By the time New York was a pink-and-silver glow of lights up ahead and the night was warm as spring, almost balmy, Cassidy had begun to figure it out. Not make sense of it, mind. Just figure it out.
Manfred Moller and his airplane hadn’t just crashed aimlessly in the woods, in the wilderness. They’d been trying to hit Keyhole Lake and they’d come pretty damn close.
They’d been aiming for the lake closest to the castle.
They’d been coming to see Tash Benedictus. Which led to one peculiar but inescapable conclusion.
Tash Benedictus was Vulkan.
Tash Benedictus had suffered and damned near died in the trenches, the work of the bloody Germans. His son—if he’d existed at all—had died in action during the Battle of Britain. Those bloody Germans again.
But Moller was heading for Tash Benedictus and Tash made him feel right at home.
So Tash Benedictus was Vulkan.
Sometimes things just didn’t make sense.
“Wake up, Harry. New Yawk City. The end of the line.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HARRY MADRID SAT ON THE couch looking out the window at Washington Square while Cassidy showered and got into his dinner jacket. He smoked a cigar and drank a Dickens martini he’d made for himself and then Cassidy came in straightening his tie, shooting his cuffs. Harry Madrid regarded him with a patient smile. “Never thought I’d get back to civilization,” he said. “God, how I hate the country!”
Cassidy called Terry Leary’s apartment up on Park.
Rolf Moller answered the phone, snapping: “Yes, yes, Moller here.”
“Doctor, it’s Lew Cassidy. We’ve just gotten back to the city. I’m wondering how Karin is.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Cassidy? After what you’ve put her through, are you quite sure you care what happens to her? You have subjected her to more danger in a short time than the Allied air force did in all those—”
“Rolf, old sock, why don’t you just button up the Teutonic bullshit and tell me how she’s holding up? And may I remind you that your friend Sam MacMurdo is the creator of the master plan here. Now tell me how she is, let me speak to her, or I’ll come over there and defenestrate you without a moment’s regret. Got me, pal?” He winked at Harry Madrid.
“Yes, yes, of course. Threats come naturally to men like you, don’t they? I didn’t expect you to understand. Remorse is foreign to you—”
“How is she?” His voice was suddenly shaking with anger and he didn’t want to argue with this irritating shithead. Just then it seemed to Cassidy that the Brothers Moller richly deserved one another.
“She responds nicely in a calm environment,” Moller said. “She’s worried sick—do you understand? Sick. She is worried about her husband’s well-being. She is terrified about all the violence, the seemingly endless violence that clings to you, Mr. Cassidy. Her mental state is delicately balanced—and you persist in exposing her to the very worst—”
“I get the idea. I don’t like it either. If you think I enjoy putting her through all this, then you’re an imbecile. I’m trying to get this job done, to find her husband. … It’s been difficult, Doctor.”
Rolf Moller sighed, finally said, “Well, forgive me if I seem overly protective of my patient. It’s her welfare that motivates me. Waiting, as we’ve been doing here, can be as difficult as being out on the front lines. Tell me, do you have any news of my brother? I take it you didn’t find him.”
Cassidy hesitated before speaking. He wanted to report to MacMurdo before saying anything out of school. “We found his trail. … We found the plane. We know he was there.”
“Yes?”
“But we lost the trail in Boston. We’re working on it. We’ll find him.” He hoped he sounded more certain than he was.
“And the treasure?”
“Don’t expect miracles, Doc. One step at a time.”
“Yes. A doctor, a psychiatrist of all people must be patient. I realize that.” He was sounding sympathetic and Cassidy had a glimpse of what he was experiencing. They were all in the fire, every one of them.
“May I speak to Karin?”
“They’re all at Heliotrope. It’s her first evening out since … well, since your adventures on Long Island. She’s medicated but I thought it would do her good. She’s not to feel a prisoner but she’s been having dreams that have disturbed her—don’t bother to ask, she says she can’t remember them when she wakes. Tonight I thought she should take a step back toward normal behavior.”
“Who’s in the party?”
“Mr. Leary and Colonel MacMurdo. He’s just back from Washington today—”
Something struck Cassidy as odd. “Why aren’t you with her, Doc? It’s not like you—”
“Sometimes the doctor needs a night off, too. This is permissible, is it not?” He paused. “It seemed to me that she would be in good hands with Mr. Leary and the Colonel.”
“You’re doing fine, Doc. I’m sure you did the right thing.”
Cassidy stood near the cigarette stand inside the door at Heliotrope. He felt as if he’d just returned from a year in the wilderness. His heart was doing a tanglefoot rhumba and he knew it was because of Karin and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. It was dark in the big room and the girl singer was bouncing through “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe.” Harry Madrid headed back to the office to change into his tux. “Don’t tell me,” he muttered. “It’s all a matter of setting the proper goddamn tone.” Cassidy smiled fondly at the broad back retreating through the crimson curtains. His hands were sweating and it was all because of Karin.
“Lew, where the hell have you been? The Series is on; there’s money to be wagered and you’re not getting your share.”
“Been outa town, Bingo.”
“Game Seven tomorrow. Your timing’s good.”
