”Wait, wait!” I waited while he faced me, digging a hand through that
slick black hair. “The truth,” he finally said. “But you will not like it.”
“I’ll take my chances on that.”
“He is dead.”
“Van Zee?”
“Yes. He stole the money and hid it somewhere in Zurich. Then he drove
to Luxembourg and told us he had been robbed by people on the highway. We
were taking him back to Zurich when he attempted to escape us. He seized
control of the car and in the darkness he drove it off the road. It was destroyed
completely. He died in it.”
I said incredulously, “He stole the money — a million dollars — and
hid it in Zurich, then drove all the way to Luxembourg just to tell you it was
gone? And you really expect me to believe such nonsense?”
Yves held his arms wide in supplication. His face was very pale, the
sweat showing on it. Then he let his arms drop to his side. “No,” he said
178
lifelessly, “who could believe such a monstrous chain of events if he was not
witness to them?”
“Nicely put,” I said. “And now that we’ve reached agreement on the
essentials, my friend, let’s sit down and attend to the details.”
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As the car moved out into the street,
Vahna said, “I know what Yves wished to talk to you about. His one concern
was to make the worst of our friendship, was it not?”
“No. It seems he’s facing some business problems which — but forget
that. I shouldn’t be saying it. I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to.”
She arched those narrow eyebrows at me. “Indeed? But you are not the
only one to know of his financial difficulties, David. On my arrival home from
London yesterday we had a scene that made them very plain to me.”
“Then he did tell you he’s close to bankruptcy?”
“No,” Vahna said in a brittle voice, “he did not.”
“Trying not to alarm you, I suppose, because it is an alarming
possibility. So, knowing my circumstances, he asked if I would help him out.
A matter of a few hundred thousand dollars, just to keep the wolf from the
door.”
“He asked you for money? You?”
“Yes.”
“And I did not enter into the discussion at all? This visit to Chaumont
did not disturb him?”
“Please,” I said, “we’re getting into something so embarrassing —”
She placed a soft little hand on mine. “David, I insist you tell me
everything that happened between you two.”
“Well” — I brought it out unwillingly — “he did say that he found the
relationship — friendship — between you and me intolerable.”
“Yes?”
“But that he might manage to tolerate it, if I would help him out
financially.”
The hand resting on mine clenched convulsively, the nails digging hard
into my palm. “Un ménage à trois, hein? And you believed my husband really
offered you such an arrangement?”
“Vahna, the offer couldn’t be misunderstood. Once I agreed to help him
out, he said he’d leave Paris tomorrow for two or three months while you
remained here.”
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Again those sharp nails cut painfully hard into my hand. “Then he has
gone mad! Completely mad!”
“Possibly. But tell me, in all your years of marriage didn’t you ever
realize that if he had to choose between you and his money you would be the
loser?”
“No. Never. And I cannot understand any of this.”
I said soothingly, “But what is there to understand? Nothing out of the
way has happened. Yves must leave town for awhile on business. You are
spending the weekend with Henriette de Liasse who will be delighted with
your company. I am a friend of the family hoping to see it through its
difficulties. That’s all it amounts to right now, isn’t it?”
The darkly glimmering eyes narrowed. “Right now?”
“Yes. Afterward — well, you must know my feelings for you. But if you
want to call off this weekend, return home immediately —”
That gave her a start. “With Madame la Comtesse waiting?” she said,
lining up her priorities. “Would she not be offended?”
“Perhaps. But if you say the word —”
”No,” said Vahna shortly.
She was not much company the rest of the trip, but when we were
ushered into a vast sitting room — the fireplace would have been enough to
park the car in — and the Countess rose from her conversation with some
leading lights of the Almanach de Gotha to greet us, the transformation in
Vahna was complete. From impassive to radiant, from monosyllabic to fluent.
She had style too. There were about a dozen present, and as we were
led through introductions to Madame Ia Princesse and Monsieur le Duc and so
on down the line, Vahna struck a perfect balance between deference and
vivacity.
The Countess took notice of this. “Charming,” she commented in an
undertone, drawing me away from the company. “But, David, much as I dislike
reproving you for a gaucherie, I am compelled to do so.” She was only half
playful about it. “When one receives an invitation such as I extended to you, an
unmarried young man, it is not his privilege to choose his partner for the
occasion.”
“Then I apologize. But there’s quite a story attached to this gaucherie.”
She gave me a knowing look. “An old and familiar story, I suspect.”
