by Barbara Paul
“I don’t know what happened.” Tee sank down disconsolately on the sofa. “There was a news bulletin on the radio. All it said was that Schlimmermann and Li Xijuan had violated their ‘diplomatic restraints’—whatever that means. They’ve disappeared, and the New York police are helping UN Intelligence look for them. That’s all I know.”
Shelby sat on the sofa arm and thought this over. “If they’ve both decided to make a run for it, they’re probably trying to get as far away from New York as they can. I don’t think Schlimmermann would hang around here just for a chance of getting back at me.”
“Shelby, you know he’s not rational! He thinks he can do anything—the man thinks he’s God. He could very well want to ‘punish’ you before he … before he goes on and does whatever it is he wants to go on and do.”
In spite of herself, Shelby shivered. “You said you called the police?”
Tee made a face. “They say they can’t spare anyone to stand guard. They don’t seem to think you’re in any real danger.”
“Well, I don’t either,” Shelby said briskly, putting a decisiveness into her voice she didn’t really feel. She flipped on the television. “Watch to see if there are any more announcements. I’ve got to take a shower—I feel grungy. There’s nothing on this time of day but reruns—they’ll interrupt if there’s any news.”
Tee nodded listlessly and stared at the screen. Once in the shower Shelby decided to wash her hair as well. Ten minutes ago she hadn’t felt in any particular need of cleansing, but the news about Schlimmermann had made her feel dirty. Hot water and lots of suds—that would help.
She pulled on an old terry cloth robe Eric had left behind and went out to find Tee sitting hypnotized on the edge of the sofa. “What’s so fascinating?”
“Oh, just Mr. Spock leaning in a doorway,” Tee said without looking away from the screen. “Grinning from ear to ear for all the world like an overgrown elf.”
“Grinning? I thought he never even smiled.”
“It’s not really Mr. Spock who’s grinning, just his face,” Tee explained. “There’s somebody else inside his body.”
“Oh sure, I should have figured that out for myself.” Shelby stood behind the sofa toweling her hair, looking over Tee’s head at the television set. The enmity between Mr. Spock-Who-Was-Not-Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk-Who-Was-Not-Captain Kirk was coming out into the open. Be careful! Danger!
CCRRAA-AA-AA-ACCKK!
The sound made both Shelby and Tee jump. “What is it?” Tee cried.
CRA-A-A-ACK! it came again. Both women swiveled toward the door and saw the end of a crowbar poking through between the door and the frame, splintering the wood of both the door and the jamb. Eric always said we should have a steel door put in, was all Shelby could think.
Now the crowbar was hacking away at the door, knocking pieces of splintered wood to the floor. Shelby stood frozen at the sight of the crowbar penetrating her defenses, its phallic invasion of her space making her numb with fear. It was the sound of Tee whimpering that brought Shelby out of her trance. She made a dive for the phone and managed to dial 911 before what was left of the door gave way.
Heinrich Schlimmermann stepped through the doorway. Breathing heavily from his exertions, tense, carrying more hatred than he knew what to do with. He saw Shelby at the phone—and without stopping to think, heaved the crowbar at her.
She almost got out of the way. The crowbar hit only a glancing blow against the side of her head, but it was enough. Shelby dropped like a ton of bricks. As she went down she was vaguely aware of someone SCREAMING, screaming, screaming …
… screaming, screaming, SCREAMING! The tickle of carpet dust in her nostrils brought her back to consciousness. Rug needs shampooing, she thought dully. Who’s that screaming … Tee? Is that Tee? Schlimmermann! What’s he doing to Tee?
Painfully she lifted her head and tried to see what was happening. She could barely make out two fuzzy figures with their arms wrapped around each other. Almost an embrace—no, it was an embrace. What was Schlimmermann doing to Tee? Why were they embracing? Shelby made a desperate effort to focus her eyes and saw it wasn’t Schlimmermann and Tee at all—it was Captain Kirk kissing a woman member of his crew. The screaming was coming from another part of the room.