Bingo Slattery was a friendly book who worked out of several of the clubs on Swing Street. He was always good for the Heliotrope crowd’s wagers and back in the old days, back in the memorable autumn of 1941, he’d made himself a small fortune backing Lew Cassidy’s astonishing string of touchdowns that had led the National Football League. He always said that Cassidy’s going down for good on December 7 had been God’s way of providing for him, Bingo Slattery. The string had run out, Bingo was up a hundred and fifty grand, and it was just too bad that it had ended the kid’s career. Still, Bingo knew when to be thankful. Later on, he’d made a hell of a killing on the Battle of the Coral Sea.
“What are you quoting, Bingo?”
“You won’t believe this but I got word outa Chi-town that the Cubbies are outa pitchas. Brace yourself—I got word they’re coming back with Borowy tomorrow. To start.”
“Impossible. That’d be three days in a row. Five innings yesterday, four hitless innings today … They can’t start him tomorrow.”
“That’s the word I got outa Chi-town, Lew.” Bingo lit an Old Gold and looked all-knowing. Bingo was a great one for saying things like Chi-town, pronounced Shy-town.
“Cubs better pray for rain. Tigers going with Newhouser?”
Bingo nodded.
“So what’s the quote?”
“Two-to-one for you, Lew. Eight-to-five for the common rabble.” He grinned through a smoke ring. His teeth needed a little work.
“I’ll venture a grand on the Cubs in that case.”
“You’re bettin’ with your heart, Lewis. The Tigers are a lock.”
“No.” Cassidy chuckled, patted him on the shoulder pads of his dark gray chalk-stripe. “I’m betting with someone else’s money.”
“Then you’re talkin’ about the smartest bet in town.”
“I’ll still pray for rain. You see Terry tonight?”
“Oh, to be sure. The publican is at his usual table, in the bosom of his friends. Say, you know who’s in town? I saw him gettin’ a shave and a trim at the Dawn Patrol. Damned piece of glass still stuck in his eye!”
“The monocle? You’re kidding!”
“I’ll be damned,” Cassidy said. “I heard he was in the RAF or something. You’re sure? It was definitely Not Me Nicholson?”
“How many guys you know wear a monocle and go by the name of Not Me? No, Lew, it was our Not Me. I gave him five hundred, even money, that Ike’s got Patton back in civvies by the end of the year. I don’t know, it’s about even money, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not Me Nicholson,” Cassidy said. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. You see him again, Bingo, tell him to give me a call. I would positively love to see old Not Me. What an incredible fuck-up, what a helluva guy. Hey, did you fuck up again, Nicholson?”
Bingo Slattery snapped to attention. “Not me, no sir.”
You had to laugh.
Cassidy waited until the singer’s set was over and then he and Harry Madrid converged on the table where Terry Leary, MacMurdo, and Karin were finishing their steaks. There wasn’t much conversation going on, three people in search of an elusive good time. Leary saw them first. He gave the impression that he’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He stood up, smiling broadly, running a knuckle along his thin mustache. He said that Cassidy and Harry Madrid were a sight for sore eyes.
“When did you get back, amigo? Where the hell have you been?”
“It’s a long and involved tale,” Cassidy said.
MacMurdo stood, shook hands with both of them. He was wearing a dark blue suit in the 52-Long range. “Glad you’re back. Just got in from Washington myself. Listen, you’d better fill me in on things. We gettin’ anywhere, pard?”
“Hi, Karin.” MacMurdo’s voice was oiling along in the background with the sound of chatter and ice in tumblers and the band playing something for the dancers. Cassidy was looking down into Karin’s eyes. She was wearing a silver dress with a little silver jacket to cover her bare shoulders. She looked up at him, raked the hair away from her eyes. “How are you doing?”
She tried to smile, nodded. “I’m all right. Terry says the Mad Doctor keeps me on the rails and I guess he’s right. Are you all right? I’ve been worried about what you’ve had to do … all because of me.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “Didn’t the Colonel tell you? I’m doing my best to make sure the good guys win the peace.”
MacMurdo said, “You two kids can talk later. I want to hear your report, Lew. Time’s a-wasting—”
“Keep your shirt on, Sam. And try to remember that you don’t give me orders. You can make suggestions and you can ask favors—”
“And I can tidy up after you, too. You try to remember that one, Lew.”
“Sam, don’t get me to laughing. Go easy with me. It’s been a weird coupla days.”
“Please!” Karin reached up and took Cassidy’s hand. “Don’t argue. Please. Just tell me, Lew, do you have any news about Manfred?” Her voice was soft but he heard it better than anyone else’s. It was so much like it had been in the old days, when she’d been the only one who mattered for him.
“Harry,” he said, “you brief old Sam here. And, Terry, you blow a hole or two in Sam if he gets uppity.” He grinned at MacMurdo. “We can talk later. Right now I’m going to take Karin away with me for a briefing of her own.”
