120
.j
"I mean, you've just come from
Geneva where you obviously had a bad
time "
'Not so bad. I survived."
" and now someone is desperately
trying to find you "
"What's desperate? I don't know
anybody so desperate."
"For Christ's sakel" The girl yanked
his collar as she fastened it. "Things
like this make me nervous!"
"Why?"
"I feel responsible!"
"You shouldn't." Devereaux was
fascinated. Anne was very serious. He
wondered....
And the telephone rang.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Samuel Devereaux?" asked the
precise voice of a male Britisher.
"Yes, this is Sam Devereaux."
"I've been waiting for your call "
"I just got in," interrupted Sam. "I
haven't checked my messages yet. Who
is this?"
"At the moment, merely a telephone
number."
Devereaux paused, annoyed. "Then I
should tell you you would have waited
all night. I don't return calls to
telephone numbers."
"Come, sir," was the agitated reply.
"You're not expecting any other caller
of consequence."
"That's a little presumptuous, I think
"Think whatever you like, sir! I'm
in- a great hurry and quite put out
with you. Now, where do you wish to
meet?"
"I don't know that I want to. Fuck
off, Basil, or whatever the hell your
name is."
The pause was now on the other end
of the line. Sam could hear heavy
breathing. In seconds the telephone
number spoke. "For God's sake, have
pity on an old man. I've done you no
harm."
Sam was suddenly touched. The voice
had cracked slightly; the man was
desperate. He remembered Hawkins's
last conversation. "Are you "
"No names, please!".
"All right. No names. Are you
recognizable?"
"Extremely. I thought you knew that."
"I didn't. So we meet someplace out
of the way."
121
"Very much so. I thought you knew
that, too."
"Stop saying that!" Devereaux was as
much annoyed with Hawkins as he was
with the Englishman on the telephone.
"Then you'd better choose it, unless
you want to come to the Savoy."
"Impossible! That's kind of you. I
have several apartment buildings in
Belgravia. Ones the Empire Arms; do
you know it?
"I can find it."
"Good. I'll be there. Flat four
seven. It will take me an hour to get
into London."
"Don't hurry. I don't want to meet in
an hour."
"Oh? At what time then?"
"When do the pubs close these days?"
"Midnight. A little over an hour."
"Shit!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'll see you at one o'clock."
"Very well. The Empire security will
be alerted. Remember, no names. Just
flat four seven."
"Four seven."
"And, Devereaux. Bring the papers."
"What papers?"
The pause was longer now, the
English breathing heavier. "That
goddamned agreement, you ass.
The girl not only accepted the fact
that their dinner would be short and
that he had to leave the hotel, but
she seemed positively elated.
Sam was wondering less and less. The
why escaped him, but the what was
becoming clearer. He agreed to have a
nightcap with her when he returned.
The hour was unimportant, Anne said;
she gave him a key.
The taxi stopped at the curb in
front of the Empire Arms. At Sam's
mention of flat four seven, he was led
by a doorman in a series of swift,
secretive movements that took him
through service doors, a short back
staircase, a freight elevator, and the
delivery entrance of the flat.
An ominous looking man with a north
country accent asked for
identification and then led Sam
through a pantry, a large living room,
a hallway, and finally to a small
dimly 122
lit library where a rather ugly little
old man sat in shadows by the window.
The door closed. Devereaux stood,
adjusting his eyes to the light and
the unattractive ancient in the
armchair.
"Mr. Devereaux naturally," said the
wrinkled old man.
"Yes. You must be the Danforth Hawkins
spoke of,"
"Lord Sidney Danforth." The ugly
little person spat out the ugly words,
then suddenly his voice was syrup. "I
don't know how your employer pieced
together what he did, nor do I for a
moment admit anything; it's all so
preposterous. And so long ago.
Nevertheless, I am a good man, a
charitable man. Quite a wonderful man.
Give me the damned papers!"