181
“No, this concerns the lady’s problems. She’s a princess of the blood in
Thailand. When she was still a schoolgirl she was married off — actually sold
off — to a French businessman there. Yves Rouart-Rochelle. A moneygrubber
and a brute. Hates the amenities, hates what he sneeringly calls aristocratic
pretensions. Robespierre wasn’t the last of that breed, you know.”
“How well one knows,” said Madame.
“But,” I said, “now there’s been a separation. She finally made it plain
to him how much she detested his vulgarity, he walked out, and that’s where
matters rest. She’s been left without a friend to turn to.”
The Countess again gave me that knowing look. “You are not her
friend?”
“I want to be,” I said innocently, “but it’s not easy. She’s rigidly moral,
afraid that even being seen with me might be misinterpreted. That’s why when
your invitation came I thought that here at least, where she would be received
with understanding —”
”Ah, poor child.” Madame looked across the room where Vahna was
prettily engaged in several conversations simultaneously. “You must let her
know, David, that I may be counted on as a friend.”
“I will. That leads me to wonder if, on her behalf, I might impose on
your kindness.”
“In what way?”
“She’s all alone in that huge house of hers in Paris. Really a magnificent
old place in the Parc Monceau, but it’s like a living tomb. So if she were to
arrange a dinner party where you were guest of honor — where, in fact, you
decided on the guest list but she would be hostess — would you approve such
an
arrangement?”
“Impossible, David. You seem to have no idea of the difficulties posed
by such an unnatural arrangement. The matter of preparations, the protocol —”
”They could be in no better hands than yours.”
“No, your flattery will not overcome my sense of the proprieties. There
are some things” — but her voice trailed off, her eyes glazed over, she was
evidently having second thoughts. Then she said in a businesslike tone, “If I
granted you this favor, could I expect immediate repayment?”
“Anything you ask.”
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“It has to do with Jean-Pierre. My son, who is of an age to marry and
produce for me a grandson bearing the family name, is making himself a
scandal because of a certain woman. Une négresse. I believe this woman is an
employee of yours and subject to your authority. Is that correct?”
“To some extent.”
“Very well. Then give me solemn assurance that Jean-Pierre will be
promptly relieved of her company — that she will be kept at a distance from
him — and I will do you your favor.”
“You have my assurance. And my gratitude.”
“Very nicely said. And, David” — she held up an admonitory forefinger
— “you must deal with this discreetly. Jean-Pierre is not to know my role in
it.”
“He never will.”
“Now,” she said brightly, “let us return to the company, or my son will
not be the only member of the family regarded as a scandal.”
There now remained in this phase of the game only one more piece to
move into position.
During an endlessly tedious and nerve-racking dinner, what sustained my
hopes of thus moving it into position was the view of Vahna across the table
taking notice of the close attention paid me by Madame la Comtesse and
finally flashing that special smile at me.
Good friends again? In that case —
At midnight, in the pajamas, dressing gown and slippers Harry had laid
out for me before hieing himself off to his own quarters, and assured by the
silence in the corridor outside my bedroom that I wasn’t likely to encounter
traffic there, I made my way down the corridor to Vahna’s room.
She opened the door just wide enough to reveal that she was still fully
clothed. She recognized my surprise at this and explained, “I sent the maid
away. All I can do is walk up and down with the excitement of it. Madame la
Duchesse de la Quintinye. Do you know her?”
“Of course. The fat one with the taste for cognac.”
“Ah, what a way to speak. She was so kind. She has some chinoiserie
among her objets d’art. She has invited me to Quintinye to examine these
pieces and help determine their value.”
“Without fee?”
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Vahna frowned. “What is it, David? Does my pleasure in this company
offend you?”
“Not at all. In fact, what I’ve come to tell you is that you are very soon
going to give a dinner party for them at your home. A large and grand dinner
party. The Countess herself will be delighted to prepare your guest list,
explain protocol, help in all details. All you have to do is speak to her about it
before we leave.”
Vahna looked stunned. “Madame Ia Comtesse herself?”
“Yes. Look, may I come in? It’s awkward holding a conversation like
this.”
She opened the door wide, I stepped in and closed it behind me. I
remained with my back against it while she gave me a demonstration of what
she had meant about walking up and down with excitement. She suddenly
stopped short before me. “You arranged this, did you not? You asked her to do
it for me.”
“Yes. I explained your circumstances, your separation from your
husband, your loneliness, and she was very sympathetic.”
“My loneliness? Yves has not even departed from our home yet!”
“It’s only a matter of a few hours now. And,” I said pointedly, “you’re
already very lonely, aren’t you?”
Slowly, slowly into those exotic eyes came the light of calculation. That
gave way to panic. “But the cost of such a dinner! I have no money of my own.
