"You took a long time arriving at it," she said as she smiled up at him. "It'll take me a few minutes. I promised Janet I'd read her a story."
"What are you going to read her?"
" 'Beauty and the Beast.' Ponder it." She disengaged herself from his arms, touching his face with her fingers. "Give me ten, fifteen minutes."
Tanner watched her go back into the hall to the staircase. She'd been through so much, and now this. Now, Omega.
He looked at his watch. It was eight-twenty and Ali would be upstairs for at least ten minutes, probably twice as long. He decided to call Fassett at the motel.
It wasn't going to be the usual conversation with iFassett. No more condescending instructions, no more sermons. It was now the end of the third day; three days of harassment against the suspects of Omega.
John Tanner wanted specifics. He was entitled to them.
Fassett was alarmed, annoyed, at the news director's precise questions.
"I can't take time to phone you whenever someone crosses the street."
"I need answers. The weekend starts tomorrow, and if you want me to go on with this, you'll tell me what's happened. Where are they now? What have their reactions been? I've got to know."
For a few seconds there was silence. When Fassett spoke, his voice was resigned. "Very well. . . . Tremayne stayed in New York last night. I told you that, remember? While at the Biltmore he met a man named Townsend. Townsend's a known stock manipulator out of Zurich. Cardone and his wife went to Philadelphia this afternoon. She visited her family in Chestnut Hill and he went out to Bala Cynwyd to meet with a man we know is a high capo in the Mafia. They got back to Saddle Valley an hour ago. The Ostermans are at The Plaza.
They're having diner later tonight with a couple named Bronson. The Bronsons are friends from years ago. They're also on the Attorney General's subversive list."
Fassett stopped and waited for Tanner to speak.
"And none of them have met? They haven't even called each other? They've made no plans? I want the truth!"
"If they've talked it hasn't been on any telephone we can control, which would mean they'd have to be at pay phones at simultaneous times, which they haven't We know they haven't met— simple surveillance. If any of them has plans, they're individual, not coordinated. . . . We're counting on that as I've told you. That's all there is."
"There doesn't seem to be any relationship. With any of them?"
"That's right. That's what we've concluded."
"But not what you expected. You said they'd panic. Omega would be in panic by now."
"I think they are. Every one of them. Separately. Our projections are positive."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Think. One couple races to a powerful Mafioso. Another meets with a husband and wife who are as fanatic as anyone in the Presidium. And the lawyer has a sudden conference with an international securities thief out of Zurich. That's panic. The NKVD has many tentacles. Every one of them is on the brink. All we do is sit and wait."
"Beginning tomorrow, sitting and waiting's not going to be so easy."
"Be natural. You'll find yourself functioning on two levels really quite comfortably. It's always like that. There's no danger if you even half carry it off. They're too concerned with each other now. Remember, you don't have to hide yesterday afternoon. Talk about it. Be expansive. Do and say what comes naturally about it."
"And you think they'll believe me?"
"They haven't got a choice! Don't you understand that? You make your reputation as an investigative reporter. Do I have to remind you that investigation ends when the subjects collide? That's the age-old wrap-up."
"And I'm the innocent catalyst?"
"You better believe it. The more innocent, the better the wrap-up."
Tanner lit a cigarette. He couldn't deny the government man any longer. His logic was too sound. And the safety, the security, the all-holy well-being of Ali and the children was in this cold professional's hands.
"All right. I greet them all at the door as long-lost brothers and sisters."
"That's the way. And if you feel like it, call them all in the morning, make sure they're coming over. Except the Ostermans, of course. Whatever you'd normally do. . . . And remember, we're right there. The most sophisticated equipment the biggest corporation on earth owns is at work for you. Not even the smallest weapon could get through your front door."
"Is that true?"
"We'd know it if a three-inch blade was in someone's pocket. A four-inch revolver would have you all out of there in sixty seconds."
Tanner replaced the receiver and drew heavily on his cigarette. As he took his hand off the telephone he had the feeling—the physical feeling—of leaving, jumping, going away.
It was a strange sensation, an awesome sense of loneliness.
And then he realized what it was, and it disturbed him greatly.
His sanity was now dependent on a man named Fassett. He was utterly in his control.
The taxi drew up to the front of the Tanner house. John's dog, the stringy Welsh terrier, ran up and down the driveway, yapping with each advance and retreat, waiting for someone to acknowledge that the visitors were welcome. Janet raced across the front lawn. The taxi door opened; the Ostermans stepped out. Each carried gift-wrapped boxes. The driver brought out a single large suitcase.
From inside the house, Tanner looked at them both: Bernie, in an expensively cut Palm Beach jacket and light-blue slacks; Leila, in a white suit with a gold chain around her waist, the skirt well above her knees, and a wide-brimmed soft hat covering the left side of her face. They were the picture of California success. Yet somehow there was a trace of artifice with Bernie and Leila; they had moved into the real money barely nine years ago.
