“Thank you,” he said, and put down the telephone. He turned in the bed. She was lying on her side on the pillow, her eyes wide open to him. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
“Have you slept well?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I was dreaming all the time.”
He laughed. “You were sleeping. I know that.”
“Too bad,” she said softly. “I kind of preferred the dreaming.”
He bent across her face. “So did I,” he said, kissing her. He sat up. “Would you like some coffee?”
“May I wash first? I smell so much of sex I’d be embarrassed to walk through the plane.”
He laughed.
“I’m not being funny,” she said seriously. “Sexual excitement brings me quickly to multiorgasmic responses.”
He tried to match her seriousness. “I never quite heard it explained like that, Doctor.”
“Yes,” she said. “For example, while you were on the telephone a moment ago, just the sight of your penis even half erect with sleep caused my juices to begin to flow immediately.”
“That’s a problem,” he nodded gravely. “I understand that now.”
“It’s a psychological one, I know,” she said. “But I have to solve it myself.”
He turned on his side to her. “Is that a problem you have to solve right now, Doctor?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, puzzled. “And why are you calling me ‘doctor’? I thought you were going to call me Sofia.”
He pulled her face down to his phallus. “Sofia, Sofia,” he half-laughed. “Don’t you know that half erect is never enough?”
She looked up at him. “Now you are making fun of me?”
“You stupid cunt!” he said, his fingers gripping her hair. With his other hand he pushed himself into her mouth. “Suck it hard if you want to fuck it.”
She pushed away from him angrily. “You’re talking to me as if I were a whore!” she said, tears filling her eyes.
He looked at her for a moment, then brought her face to his own. “No, Sofia,” he said gently, kissing her mouth. “Not as a whore. But as a woman who has been denied too much too long.”
***
She followed him down the spiral staircase to the main deck. He turned when she paused behind him. “Forward of the steps is the business office,” he said, holding the curtains apart so that she could see into it. Merlin was at his desk and there were two men, each at a desk with two data and word-processor screens before them. Merlin turned to see Judd.
“Be with you in a moment,” Judd said, dropping the curtain and leading her back from the staircase. “First is the guest lounge, then the guest staterooms. Behind them are staterooms for the personnel, then the personnel lounge. Both lounges double as dining rooms.”
Her voice was hushed, but impressed. “How many people do you have on this plane?”
“Flight personnel, ten men plus the captain; cabin personnel, nine including the chef and the chief steward, five business personnel plus my assistant and my valet, you and myself making twenty-nine people on board. But we can sleep as many as fifty-one if we need to.”
She shook her head. “It is like a house! Do you really need all that? Just for you?”
He smiled. “I think so. I spend almost thirty-five percent of my life on this plane, traveling because of business. With the kind of equipment we have on board I’m always in touch with my offices and business everywhere in the world.”
“Do all you American businessmen have planes like this?”
“I don’t know,” he smiled. “But many of them have planes and some even more than two or three.”
“Too much,” she said.
“That’s very American,” he said.
“That’s what we said when I went to college in the States.” She smiled. “Too much.”
“Lunch in a half hour, too much too?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m getting hungry.”
He watched her walk through the lounge to her stateroom, then went through the curtains to the office. Merlin rose from his desk. Judd looked at him. “Is it morning or afternoon?” he asked.
“In India, it’s four in the afternoon, about twelve hours into the flight. But this is the next day,” Merlin answered.
“I’ll never get it straight.”
“We have today’s report,” Merlin said.
“Let’s do it,” Judd said, sitting down at the small conference table. Merlin placed a loose-leaf binder on the table. Judd opened it for a moment and then snapped it closed. “Anything special?” he asked. “I’m wiped out.”
“Not much really, it’s the weekend, you know,” Merlin replied. “Just one big one. Malaysia awarded the construction bid to us, fifty-five million dollars for the Pahang River bridge.”
“Shit!” Judd said. “How did we fall into that one? I was sure we high-bid for it.”
“We did,” Merlin said. “But that’s what you have to pay for a good reputation. They said even though we high-bid, they felt more secure with Crane Construction.”
“Balls. We’re going to blow twelve to fourteen million.” He looked up at Merlin. “Check the Jap steel manufacturers. They’re cutting the shit under us and shipping from there is less than from the U.S. or Europe. Maybe we can save four to five million out there.”
“I’ll work on it. I’ll get Judson to go on it out of San Francisco.”
“Any other good news?” Judd asked sourly.
“Doc Sawyer,” Merlin replied. “He said he doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. All he knows about is the genetic engineering experiments and the DNA project out of the Defense Department. He needs more details from you.”
“We’ll talk personally in Miami at the end of the week,” Judd said. “Any word from Security about the doctor?”
“Not yet,” he said. “It should be coming in within a few hours though.”
Judd got up. “Okay. Let’s check after lunch.” He paused for a moment, then looked at Merlin. “By the way, join me for lunch with the doctor if you have time. I’d like to know how you feel about her.”