"What?"
"The agreement, you insufferable
bastard!"
Stunned, Sam reached into his breast
pocket where he had 4 folded copy of
the Shepherd Company's limited
partnership. He crossed to the ugly
little person and gave it to him.
Danforth swung out a portable desk
panel from somewhere at the side of
the armchair and snapped on a bright
worklight at the top of the board. He
grabbed the papers and started
scanning them.
"Fine!" said Danforth, wheezing,
Sipping over the pages. "They say
absolutely nothing!" The little
Britisher reached for a pen and began
filling in the blank lines. When he
had finished, he refolded the papers
and handed them distastefully to
Devereaux. "Now, get out! I am a
marvelous man, a magnanimous provider,
a humble multimillionaire whom
everyone adores. I have richly
deserved the extraordinary honors
heaped upon my person. Everybody knows
that. And nobody, I repeat, nobody
could conceivably associate me with
such madness! I am only spreading
brotherhood do you understand me?
Brotherhood, I sayi"
"I don't understand anything," said
Sam.
"Neither do I," replied Danforth.
"The transfer will be made in the
Cayman Islands. The bank is listed and
the ten million will be shifted within
forty-eight hours. Then I'm through
with you!"
"The Cayman Islands?"
"They're in the Caribbean, you ass."
123
-
CHAPTER TWELVE
He could see the tiny white light
shining fifty feet down the Savoy
corridor. He did not have to get any
closer to know
it was the door to his
rooms; avoiding it was a second, very
good reason to let himself into Anne's
suite.
"If that's not you, Sam, I've got
problems," she calledfrom the
bedroom.
"It's me. All your problems are happy
ones."
"I like those kind."
Devereaux walked into the large
bedroom with the windows overlooking
the river. Anne was sitting-up, read-
ing a brightly colored paperback by
the light of the table lamp. "What's
that?" he asked. "It looks
impressive."
"A marvelous history of Henry the
Eighth's wives. I got it at the Tower
this morning. That man was a monster!"
"Not really. A lot of his troubles
were geopolitical."
"In his crotch they were!"
"That's more historically sound than
you may think. How about a drink?"
"You've got to make a phone call
first. I promised; first thing you did
when you got back."
The girl turned a page calmly. Sam
was not only astonished, he was
curious. "What did you say?"
"MacKenzie called. All the way from
Washington." She turned another page.
"MacKenzie?" Devereaux could not help
himself; he roared. "Just MacKenzie
called! You're sitting there like you
heard from room service and tell me
MacKenzie called. How do you know he
called? Did he call you?"
"Really, Sam, stop being so uptight."
Cold as ice, she turned another
goddamned page. "It's not as though I
didn't know him. I mean, after all "
124
"Oh, no! Spare me the odious
comparisons! I just want to know about
this extraordinary coincidence that
has you seven thousand miles from home
taking a telephone call from an
ax-husband who's calling Three
thousand miles from New York."
"If you'll calm down, I'll tell you.
If you won't, I'm just going to keep
on reading."
Devereaux thought about how much he
wanted a drink; but he suppressed his
anger and spoke quietly. ''I'm calm
and I would very much like to have you
speak. Please
..
spea<.
Alne put the book down on her lap and
looked up at him. "To begin with, Mac
was every bit as uptight as you are
when I got on the line." .
"How did you get on the line?"
"Because I was worried.
"That's why, not how."
"If you recall, and I think you will
if you try real hard, you left me at
the table downstairs. You were running
late and. I insisted. I told you I'd
sign the check and go upstairs. Am I
right so far?"
"I owe you for dinner. Go on."
"A nice young man in white tie and
tails came to the table and said there
was an urgent transatlantic call for
you. Are they always so dressed up?"
"It's a Savoy custom. What did you
say?"
