came from a taxi which stopped in Savoy
Court.
It was Sloping yet Argumentative, the
fourth Mrs. MacKenzie Hawkins, the
lovely lady named Anne. She
. hurled herself at Sam, encircling his
neck with her arms pressing her cheek
and various other parts against him.
Instantly she withdrew and rather
awkwardly composed herself. "I'm awful
sorry. Gosh, that was real forward of
me. Please forgive me. It was just so
terrific to see a familiar face."
"Nothing to apologize for," said Sam,
remembering that Sloping yet
Argumentative had appeared to him as the
most naive, as well as the youngest, of
the four wives. She had oohed a lot, if
he recalled correctly. "Are you staying
at the Savoy?"
"Yes. I got in last night. I've never
been to England before, so I spent the
whole day just walking everywhere. Gosh,
my feet are yelling at me." She parted
her very expensive suede coat and
frowned at the lovely legs very much in
evidence below her short skirt.
- "Well, let's get you off them
quickly. Into the bar, I
mean."
"I can't tell yout It's just so marry to
see someone you knowl"
114
"Are you here by yourself?" asked
Devereaux.
"Oh yes. Don, he's my husband now is
so darned busy with his marinas and
restaurants and all those other things
that he just said to me last week in
LA, he said, 'Annie, honey, why don't
you get your pretty little ass out of
the way for a while? This is going to
be a heavy month.' Well, I thought of
Mexico and Palm Springs and all the
usual places, and then I figured,
damn! Annie, you've never been to
London. So off I flew." She nodded
brightly to the Savoy doorman and
continued as Sam gestured her through
the entrance into the lobby. "Don
thought I was crazy. I mean, who do I
know in England? But I think that was
part of it, you know? I wanted to go
someplace where there weren't all the
usual faces. Somewhere really differ-
ent."
"I hope I didn't spoil it."
"How?"
"Well, you said I was a familiar
face "
"Oh, my, no! I said familiar, but I
didn't mean familiar: I mean, one
little short afternoon at Ginny's
isn't that kind of familiar."
"I see what you mean. The lounge is
right up those stairs." Sam nodded
toward the steps on the left that led
to the Savoy's American Bar. But Anne
stopped, still holding onto his arm.
"Major," she began haltingly, "my
feet are still screaming and my neck
is sore from looking up and my
shoulder's aching from this darned
purse strap. I'd really love to spend
a little time straightening myself
out."
"Oh, sure," replied Devereaux. "I'm
being thoughtless. And stupid. As a
matter of fact I was going to do some,
er, straightening out myself. I left
my shaving gear in Switzerland." He
held up the bag from the Strand Chem-
ists.
"Well then, that's marvel"
"I'll call you in about an hour "
"Why do that? Have you seen the size
of those johnnies upstairs? Wowl
They're bigger than some of Don's
ladies' rooms. In his restaurants, I
mean. There's plenty of room. And
those big, groovy towels. I swear
they're terry cloth sheets!" She
squeezed his arm and smiled
ingenuously.
115
"Well, it is solution "
"The only one. Come on, we'll get some
drinks from room service and really
relax." They started for the elevator
n
"It's very kind of you "
"Kmd, hell! Ginny told us you called.
She positively forded it over us. Now
it's my turn. You were in Geneva?"
Sam stopped. "I said Switzerland "
"Isn't that Geneva?"
Anne's suite was also on the Thames
side, also on the sixth Hoor, and
conveniently no more than fifty feet
down the corridor.from his.
Su~itze7land. Isn't that Geneva?
Several thoughts crossed Devereaux's
mind, but he was entirely too exhausted
to dwell on them. And, for the first
time in days, entirely too relaxed to
let them interfere.
The rooms were very like his own.