It has always been Yves —”
”Sit down,” I said.
As if mesmerized she seated herself on a massive fautueil that made her
look even more doll-like. I said, “Now try to understand. Before Yves can get
any help from my company he must be down to his last penny. Otherwise, what
money he has left —”
”But you said —”
I held up a hand. “Otherwise what money he has left will immediately be
claimed by his creditors. To avoid this, he must turn over everything to me.
Only then will he get the assistance he requires. Is that clear?”
She gave me a sober little nod. “I think it is.”
“Good. My manager will get Yves’s check for a hundred thousand
dollars Monday morning. It will then be deposited to your account.”
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“My account? But it is Yves’s money, is it not?”
“Was. Now it will be all yours. After all,” I observed gravely, “what
are friends for?”
The light dawned. “Formidable!” she breathed. “A hundred thousand
out of your pocket. Five hundred thousand. A million. No matter, if you will
get what you want.”
“In this case,” I countered, “only if you feel I deserve it.”
And that, as it turned out, was exactly the right thing to say.
Wherever he was, Yves Rouart-Rochelle must have known what was
taking place in his wife’s bed that night, and the sense of this — of his being
an invisible witness to it — made it as perversely an exciting experience as I
had ever shared with any woman in my life.
And it was the same the next night at the Château de Liasse, and the night
after.
185
When I walked into his room Costello,
fully clothed, unshaven, and bleary-eyed, was stretched out on his bed, hands
under his head, contemplating the ceiling. There was an empty whiskey bottle
on the floor beside him.
“Rest and recreation time?” I said.
“Not too much. Leewarden got himself knocked off last night.”
“Murdered?”
“Uh-huh. Took a walk after supper, came back to his room, and this
morning when the hotel maid walked in there he was, ready for the embalmer.
Stabbed to death, but it was made to look like a robbery.”
“What about the agency man tailing him?”
Costello shrugged. “The agency guys were watching him, not his room.
While he was out somebody got in and was laying in wait for him. And then
took off through the window and down the fire escape.”
“Kees Baar.”
“Who else?” Costello hoisted himself upright and squinted at me through
red-rimmed eyes. “You know Frenchy is out of town since Saturday, don’t
you?”
“Yes. When I brought Vahna back to the house the maid told us about it.
Where out of town?”
“Marseille He leases an apartment there full-time, and he’s in it now.
The agency’s got him staked out good. And little Marie from Copenhagen was
; at Choochoo’s when it happened, so it can’t be pinned on her. It had to be the
Dutchman.” He held the empty bottle to the light, then phoned room service
and ordered another.
“Nerves?” I said.
“Some. I don’t like this blindman’s buff with a guy who kills as easy as
that Dutchman. And it’s funny how the action always takes place right around
where you are.”
I said, “I’d rather have it that way. The other way is that he could just
pack up his million and head for Rio.”
Costello seemed to find bitter humor in this. “That you don’t have to
worry about. I mean about him packing up the million and heading for Rio.
186
You want to know something? I don’t think there’s too much of that million left
to pack up.”
“Why not?”
He lurched to the desk, fumbled through stacks of index cards, and
finally came up with the one he wanted. He waved it at me. “Marie, the porno
kid.”
“What about her?”
“Plenty. That hooker at Choochoo’s, that Avril, fingered Marie for our
agency guy. She said Marie’s the one who’s buying out Choochoo. Not only
that, she’s dealing for another whorehouse on the Pigalle, even bigger and
better. And she’s already bought out one in Copenhagen. Any one place like
that would take a nice bite out of a million. Three of them — and there could
be more we don’t even know about — means you’re really putting your money
to work. Marie’s the Dutchman’s partner, right? So he is not keeping that
dough in his mattress. He’s investing it.”
I said, “All this on Avril’s say-so?”
“The agency guy, Schefflin, is one smart old-timer, and he buys her
information. So do I. Maybe some ordinary stiff hits for a million and then
blows it on high living, but this Dutchman is sure as hell not ordinary.”
“No, he isn’t. Is Marie-Paule still in town?”
“Still. Another cool one. Probably waiting for Mr. Shaw to drop in on
her about van Zee the way he did with her pals.”
I said, “Before I do, there’s some company business to clear up. Grete’s
making the Countess unhappy. So Grete’s being shipped back to the States.”
“She won’t like that,” Costello warned. “It could be easier said than
done.”
“Maybe. Anyhow, the same goes for Oscar and Williams. They worked
out fine, they gave us the front we needed, but now they’ll only be in the way.
The Luxembourg Run Page 21