Or was their success itself a facade, wondered Tanner as he watched the couple bending down to embrace his daughter. Had they, instead, for years and years been inhabitants of a world where scripts and shooting schedules were only secondary—good covers, as Fassett might say?
Tanner looked at his watch. It was two minutes past five. The Ostermans were early—according to their original schedule. Perhaps it was their first mistake. Or perhaps they didn't expect him to be there. He always left the Woodward studio early when the Ostermans came, but not always in time to be home before five-thirty. Leila's letter had said plainly their flight from Los Angeles was due at Kennedy around five. A plane being late was understandable, normal. A flight that got in ahead of schedule was improbable.
They'd have to have an explanation. Would they bother?
"Johnny! For heaven's sake! I thought I heard the pup barking. It's Bernie and Lella. What are you standing there for?" Ali had come out of the kitchen.
"Oh, sorry. ... I just wanted to let Janet have her moment with them."
"Go on out, silly. I'll just set the timer." His wife walked back towards the kitchen as Tanner approached the front door. He stared at the brass knob and felt as he thought an actor might feel before making his first entrance in a difficult part Unsure—totally unsure—of his reception.
He wet his lips and drew the back of his hand across his forehead. Deliberately he twisted the knob and pulled the door back swiftly. With his other hand he unlatched the aluminum screened panel and stepped outside.
The Ostennan weekend had begun.
"Welcome, Schreibers!" he shouted with a wide grin. It was his usual greeting; Bernie considered it the most honorific.
"Johnny!"
"Hi, darling!"
Thirty yards away, they shouted back and smiled broad smiles. Yet even thirty yards away John Tanner could see their unsmiling eyes. Their eyes searched his—briefly, but unmistakably. For a split second Bernie even stopped smiling, stopped any motion whatsoever.
It was over in a moment. And there seemed to be a tacit agreement between them not to pursue the unspoken thoughts.
"Johnny, it's so awfully good to see you!" Leila ran across the lawn.
John Tanner accepted Leila's embrace and found himself responding with more overt affection than he thought he could muster. He knew why. He had passed the first test, the opening seconds of the Ostennan weekend. He began to realize that Laurence Fassett could be right, after all. Perhaps he could carry it off.
Do as you'd normally do; behave as you'd normally behave. Don't think about anything else.
"John, you look great, just great, man!"
"Where's Ali, sweetie?" asked Leila who stepped aside so Bernie could throw his long thin arms around Tanner.
"Inside. Casserole-doing-time. Come on in! Here, I'll grab the bag. . . . No, Janet, honey, you can't lift Uncle Bernie's suitcase."
"I don't know why not," laughed Bernie. "Ali it's filled with is towels from The Plaza."
"The Plaza?" Tanner couldn't help himself. "I thought your plane just got in."
Osterman glanced at him. "Uh uh. We flew in a couple of days ago. I'll tell you about it...."
In a strange way it was like old times, and Tanner was astonished that he found himself accepting the fact. There was still the sense of relief at physically seeing each other again, knowing that time and distance were meaningless to their friendship. There was still the feeling that they could take up conversations, continue anecdotes, finish stories begun months previously. And there was still Bernie; gentle, reflective Bernie with his quiet, devastating comments about the palm-lined dog store. Devastating but somehow never condescending; Bernie laughed at himself as well as his professional world, for it was his world.
Tanner remembered Fassett's words.
". . . you'll find yourself functioning on two levels quite comfortably. It's always like that."
Again, Fassett was right ... In and out; in and out.
It struck Tanner as he watched Bernie that Leila kept shifting her eyes away from her husband to him. Once he returned her look; she lowered her eyes as a child might after a reprimand.
The telephone rang in the study. The sound was jarring to everyone but Alice. There was an extension phone on the table behind the sofa, but John ignored it as he crossed in front of the Ostermans towards the study door.
"I'll take it out here. It's probably the studio."
As he entered the study he heard Leila speak to Ali, her voice lowered.
"Sweetie, Johnny seems tense. Is anything the matter? The way Bernie drawls on no one can get a word in."
"Tense is understating it! You should have seen him yesterday!"
The telephone rang again; Tanner knew it wouldn't be normal to let it ring further. Yet he wanted so much to hear the Ostermans' reaction to Ali's story of the Wednesday terror.
He compromised. He picked the phone out of the cradle, held it to his side and listened for several seconds to the conversation.
Something-caught his ear. Bernie and Leila reacted to Ali's words too quickly, with too much anticipation. They were asking questions before she finished sentences! They did know something.
"Hello? Hello! Hello, hello!" The anxious voice on the other end of the line belonged to Joe Cardone.
"Hello, Joe? Sorry, I dropped the phone...."
"I didn't hear it drop."
"Very soft, very expensive carpets."
