Avenue. It wasn’t far to the park and it didn’t take long. The entrance to the zoo was busy and she searched for him. She couldn’t see him. It was three or four minutes before she sensed someone behind her. She turned and there he was.
‘Let’s walk,’ he said.
They moved away and followed the path.
The description she had given was accurate. Rafferty had spotted her easily. She had been standing alone with a tight grasp on the case.
They walked and Karen looked at him. He was hard and assured, rougher than she had expected. His face was cold and his eyes unsympathetic. She felt both scared and safe at the same time.
‘What’s the file?’ he asked.
She stopped, opened the case and handed him the folder.
‘I received a telex from Patrick Smith,’ she said. ‘A copy of it is in the file together with documents he instructed you were to be given.’
Rafferty opened the folder and scanned the contents. He closed it again. She realised the meeting was over and that he was going to leave.
‘Do you want to get a coffee?’ she asked.
He stopped and turned. He smiled and his cold eyes turned friendly.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said.
Karen stood and watched him leave.
Back at the apartment, Rafferty made a coffee. Natalie was still on the telephone to Isabella. She smiled at him and made a face. He went to the den and put the folder in the Salamander safe.
Natalie came in just as he was closing the safe door. He turned to her.
‘Isabella sends her love,’ she said with a cheeky smile.
Rafferty’s expression was cold.
‘I have to leave on business,’ he said.
Her face dropped.
‘…when?’
‘…straight away. I’ll call Isabella and ask her to send the car for you. She’ll look after you until your flight home tomorrow.’