“What excuse is that for them to be standing around doing nothing?” he asked angrily. “They are being paid to do their jobs, not to gossip.”
“There is nothing for them to do,” Miss Martin said.
“What do you mean, nothing?” He was getting angrier. “Why not?”
She picked up a telegram lying on his desk and gave it to him. “Our franchises have been revoked. That’s the last one. It just came in about an hour ago.”
He looked down at it and then picked up the other telegrams from his desk. They all read practically the same. The two Italian companies, the two English companies, the French company and the Swedish company. He looked up at her. “When did this happen?” he asked.
“It began the morning you left for Mexico,” she said. “I don’t understand it. It was almost as if someone gave the signal.”
He looked down at the telegrams in his hand again. Angrily he threw them back on the desk. The Society was so sure of itself. So sure he would be dead that they didn’t need to continue the franchises with his company. He would have to reach Matteo now. This business had gone far enough.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cardinali,” Miss Martin said sympathetically. “I tried to reach you but you had already left the hotel for the race. I guess it was because of all that business in the newspapers.”
He didn’t answer. He was thinking. Someone would have to get a message to the postmaster in his village in Sicily. He was sure that Matteo was in the country somewhere but he could spend the next twenty years and not find him. His secretary’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He stared at her. “What else is there to do?” He shrugged. “Give everybody their severance pay and lay them off. Tell them we’ll call them back as soon as the situation clears up.”
“Do you think it will?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, starting for the door. He stopped and looked back at her. “And, frankly, I don’t give a damn!”
22
Cesare turned the key in the lock. He swung open the door. “Go on in,” he said to Luke.
She walked into the apartment and he followed her, closing the door behind him. Ileana’s voice came from the bedroom.
“Is that you, Cesare?”
He looked at Luke for a moment. Her face was expressionless. Then he smiled. “Yes, Ileana,” he called.
Her voice still came from the bedroom. “I don’t know what this world is coming to! All the rich Texans I meet are either married or phonies! This one actually wanted me to help him shop for his wife!”
He couldn’t keep his smile from growing broader as the expression on Luke’s face became more fixed. “That’s too bad, Ileana,” he said.
“I can’t hear you,” she replied. “But no matter. I’ve had Tonio ice up some champagne for us. It’s on the liquor cabinet. Be a dear, will you, and pour some for me. I’ll be out in a minute!”
He walked over to the liquor cabinet. The champagne was there in an ice bucket with two glasses. Solemnly he took down another glass and stood it next to the others. Then he opened the bottle and began to pour the wine.
Ileana came to the doorway, tying the belt of her negligee. She was smiling. “I couldn’t wait for you—” Her smile faded as she saw Luke standing in the center of the room. She cast a questioning glance at Cesare.
He looked from one to the other, enjoying the situation. “I believe you ladies have only met en passant.” He smiled. “Allow me to introduce you.”
He performed the introduction and gave each of them a glass of wine. He raised his glass in a toast. “To a happy friendship.” He smiled and drank.
Ileana looked at Luke coldly. Then she turned to Cesare, smiling sweetly. “Though she is a little thin, don’t you think your apartment is still too small for a ménage à trois?” she asked in French.
Cesare answered in the same language. “Don’t be a cat, Ileana. She has unsuspected talents.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Ileana said dryly. “But if the hotel management objects to one, how do you think they will feel about two? Or have you told them you’ve turned Moslem?”
It was then the idea came to Cesare. He knew how to contact Matteo. The smile broadened on his lips. “It does not matter to them at all,” he continued in French. “You see I have already told them you are leaving for Italy tonight and that she will occupy your room until you return!”
Ileana stared at him. “I will not do it!” she said angrily, still in French. “I will not step aside while you roll in the hay with that chienne!” She flung the glass at him and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
The glass smashed against the cabinet and shattered into tiny fragments. Cesare looked down at them, then up at Luke. “Ileana has a rather quick temper,” he said in English.
“The important thing is, will she go?” Luke asked in perfect French.
He stared at her for a moment, then began to laugh. “You understood?”
She was smiling now. “Every word,” She nodded. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” The smile faded from her lips. “Will she go?”
“Of course she will,” Cesare said confidently, still smiling. “Ileana and I are old friends. She will do anything for me.”
***
Tonio put down the telephone and went back into the dining room. They looked up at him. “It was the airlines, Excellency,” he said to Cesare. “They confirmed the Baroness’ reservation for tonight!”
“Thank you, Tonio,” Cesare said.
Ileana waited until Tonio had gone, then she turned to Cesare. “I won’t do it!” she said angrily. “I don’t care what you say. I won’t do it!”
Cesare stared at her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Luke looking at him with a knowing expression. He began to get angry. “You will do as I say, Ileana!” he said, his voice going hard. “Or would you like the immigration authorities to learn that you do not really work for me?”
Ileana looked over at Luke. Luke kept her eyes down on her plate. “Why don’t you send her?” Ileana asked resentfully.
“You know I can’t,” Cesare snapped. “She would stick out like a sore thumb. Now, finish eating and pack your things. The jet to Rome leaves at midnight.”
Angrily Ileana threw down her spoon and stormed from the table. They heard the door slam angrily behind her.
Luke looked up from her plate. There was a faint smile on her lips. “Ileana will do anything for me,” she mimicked sarcastically.
Cesare stared at her, scowling. “Shut up!” he snapped angrily. “She’s going, isn’t she?”
***
Ileana came into her room and locked the door behind her. She crossed the room quickly and picked up the telephone and gave the operator a number. A voice answered. “Mr. Baker, please,” she said.
He came on to the phone. “Yes?”
“He is sending me to Sicily, Mr. Baker,” she said quickly in a low voice. “To his village. I’m to see the postmaster there and give him a message.”
Baker’s voice picked up interest. “What message?” he asked.
“It is this,” Ileana said quoting. “‘Tell my uncle that I must meet with him.’ Then I’m to wait in the hotel until the postmaster gives me an answer to bring back to him.”
“Good,” Baker said. “Now we’re beginning to get somewhere.”
Ileana could feel the fear rising inside her. “Good. Is that all you have to say, Mr. Baker? Maybe you don’t know it but Cesare’s uncle has been dead for almost twelve years! One does not carry messages to and from a dead man!”
“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “The uncle you are taking a message to is very much alive. In the Society each man’s sponsor is addressed by him as ‘Uncle.’”
Her voice was suddenly very low. “If it is the Mafia I’m carrying a message to, Mr. Baker, then I am really frightened. They would not hesitate to kill me!”
“I
told you before not to worry,” he said still soothingly. “There will be a man on the plane with you and every place you go. You will never be alone. You did say you preferred rich Texans, didn’t you? Well, look for the one on the plane with you.”
Slowly she put down the telephone and lit a cigarette. She walked over to the French doors, opened them and walked out on the terrace in spite of the cold. She looked down at the city, its lights sparkling coldly in the winter night.
The sound of voices came floating up to her. Curiously, she looked over the parapet and down. The voices didn’t come from the street but from the floor below her. Her balcony was set back from the one below. There was a young man and a girl in a close embrace down there.
In the night she could see the girl’s white face turn upward in a kiss. They seemed oblivious to the cold. She shivered slightly and started back inside. She closed the doors carefully behind her.
It had been a long time since she had felt like the girl down there. Vaguely she wondered if she ever would feel like that again. Suddenly she knew she never could. That was behind her, left in her mother’s bedroom when she was nineteen years old.
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 com
e 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’?”
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.”
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