Shelby pulled herself up to her knees, aware for the first time that the front of her robe was covered with blood. She started to crawl in the direction of the screaming. And then she saw.
Tee had her hands locked into Schlimmermann’s neck, her steel fingers digging into his throat. Schlimmermann was beating at her with his hands and arms and kicking at her. Every time a blow landed, Tee screamed. But she held on.
A wave of dizziness swept over Shelby. She fought down a need to vomit and forced herself to go on with her crawl toward Tee and Schlimmermann. When next she looked the German was down on his knees, his eyes and mouth wide, his hands pulling at Tee’s arms. But his movements were weak, ineffectual. Tee kept screaming, screaming.
By the time Shelby reached her sister, Schlimmermann’s arms were hanging limply at his sides. Tee’s eyes were glazed, seeing nothing, her hands like a vise around the German’s neck. And still she screamed.
Shelby used a chair to pull herself to her feet and shouted to make herself heard over her sister’s screams. “Tee, let go! It’s all over! You can let go now! Tee, look at his face!”
Tee turned her glazed eyes toward Shelby and gradually brought them back into focus. Then she looked at Schlimmermann.
His face had turned blue.
Tee unlocked her hands and let Schlimmermann fall away from her. The two sisters stood huddled together, their arms around each other, staring at the dead man on the floor.
“Ahead warp factor one,” said Captain Kirk.
CHAPTER 40
TAKE TWO ASPIRINS
Sic transit gloria mundi.
(On Monday Gloria threw up in the subway.)
This too shall pass.
Already the horrors of yesterday were beginning to dim. Shelby and Tee were beginning to see and feel and think normally again, awed by what had happened and grateful to find they were both still alive.
They’d still been holding on to each other by Schlimmermann’s body when the police stepped through the shattered doorway—followed immediately by Kevin Gilbert. Kevin had taken in the scene in one glance and moved into action. He flashed his ID at the officer in charge, put one arm around each of the sisters, and swooped them both off to a hospital before anyone could think Call an ambulance.
The hospital was a scene of confusion for Shelby—strange voices, bright lights, funny smells. Fingers poking at her. Once, flat on her back, she looked up to see a white-faced Max peering down at her. “Tee?” she asked him.
“She’s all right,” Max had time to say before someone told him to leave.
Shelby didn’t notice she’d lost her bloody robe and was wearing a hospital gown until they were taking stitches in her scalp. “Only four stitches,” a voice reassured her. “It’s not bad at all. But we want to keep you here overnight for observation.”
Tee had quite a few cuts and bruises where Schlimmermann had hit and kicked at her. But she was quickly patched up, given a sedative, and sent home with Max. “Do you think the Boston Symphony will still want me after this?” she asked woozily as they left.
“The only thing the Boston Symphony is going to worry about,” Max told her, “is whether or not you hurt your hands. Come along now.”
The first thing Shelby saw when she opened her eyes the next morning was Kevin Gilbert, sleeping uncomfortably in a chair beside her hospital bed. She sat up in bed carefully, taking inventory. Her head was sore where the stitches had been taken and she needed to go to the bathroom, but everything else seemed to be all right. She fingered the bandage on her head. Kevin opened one eye and looked at her.
“Have you been there all night?” she asked.
“Almost,” he yawned. “I went to your place and got you
some clothes. I think they’ll let you go today if you’re feeling okay. Do you know how you feel yet?”
“Pretty good, considering. Do I have a bathroom here?”
“Over there,” he pointed.
Shelby was released from the hospital with strict instructions to go straight home to bed. She promised faithfully and then went straight to the police station instead. Kevin said the police wanted a statement.
On the way, she asked how Tee was doing.
“Bearing up beautifully,” Kevin said with a note of surprise in his voice. “I talked to Max this morning, and he said she’s sore and a little stiff from the pummeling she took, naturally. But she’s not in shock or anything like that—she’s doing fine. They’ll both be at the police station. You can see for yourself.”
“That’s something I don’t understand,” Shelby said. “How did the police get there? I remember dialing 911 but I didn’t have time to say anything. Who called the police?”
