“I’ve got some things to wind up over here, but I’ll locate some lawyers to meet with yours. Meanwhile, goodby, Mart. I hope we never have to see each other again.” He turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” Gunther said. “Where’s Fay?”
“I neither know nor care,” Steve told him, and was gone.
He drove the Citroën back to Monaco, checking his wristwatch again as he went. At the office, Elaine looked up wearily from her desk, Friday was always a hassle.
Steve said, “Congratulations.”
She tried to think of some answer to that, and gave up, and waited for more developments.
He gave them to her. “Unless I’m badly mistaken, you are about to become Far Away Holidays’ representative on the Côte d’Azur. Get me the office up in London and Mr. Brett-James in person. I want to tender my resignation and, at the same time, recommend you for the job.”
She was taken aback, but she reached for the phone. “Oui, Monsieur Cogswell.”
“And speak English. You need the practice.”
“Mais oui, Monsieur Cogswell.”
He checked his watch again. He had to time this just right.
He gave his regrets to John Brett-James and gave Elaine Marimbert a big build-up, she’d been on the job for three years and knew it as well as he did himself. The boss sputtered a bit, then surrendered. He had no alternative.
Steve Cogswell put the phone down and pursed his lips in thought. He brought forth his wallet and counted out twenty-five thousand francs from the amount he’d rescued from Silletoe. Which reminded him to wonder what had happened to Silletoe; he had forgotten to ask Carla. The grifter had probably simply left town, once he’d recovered.
“Elaine,” he said, “do one last chore for me, will you?”
“Enchanté, Monsieur Cogswell.”
He grinned at her. “You’re going to have to get over the habit of lapsing into French every time you become excited. On this job crises come up every day. Look, take this money over to Constantine Kamiros’ office and give it to either him or Mr. Lindos, will you?”
She made a moue. “I forgot to tell you. When Mr. Kamiros phoned yesterday, he told me to tell you to forget about the money. He said — ”
Steve shook his head. “Good old Conny. I might have known he wouldn’t be able to stick it out. But take this over to him anyway.” He checked his watch again.
When Elaine was gone, he sat down at the desk and brought the phone toward him. “If I know those Viscounts, that plane is pulling in right now,” he muttered.
He called London Airport Central, proclaimed an emergency, and had them put Nadine Whiteley’s name on the loudspeaker system.
In the background he could hear the announcement in heavy English accent. “Nadine Whiteley. British United Airlines flight from Nice. Wanted on the telephone.” And over and over again.
Finally her voice came, breathless and puzzled. “This is Nadine Whiteley,” she said.
“And this is your fiancé,” he said. “Name of Steven Philip Cogswell. Now listen here. You get a room at the Savoy and don’t stir out of it until I get there. I think I can get a night plane.”
“Oh, Steve!” Her voice flooded with relief. “I was afraid I’d lost you. The minute the plane took off, I knew what a silly little fool I’d been — throwing away the one thing I went to the Riviera to find.” Her voice broke. “Darling, you were so right. I don’t want to marry a gigolo. And if you want your own business — ”
“That’s what I want,” he said firmly. “Do you really see it my way — or are you just playing a conniving woman’s game?”
“I’ve had my own way too long,” she said softly. “And I’m not a conniving woman. Until I met you I was just a spoiled, love-starved New England-type virgin. From here on, I want everything your way.”
“Well, then.” Steve smiled to himself. “This is what I had in mind. I’ve come into some money since you left and my present plans involve, first, getting up there to London and marrying the girl I love and having a short honeymoon. Then returning here and winding up a few matters and then going home to the States and setting up in the industrial engineering dodge. How does that sound to you?”
“It sounds like the man I’m going to marry,” she breathed.
“Just one more thing I like my way — the way it was last night and this morning.” He paused, chuckling at her embarrassment at the other end of the wire. “And the minute I get into that room tonight — ”
“Steve, please!” she protested, giggling. “Not on the telephone!”
But that didn’t stop him.
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Text Copyright © 1961 by Mack Reynolds
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Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6316-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6316-4
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6315-2
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6315-7
Episode on the Riviera Page 14