High ceilings with real moldings;
marvelous old furniture polished, func-
tionaWdesks and tables and pictures and
chairs and a sofa that would do credit
to Parke-Bernet; mantel clocks and
lamps that were neither nailed down nor
with imbedded plastic cards proclaiming
ownership; tall casement win-, cows,
flanked by regal drapes, that looked
out on the river with the lights of
small boats, the buildings beyond, and
especially Waterloo Bridge'
He was in the sitting room, on the
pillowed sofa, with his shoes off and
a tall drink in his hand. The London
Philharmonic was on BBC1, playing a
Vivaldi concerto, and the warmth from
a heater filled the room with a
splendid comfort. Good things came to
the deserving, thought Sam.
Anne came out of the bathroom and
stopped in the frame of the doorway.
Devereaux's glass was suddenly checked
on its way to his lips. She was
dressed if that was the word in a
translucent sheath that at once left
little to, yet completely provoked, the
imagination. Her Sloping yet
Argumentative breasts swelled to
blushing points beneath the soft,
single layer of fabric; her long,-
light-brown hair fell casually and
sensually over her shoul116
ders, framing her extraordinary
endowments. Her tapered legs were
outlined under the sheath.
Without saying a word, she raised
her hand and beckoned him with her
finger. He rose from the sofa and
followed.
Inside the huge, tiled bathroom, the
enormous Savoy tub was filled with
steaming water; several thousand bub-
bles gave off the scent of roses and
wet springtime. Anne reached up and
removed his tie, and then his shirt,
and then unstrapped his buckle,
unzipped his trousers and lowered them
to the floor. He kicked them free
himself.
She placed her hands on both sides
of his waist and pulled down his
shorts, kneeling as she did so.
He sat on the edge of the warm tub
while she pulled off his socks; and
she held his left arm as he slid over
the side,
his body disappearing under
the steaming white bubbles.
She stood up, undid a yellow bow at
her neck, and the sheath fell to the
floor on top of the thick white rug.
She was utterly magnificent.
And she got into the tub with Sam.
"Do you want to go down to dinner?"
asked the girl from beneath the
covers.
"Sure," replied Devereaux from under
same.
"Do you know we slept for over three
hours? It's nearly nine-thirty." She
stretched; Sam watched. "After we eat,
let's go to one of those pubs."
"If you like," said Devereaux, still
watching her, his head on the pillow.
She was sitting up now, the sheet had
fallen to her waist. Sloping yet
Argumentative were challenging all
they surveyed.
"Gosh," Anne spoke softly, a touch
awkwardly, as she turned and looked
down at Sam, who could barely see her
face. "I'm being real forward again."
"Friendly's a better word. I'm
friendly, too."
"You know what Lmean." She bent over
him and kissed him on both eyes. "You
may have other plans; things you have
to do or something."
"Things I want to do," interrupted
Devereaux warmly. "All plans are
completely flexible, subject only to
whim and pleasure."
117
"That sounds sexy as hell."
"I feel sexy as hell."
"Thank you."
"Thank you." Sam reached above and
beyond her soft lovely back and pulled
the sheet over them.
Ten minutes later (it was either ten
minutes or several hours, thought
Devereaux) they made the decision:
They really did need food, preceded,
of course, by short, smoky drams of
iced whiskey, which they had in the
sitting room, on the pillowed couch,
under two soft, enormous bath towels.
"I think the word is 'sybaritic.'"
Sam adjusted the terry cloth over his
lap. BBC1 was now playing a Noel
Coward medley and the smoke from their
cigarettes drifted into the sprays of
warm orange light from the fireplace.
Only two lamps were turned on; the
room was dreamed of in a thousand
ballads.
"Sybaritic has a selfish meaning,"
said the girl. "We share, that's not
selfish."
Sam looked at her. Hawkins's fourth
wife was no idiot. How in hell did he
do it? Had he done it? "The way we
share, it's sybaritic, believe me."
"If you want me to," she answered,
smiling and putting her glass down on
the coffee table.
"It s not important. Why don't we
dress and go eat.?"
"All right. I'll just be a few
seconds." She saw his questioning
expression. "No, I will. I don't
dawdle for hours. Mac once said " She
stopped, embarrassed.
"It's okay,"-he said gently. 'I'd
really like to hear."