“Your neighbors.” Kevin smiled grimly. “Between the two of them, Schlimmermann and Tee made enough noise to wake the dead. Almost everyone in your building called for help.”
Something was bothering Kevin; it was the first time Shelby had ever seen him glowing blue. She almost asked him what was wrong but held off.
Inside the police station, Tee came limping toward them followed by Max and a policeman. The sisters touched hands by way of greeting. “Okay?” asked Shelby.
“I feel like an old lady,” Tee complained. “How’s your head?”
“Hurts, but not as much as it did. What are we supposed to do here?”
“I’ve just signed my statement. Now you make yours, and then they decide whether to lock me up or not.”
Max sighed. “She’ll do anything to get out of performing in public.”
“Not this time,” said Tee. “I, am, going to Boston. Even if you have to spring me out of the joint. Or is it slammer?” She turned to the policeman. “What do you call it?”
“We call it prison,” the policeman said.
Shelby made her statement to a police stenographer. Soon after, Tee was officially informed no criminal charges were being brought against her. Both she and Shelby were apprised of the time and place of the inquest and told in no uncertain terms to be there.
Tee let out a big breath she’d been holding. “I was pretending I was sure I wouldn’t be charged, but I wasn’t sure at all. I was scared.”
“You’re the bravest scared lady I know,” Max said, hugging her.
“Ow!” Tee ow-ed. “Careful of that arm.”
Shelby turned to Kevin. “Kevin, how can I ever thank you? For taking charge yesterday, for helping today—”
“Oh Shelby, don’t,” he said uncomfortably. “Don’t thank me. I’m the one who almost got you killed in the first place.”
“You are?” Shelby and Tee said together.
Max: “You want to explain that?”
“I should have anticipated what Schlimmermann would do,” Kevin said. “I should have sent someone over to protect you the minute I heard he’d disappeared. Because I didn’t think, you were almost killed.”
“I see,” said Shelby. “Well now, how does it go? Tee has bumps and bruises, I have a bloody head, and Kevin has opted for guilt feelings. What about you, Max? What are you suffering from?”
“Got a nasty hangnail here,” Max said, staring somberly at a forefinger.
“Perfect. Now we’ve all got something to complain about. But there’s a problem. Tee and I have doctors, and I know how to take care of a hangnail. But what do you do for guilt feelings?”
“Chicken soup?” Tee suggested.
Kevin was looking so amazed that the other three burst out laughing.
“I almost got you killed and you make a joke of it?” Kevin couldn’t believe it.
“We’re making a joke of it because we’re still a little scared,” Max explained. “It helps. Nobody expected you to second-guess a madman, Kevin. Tee guessed, but musicians are all slightly mad themselves.”
“Hey,” said Tee.
“So don’t go blaming yourself because you couldn’t read Schlimmermann’s mind. Personally, I’d have thought he’d go after P. J. Martel if he went after anybody.”
Kevin looked at Shelby.
“Nobody blames you,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “Now I think it’s time we got you home. You’re supposed to get lots of rest for the next few days.”
“Do you have your car here?” Max asked Kevin. “Mine’s in the garage again.”
They all piled into Kevin’s car. Shelby watched the stiff way her sister climbed into the back seat and asked, “Are you feeling all right, Tee?”
Tee eased back into the seat and held out her hands, palms down. “Steady as a rock,” she said. “All I need now is a long soak in a hot tub.”
Kevin looked back at her hands, and wanted to touch them. A musician’s hands, hands that had been forced to kill. He wanted to tell her that the men in charge were secretly grateful to her, that Sir John and Martel both had been worried Schlimmermann would plead insanity and get away with it. Had the man been insane? They would never know. Kevin said nothing and started the car.
“The walrus has been notified, I suppose,” Shelby said.
Kevin knew whom she meant. “Last night. He was horrified—stuttering and swearing and yelling. He’s holding a round-the-clock session of the commission right now. They’re making out their report to the Security Council and requesting that the inquiry be temporarily suspended but the commission itself be kept active. What with Aguirrez in the booby hatch and Schlimmermann dead and Li Xijuan missing, there’s no reason to go on with the hearings. Li Xijuan has been formally indicted, you know.”