Lunch was simple. A cup of clear consommé, grilled French loin lamb chops medium rare, garnished with shoestring beans and carrots, finished with a small salad with oil and vinegar and a cheese tray. A ’71 Château Margaux was served throughout the meal, and when the table was cleared, coffee was served in demitasse cups.
Sofia looked at him. “You seem to eat sensibly.”
“Lightly,” he said. “I found when traveling as I do, jet lag cuts me down. Too much food puts me away.”
“Do you do the same, Mr. Merlin?” she asked.
“We all do, Doctor,” he said. “Our meal program was devised by dieticians at the Research Institute for maximum energy development. In the meal program, each of us gets daily a personally prescribed package of vitamins and mineral supplements.”
“Then Mr. Crane does not necessarily take the same vitamins and minerals, for example, as you do?”
“Each of us on the plane has his own formula.”
“How was that decided upon?”
“We have an annual examination at the Crane Medical Center in Boca Raton, Florida. The complete physical usually takes three days.”
“Mr. Crane, as well?”
“Yes.”
She turned to Judd. “Would it be possible for me to be shown the results of your examination?”
Judd nodded, smiling. “Of course. It’s all computerized. I’ll have it aboard the plane by morning.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That should be of great help to me.”
“You’re the doctor,” he said. “Anything you want, just ask.”
“This should be a good beginning,” she said, “before we go further.” She put her demitasse down. “Do you mind if I get some rest, Judd? I’m feeling so tired.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I think that’s a
good idea for me also. I’m scheduled for a banquet at midnight in Pekin.”
He leaned over to Merlin after she had gone. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “She seems straightforward. How good a doctor she is, I’m not qualified to say.”
“The report should give us something on that,” Judd said. “Wake me up the moment it comes in.”
Merlin looked at him. “I know you. Something bothers you.”
“Not about her medical experience,” Judd said. “It’s her cool. That’s more than just her being a doctor. She has antennae. She is aware. She is something more.”
Merlin followed him to the staircase. “I’ll let you know the moment it comes in.”
Judd’s telephone buzzed him awake less than two hours later. “Can I come up?” Merlin asked into his ear.
“I’m awake.” Judd got up from the bed and moved to his lounge as Merlin came through the door. Judd took the photofax from him.
“The medical stuff all checks out,” Merlin said. “It’s only the last few lines that are interesting.”
Judd read quickly. “Security sources from CIA unverified, repeat, unverified rumor that subject recruited by KGB on order from Andropov. Will continue other sources for information.”
Merlin looked at him. “If it’s true, what does she want from us?”
Judd shook his head. “Nothing from us,” he said. “It’s only Zabiski that interests them.”
“You lost me,” Merlin said.
“Zabiski is the smartest bitch of all. She’s not going to let on how or what she does. Even the Russians don’t know. That’s why she unloaded Sofia on me. That’s going to screw up everything for a while.”
“I don’t see that’s doing anything for us.”
Judd smiled at him. “We’ll just keep playing the game. I have a hunch that Zabiski will pass the ball to us when she’s ready.”
“You really believe that?” Merlin asked.
“Yes,” Judd said. “I looked into the old lady’s eyes and touched her hand. I felt her. We were together.”
6
“Quaaludes and Interferon,” Judd said. “I don’t get it. It’s a crazy combination.”
“It’s not as crazy as it seems,” Li Chuan said, leaning over the back of the jump seat in the limousine. “The bottom line is hard currency.” Li Chuan was an American-born Chinese who was the Asian sales manager of Crane Pharmaceuticals in Hong Kong. “By 1980 the production of Quaaludes will be almost banned in the Western world. Europe and Latin America have stopped manufacture already. Pressure in the U.S. is mounting and Lemon is quietly making plans to stop. Already most of the ludes are counterfeit and poor quality, and sold by street dealers.”
“In that case, how come the Chinese are so into it?”
“The Chinese seem to be more responsive to anti-depressants than Americans and most Caucasians. The drug is more effective for them because they metabolize it more slowly so they don’t get highs from it. So as far as they are concerned it’s a legitimate medical practice.” He paused. “The Chinese government takes the view that if their people pop Quaaludes instead of smoking opium, so much the better. Opium and work don’t mix.”
“They know the attitude of the rest of the world,” Judd said.
Li Chuan nodded.
“So the bottom line is—they want Crane Pharmaceuticals to be their pushers around the world.”
“Yes,” Li Chuan agreed. “But they’ll give you a plum. Maybe two hundred percent in the total world supply of interferon. And Crane Pharmaceuticals would be the sole distributor for that.”
“Shit!” Judd stared out of the car. “We’re fucked if we do and we’re fucked if we don’t.”
“If I know our friends,” Li Chuan said, “they are going to ship the Quaaludes anyway, whether we do or not. They smell a lot of money for them.”
Judd said quietly, “Fuck ’em. Pass.” He glanced from the limousine to the plane waiting on the airfield. “I wonder if Sofia is awake yet.”
Merlin smiled. “She should be if you didn’t slip her a mickey.”
“I wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Judd smiled at him. He turned to Li Chuan. “Sofia is the Yugoslavian doctor I told you about.”