"Well, he once said that if you try
to change the outside too much, you
can't help but mix up the inside. And
you shouldn't do that unless there's
a goddamned good reason. Or if you
really don't like yourself" She swung
her legs out from under her and rose
from the couch, holding the towel
around her body. "One, I don't see any
reason; and two, I kind of like me.
Mac taught me that, too. I like us."
"So do I," said Devereaux. "When
you're finished, we'll go down to my
room and I'll change."
"Good. I'll button your shirt and
tie your tie." She grinned and dashed
through the foyer door into the bed-
room. Devereaux got up naked, throwing
the long towel 118
over his shoulder, and went to the
side table where the bar was set up in
a silver tray. He poured q small
quantity of Scotch and thought about
Mac Hawkins's barroom philosophy.
Change the outside too much you mix
up the inside. . It wasn't bad, all
things considered.
The tiny white light shone between
the red and green bulbs on the small
panel beside Devereaux's door. Sam and
the girl saw it simultaneously as they
walked down the corridor and
approached his suite. It was the sign
that a message was at the front desk
for the guest. Devereaux swore under
his breath.
Goddamn it! Geneva had not been
erased that quickly. Or so completely,
either. The least Hawkins could do was
to let him get a decent night's sleep!
"One of those lights was on for me
this afternoon," said Anne. "I came
back to change my shoes and found it;
it means you have a phone call."
"Or a message."
"Mine was a call. From Don in Santa
Monica. I finally got him back; you
know, it was only eight o'clock in the
morning in California."
"Nice of him to get up and phone."
"Not so. My husband owns two things
in Santa Monica: a restaurant and a
girl. The restaurant's not open at
eight in the morning; forgive my
bitchiness. I think Don just wanted to
make sure I was really seven thousand
miles away." Anne smiled up at him
naively. He was not sure how to
respond' all things considered.
"Seems like a lot of trouble for,
well, for checking up." Sam.snapped on
the light switch in his foyer. Beyond,
the sitting room lamps were on, as he
had left them five hours ago.
"My husband suffers from a mental
illness peculiar to cheap strayers. As
a lawyer, I'm sure you're familiar
with it. He's paranoid about getting
caught. Not morally, you understand;
when he's juiced up, he flaunts that
part. Just financially; he's scared to
death some court will make him pay big
if I opt for out."
They walked into his sitting room;
he wanted to say something but, again,
all things considered he was not 119
sure what it should be. He chose the
safest. "I think the man's out of his
mind." $'
"You're sweet, but you didn't have
to say it. On the other hand, I
suppose it's the safest thing you
could say
"Let's find another subject," he
interrupted quickly indicating the
couch and the coffee table with the
Savoysupplied newspapers on it. ' Sit
down and I'll be with you in a minute.
I haven't forgotten: You button the
shirt and tie the tie." Sam started
for the bedroom door.
"Aren't you going to call the desk?"
"It can wait," he answered from the
bedroom. 1 have no intention of
letting anything inte
rfere with a
quiet dinner. Or for that matter,
showing you a pub or two, if they're
still open when we're finished."
You really should find out who's
trying to reach you. It could be
important."
"You're important," shouted Sam,
removing a tan double-knit suit from
the awkward hanger in his suitcase.
"It could be something vital," said
the girl from the sitting room.
'You're vital," he replied,
selecting a red-striped shirt from the
next layer of clothes.
I can't ever not answer a phone, or
check for messages, or call back even
a name I never heard of; that's being
too casual."
"You're not a lawyer. Ever tried to
get a lawyer the day after you've
hired him? His secretary is trained to
lie with the conviction of Aimee
Semple McPherson."
"Why?" Anne was now standing in the
bedroom doorway.
"Well, he's got your money; he's
scrounging around for another fee.
What the hell, your case probably
entails an exchange of letters with
the opposing attorney, other
explanations notwithstanding. He
doesn't want complications."
Anne approached him as he slipped on
the red-striped shirt. She
nonchalantly began buttoning it.
'You're a very cool Clyde. Here you
are in strange country "
"Not so strange," he broke in,
smiling. "I've been here before. I'm
your tour guide, remember?"
Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt Page 17