“Then that’s it, isn’t it? Why not disband the commission?”
“Aguirrez. If he ever recovers, the commission will have to vote on his indictment.”
“Why did they run?” Max asked from the back seat. “Schlimmermann and Li Xijuan.”
“We think they all three meant to run right from the start. That’s why they were so cool about getting caught—none of them was planning on hanging around for the verdict. But only one of them managed to get away—and Li Xijuan’s disappearance is only temporary, I promise you.”
“She’s headed back to China, isn’t she?” Max said.
“That’s probably what she planned,” Kevin agreed. “But the leadership of Li Xijuan’s political party isn’t too happy with her at the moment. She must have thought she’d go back as Hero of the Republic, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days.”
“Why would she think that?” Tee asked. “What’s heroic about shipping useless weapons all over the world? Or am I allowed to ask?”
“Sure you are,” said Kevin. “It’ll all be published in the commission’s report. Well, briefly, Li Xijuan stirred up all this trouble just to warn her political party that certain plans for war they were entertaining wouldn’t work at this time. She forced them to understand the UN would stop them. But instead of being grateful to her for keeping them from making a bad mistake, the party leaders—not too surprisingly—resent being made to look foolish. Ex-Ambassador Li will not be welcomed back with open arms.”
Shelby: “Does she know that?”
“We’re not certain. I suspect she does.”
“So she could be headed anywhere in the world.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“What is her political party, anyway?” Tee wanted to know. “I thought China was supposed to be a one-party country.”
“Ostensibly, it is. But the Communists are divided in China. Li Xijuan’s group is that one faction of the Communist Party currently in power. They’re fighting not only other Communist factions but also all the other political organizations that have sprung up since Mao’s death.”
Shelby’s mouth twitched. “So the whole thing was a Commie plot?”
Kevin looked at her sadly.
“I didn’t say that,” Shelby corrected quickly.
They pulled up in front of the Bradley apartment building; Shelby and Kevin watched as Max and a limping Tee disappeared inside. “I can’t get over how calmly she’s taking everything,” Kevin said.
“Tee will be all right,” Shelby said confidently.
“What makes you so sure?”
“No blue aura.”
Kevin found a parking place not too far from Shelby’s building. On the way up in the elevator he said, “I posted a man outside your apartment. That shattered doorway is an open invitation to thieves.”
A man leaning casually against the wall in the hallway straightened up when he saw them coming. Kevin said, “All right, Brostoff, you can go now …” And stopped in surprise.
Instead of the gaping hole they both expected, they saw a new steel door, fitted and locked. Even the splintered wooden frame had been replaced by a metal one.
The man named Brostoff handed a set of keys to Shelby. “Compliments of Sir John Dudley,” he said.
CHAPTER 41
ROGUE BUTTERFLY
Kevin Gilbert caught a glimpse of his reflection in a store window and was surprised at how haggard he looked. Pinched, gray face with dark circles under the eyes. The beginnings of a stoop: he straightened up and walked more briskly than he really wanted to.
He was tired to the point where it would be difficult to relax. Sir John had put him in charge of the search for Li Xijuan—the first time the old man had entrusted him with such a large-scale operation. Kevin had spent two days and one night setting up the machinery, and he’d been tired when he started. The trip to China had taken a lot out of him.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about moving from the field to a desk job. He wanted to make the change, and he didn’t want to make the change. Think about it later, when the fatigue is gone. Kevin was too tired to trust himself behind the wheel of a car, so he stopped a cab and gave the driver the address of the Bradley apartment. Shelby had said she’d be there for a few hours this evening.
Kevin leaned back in the cab and closed his eyes, thinking about Shelby. Thinking about Tee and Max. He was trying not to feel too grateful to these three likable people, with their wildly divergent talents, who seemed willing to take a glorified policeman into their lives. Don’t count on much and you won’t be disappointed.