Li Chuan nodded smoothly, though his expression had tightened when he heard Judd’s decision about the Quaaludes. “I have a feeling that she will prove interesting.”
***
She awakened slowly into the darkness of her stateroom. It took a moment before she realized that the plane was on the ground and that the power of the jet engines was not gently vibrating her bed. She turned to the digital clock beside her. The soft blue light read 0310.
She sat up in the bed, surprised that she had slept through the landing of the plane. She lifted a window shade and the electric floodlights on the ground around the plane came into her stateroom. Quickly she closed the shade and went into the small bathroom. In the corner of the room was a shower stall. She closed the Plexiglas shower door and took a telephone shower spray. The water was hot and soothing and she held its flow over her shoulders and down across her breasts. A small button on the wall was marked soap. She pressed it; the soap foamed, mixing with the water. Quickly she rinsed the water from herself, then aimed the nozzle of water across her hips. She climaxed almost instantly. She held her breath, afraid that some sound would escape her lips. Then she turned off the shower and pulled a towel around herself and stepped back into her stateroom.
A stewardess was turning down her bed, her back toward her. The shower door clicked and the girl turned to her. “Good morning, Doctor,” the girl said. “I’m Ginny. I’ve just brought you orange juice and coffee.”
Sofia looked at the tray on the night table. “Thank you.” She hesitated a moment. “Are we in Pekin?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Is Mr. Crane aboard?”
“No, Doctor,” Ginny said. “He’s expected back here at 0400 hours.”
“Do you think I’ll have time to look around?” she asked. “I’ve never been in Pekin.”
The stewardess laughed. “That’s one of the problems of this job. I’ve been in many places I haven’t been to. We’re expecting to depart for Hong Kong as soon as Mr. Crane is on board.”
“Mr. Crane hadn’t told me of that,” Sofia said.
“He gave me the message for you. He asked you to go shopping with me and to give me your dress and shoe sizes so we could wire them to Hong Kong. He wants you to obtain a complete wardrobe before going on to San Francisco tomorrow.”
Sofia was annoyed. “I have enough clothes.”
Ginny smiled. “Mr. Crane has his own ideas. He says you have a Paris body so you should have a Paris wardrobe.”
“Is he like that with everyone?”
“Only those he likes,” Ginny said.
Sofia was silent for a moment. “I don’t know my sizes in Western styles.”
Ginny held out her hand. “Give me your towel,” she said. “I have a good eye. I’ll be able to tell.”
Silently Sofia let go the towel. Ginny looked at her appraisingly. “You have a great body,” the stewardess said matter-of-factly. “Five foot seven, bust thirty-seven, waist twenty-five, hips thirty-six. Shoe size about seven.”
“You seem experienced,” Sofia said.
“I like clothes,” Ginny said. “And beautiful bodies.”
Sofia looked at the girl but could see no expression on her face. She reached for the towel, feeling embarrassment. “Thank you.”
Ginny walked to the stateroom door. “I’ll be in the lounge. If there’s anything you might want from me, press the button on the table next to the bed.”
Sofia paused for a moment. “Would you call me the moment Mr. Crane comes aboard?”
“Of course, Doctor.”
“Thank you.” Sofia watched the door close behind the stewardess, then sat down on the bed and lifted the glass of orange juice to her lips.
***
/> “Mr. Crane is aboard,” the stewardess’s voice came through the phone.
“May I talk to him?” Sofia asked.
“Press number eleven on the telephone,” Ginny said. “He’s upstairs in his lounge.”
Sofia pressed the dial. Judd answered. “I would like to speak to you,” she said. “Are you alone?”
“Yes,” he said. “Come up.”
Fast Eddie opened the door for her as she walked into his lounge. He was sipping a glass of Coca-Cola. “Sleep well?” he asked.
“Very well,” she said, an annoyed tone in her voice. “Why do you continue to treat me as a whore?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t need a stupid wardrobe,” she said. “My clothes are good enough.”
“Maybe for Eastern Europe, but not where you’re going,” he said. “And not when you’re with me. You have to be the best.”
She stared at him. “I’m a doctor. Not a fucking model.”
“Then go back to Yugoslavia,” he said. “If you don’t want to look like the beautiful woman you are, I don’t need you. I’m sure there are other doctors that can do what Zabiski wants you to do.”
She was silent.
He picked up a gold vial and spoon. “Here, take a toot. You’ll feel better for it.”
She laughed suddenly. “Now, who’s playing the doctor?”
“You’re the doctor,” he said, holding the gold spoon to her nose. “So forgive me if I see you only as a beautiful woman.”
The cocaine brought her up. “I have forgotten so many things.”
“Now we can get down to business. I have the medical charts you asked for.” He turned and picked up a folder from the desk.
She looked down at it. Across the file folder was his name. JUDD MARION CRANE MEDICAL CHART AND HISTORY. Inside the folder were seven pages of computer printout.
born: 25 june 34 n.y.n.y.
doctors hosp. 5:01 p.m.
genealogy:
father: samuel taylor crane
Descent from Xanadu Page 4