He took her hand as she got up, smelled her clean fresh hair and some scent he didn’t know, saw the uncertain questioning look in her soft brown eyes. The band was playing “If I Loved You” from the big hit show Carousel. He followed her, moving among the tightly packed tables with the heliotrope lights burnishing the heliotrope walls. He pointed through the heavy velvet heliotrope curtains that led into the corridor. You turned one way and you went back into the past, you went down to the dressing rooms and you rescued Cindy Squires and you didn’t know it but you signed her death warrant. You turned the other way and you hung on to the present, you took a step into the future, you kept on turning pages until you figured out a way to get your late wife back, to make your life add up to something again.
He opened the door to Terry Leary’s office and she went in. He locked the door and when he turned back she was standing with her back to the desk, her hands clasped before her, looking into his eyes. She was biting her lower lip and trying not to show it. She was shaking slightly as if a low-jolt voltage were always rippling through her lean body. Her voice was so husky, so soft, that he had to lean toward her to hear.
“I’m embarrassed to tell you,” she began, stopped. She squeezed her hands tighter, shivering. The silver dress clung to her. She forced her hands back so she was leaning on them. “I have been so worried about you. Wondering if someone was trying to kill you. Poor Rolf, he had a fit about what happened out at Sag Harbor—he acts like you planned it and I tried to tell him that it wasn’t like that at all. He’s so protective, he doesn’t want anything to happen to me now that I’ve come this far.” She smiled sadly. “I try to explain to him that the war isn’t over for us, that we haven’t gotten through it yet. He says he doesn’t want me to risk my life—well, who does want to? Sometimes there are reasons … but you, Cassidy, why are you doing this? What am I to you? Are you a bounty hunter? That’s what Rolf called you, a man in it for the money—”
“No, I’m not in it for the money. My reasons are entirely personal, Karin.”
“But why? What are your reasons?”
“There’s no point in going into that now.”
“But I’m so curious about you. And I don’t know why. … Do you believe in second sight? Telepathy? I had dreams about you again—”
“Karin, I came here to tell you about what happened up north.”
“Why do I have these dreams about you? What are you to me, Lewis?”
“Have you talked to anyone else about me?”
“No. Well, just in passing to Terry. Did he know me, too? He seems to—oh, I don’t know, I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m reading or listening to the radio. He watches me as if he’s analyzing me, watching me give a performance and looking for mistakes. I don’t understand … but I dreamed about you, on that pier, the gulls, you were talking to me but I still couldn’t hear you—” He had moved closer to her, fighting all his impulses, fighting the past. He took her shoulders in his hands. She was short of breath, looking up at him. “Why do I want you to kiss me? I want you to put your arms around me. … I was so worried about you, Lew.”
“Well, I’m safe and I would sell my grandmother to kiss you and hold you but I’ve got to tell you about the search for your husband—”
“Oh, my God! What am I thinking of? You see? You see how my brain isn’t working properly? I forgot all about that—yet it was all I could think of when I saw you. … Did you find him? Is he all right?”
He lifted her up and set her on the edge of the desk. He poured two small cognacs from a decanter that had once belonged to Max Bauman. “To the past,” he said. “May we go there soon.” They drank and then he told her about the trip north.
So far as he could see it, she had paid a lot to hear the truth. It was bad enough, what MacMurdo was planning for Manfred Moller if they ever did find him. She wasn’t going to get her husband back, not that husband, anyway. But Cassidy couldn’t worry about that yet. There’d be time at the other end, somewhere in the last chapter, when they did find him. Cassidy wasn’t much of a chess player. That’s just the way it was. So he told her about the airplane with the corpse and the man who had stayed at Benedictus’s castle and the killing of the art dealer in Boston and the disappearance of the Ludwig Minotaur.
“He might have killed you. …” She was staring at him, her mouth slightly open, the hair swinging forward beside her eyes.
“He had a kind of half-assed try,” Cassidy said.
Suddenly she threw herself forward, her head against his chest, her hands clutching at him frantically, trying to get a grip, as if her life depended on it. He folded his arms around her, felt
her fluttering against him. She tilted her face up, her eyes slightly glassy. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I’m trying to salvage what I can of my life. … You’re part of my life now, whatever you were in the years that are gone … and I don’t want you to die. And that’s why I’m this way, what I’m afraid of. … I’m afraid they’ll kill you.” Her body was trembling against him, in fear or in passion, he couldn’t tell. “Does Manfred know who you are? Can he find you?”
“I don’t know,” Cassidy said. “I wouldn’t think he’d want to find me. I’d think he’d want to get as far away from me as he—”
“Not if he knows you have me.”
“There is that,” he whispered into her ear, his cheek against the terrible scar beneath her hair.
“He will kill you if he must.”
“Maybe I will kill him.”
“He’s brave and resourceful. He’s fighting for his life.”
“Do you love him, Karin?”
“He’s my husband.”
“That’s no answer—”
“It’s the only answer you’ll get from me. He’s my husband, I want him back. … MacMurdo told me he’d find him. He’s got to find him. That’s all there is, Lew.”
“Why? Do you know what MacMurdo has in mind for your husband? Have you thought about that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I trust MacMurdo. I have to trust him. He’s the only hope I have … I must trust him. We’ll work out something. I’ll worry about everything then—”
“Why trust him?”
“No choice, that’s—”
“Do you think MacMurdo’s in this to reunite you and Manfred Moller?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
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