"That you wouldn't be back until very
late; I wasn't sure of the time. He
seemed upset so I asked him if I could
help. He said the caller was a General
Hawkins from Washington, and I think
the rank and the city made him
nervous. Mac always does that; it gets
better telephone service. So I told
him not to worry about a thing. I'd
talk to the old fart. He liked that."
Anne returned to her book. "Now, go
call him. The number's on the desk in
the others room. It's also on the desk
in your place and also down
stairs. I'm very flattered that you
got it here first."
It was possible, Sam reflected.
Unlikely but within the scope of
possibility, as certain radio waves
indicated the possibility of
additional civilizations in galactic
space. "What did Hawkins say? How was
he uptight?"
"Oh, just that I was here, I suppose,"
said the girl, 1a5
reluctantly taking her eyes off the
page. "He started swearing and yelling
and giving orders. I said 'Mac,' I
said, 'go wash your mouth out with
brown soap)' I always used to tell him
that. I mean he uses language we
stayed away from in Belle Isle.
Anyway, he calmed down and started to
laugh." Anne's eyes drifted upward, at
nothing. She was remembering, thought
Sam, and those memories were not cold
ones. "He asked me if I'd gotten rid
of the fancy gigolo waiter yet that's
what he calls Don and if not, why not.
And how you were such a nice fellow.
You know, Mac thinks a great deal of
you. Anyhow, it is very important that
you call him back. I said it'd be
awfully late; maybe not until three in
the morning. But he said that was all
right; it would only be ten o'clock in
Washington."
"Can't it wait until morning?"
"No. Mac was very emphatic. He said
if you thought about putting it off I
should tell -you it had something to
do with an Italian gentleman who was
asking for you."
"Did he add that he was in the
undertaking business?"
"No. But I think you should call
him. If you want privacy, you can use
the phone in the other room."
"Goddamn, boy! Isn't it a real small
world! There you are halfway across
the globe and who do you run into but
little old Annie. Not that she's old,
you understand "
"I understand," interrupted Sam,
"that you've got greetings for me from
Dellacroce. What did you tell your
deeply religious friend now? That I
crucified Jesus?"
"Hell, no. That was just a little
psycho-prod, in case you were
reluctant to return my call. I haven't
even talked to Dellacroce. I don't
think he's in favor of any further
communications. Does that make you
feel better?"
Devereaux lit a cigarette. It helped
cover the slight pain that was
developing in his stomach. "I'll tell
you the truth, Mac. It simply makes me
nervous that you called me at all. It
makes me feel that you are about to
say something that will not bring me
any closer to Boston, or my mother, or
my real employer, Aaron Pinkus; that's
the way your psych-prod makes me
feel."
There was a long series of audible
tsks from MacKenzie Hawkins in
Washington. "You are a very suspicious
per126
son. It must be the lawyer in you. How
did everything go with Danforth'?"
"He's a madman. He blows hot and
cold like a psycho. He also signed the
papers; he's in for
ten million for
reasons I . can't possibly imagine.
The bank's in the Cayman Islands, which
is, I assume, the reason for your
telephone call."
"You mean you think I'd ask you to go
to the Caymans?"
"It crossed my mind."
"I wouldn't do that. The Caymans
aren't any fun. Just dinky little hot
spots with lots of banks and
pricky-shit bankers. They're trying to
make the place into another
Switzerland.... No, I'll fly down
there myself and take care of it. And
you've got another ten thousand added
to your account. Thought you'd like to
kn~that."
"Mac!" Devereaux's stomach
experienced a sharp, stinging
sensation. "You can't do that!"
"It's easy, boy. You just make the
cashiers check out for deposit only."
"That's not what I meant You have no
right putting money into my account)"
"The bank didn't argue "
"The bank wouldn't argue! I argue! I
am arguing! Christ, don't~you
understand? It means you're paying
me!"
"One-tenth of one percent? Goddamn,
boy, I'm cheating
.,,
you!
"I don't want to be paid! I don't
want anything to do with any money
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