"Where? In that study of yours with the parquet floor?"
"Hey, come on, Joe."
"Sorry. . . . The city was rotten hot today and the market's going to hell."
'That's better. Now you sound like the cheerful i fellow we're waiting for."
"You mean everybody's there?"
"No. Just Bernie and Leila."
"They're early. I thought the plane got in at five."
"They flew in a couple of days ago."
Cardone started to speak and then abruptly stopped. He seemed to catch his breath. "Funny they didn't call. I mean, they didn't get in touch with me. Did they with you?"
"No, I guess they had business."
"Sure, but you'd think. . . ." Again Cardone stopped in the middle of a sentence. Tanner wondered whether this hesitation was meant for him; to convince him of the fact that Bernie and Joe hadn't met, hadn't spoken with each other.
"Bernie'll probably tell us all about it."
"Yeah," said Cardone, not really listening. "Well, I just wanted to let you know we'd be late. I'll grab a quick shower; be there soon."
"See you." Tanner hung up the phone, surprised at his own calm. It occurred to him that he had controlled the conversation. Controlled it. He had to. Cardone was a nervous man and he hadn't called to say he'd be late. To begin with, he wasn't late.
Cardone had phoned to see if the others had come. Or if they were coming.
Tanner returned to the living room and sat down.
"Darling! Ali just told us! How dreadful! How simply terrifying!"
"My God, John! What an awful experience! The police said it was robbery?"
"So did The New York Times. Guess that makes it official."
"I didn't see anything in The Times" stated Bernie firmly.
"It was only a few lines near the back. We'll get better coverage in the local paper next week."
"I've never heard of any robbery like that," said Leila. "I wouldn't settle for that, I really wouldn't."
Bernie looked at her. "I don't know. It's actually pretty smart. No identification, no harm to anyone."
"What I don't understand is why they didn't just leave us in the garage." Ali turned to her husband. It was a question he hadn't answered satisfactorily.
"Did the police say why?" asked Bernie.
"They said the gas was a low-yield variety. The thieves didn't want Ali or the kids to come to and see them. Very professional."
"Very scary," Leila said. "How did the kids take it?"
"Ray's a neighborhood hero, of course," said Ali. "Janet's still not sure what happened."
"Where is Ray?" Bernie pointed to a package in the hall. "I hope he hasn't outgrown model airplanes. That's one of those remote-control things."
"He'll love it," said Ali. "He's in the basement, I think. John's turning it over to him.. .."
"No, he's outside. In the pool." Tanner realized that his interruption, his sharp correction of Ali, caused Bernie to look at him. Even Ali was startled by the abruptness of his statement.
So be it, thought Tanner. Let them all know the father was aware, every second, of the whereabouts of his own.
The dog began barking in front of the house; the sound of a car could be heard in the driveway. Alice walked to the window.
"It's Dick and Ginny. And Ray's not in the pool," she added, smiling at John. "He's in front saying hello."
"He must have heard the car," said Leila for no apparent reason.
Tanner wondered why she made the remark; it was as if she were defending him. He went to the front door and opened it. "Come on in, son. Some other friends of yours are here."
When he saw the Ostermans, the boy's eyes lit up. The Ostermans never arrived empty-handed. "Hello, Aunt Leila, Uncle Bernie!" Raymond Tanner, age twelve, walked into the arms of Leila and then shook hands manfully, shyly, with Bernie.
"We brought you a little something. Actually your buddy Merv suggested it." Bernie crossed to the hall and picked up the package. "Hope you like it."
"Thank you very much." The boy took the gift and went into the dining room to unwrap it.
Virginia Tremayne came in, the picture of cool sensuality. She was dressed in a man-styled shirt with multicolored stripes and a tight knit skirt which accentuated the movements of her body. There were women in Saddle Valley who resented Ginny's appearance, but they weren't in these rooms. Ginny was a good friend.
"I told Dick you called Wednesday," she said to Tanner, "but he says you never reached him The poor lamb's been holed up in a conference suite with some awful merger people from Cincinnati or Cleveland or somewhere. . . . Leila, darling! Bernie, love!" Ginny pecked Tanner's cheek and choreographed herself past him.
Richard Tremayne came in. He was watching Tanner and wh
at he saw obviously pleased him.
Tanner, on the other hand, felt the look and whipped his head around too quickly. Tremayne didn't have time to shift his eyes away. The news director recognized in the lawyer's stare the look of a doctor studying a medical chart.
For a split second both men silently, unwillingly, acknowledged the tension. And then it passed, as it had passed with the Ostermans. Neither man dared sustain it.
"Hey, John! Sorry I didn't get your message. Ginny mentioned something legal."
"I thought you might have read about it."
"What, for God's sake?"
"We didn't get much coverage in the New York papers, but wait'll you read next Monday's weekly. We'll be celebrities."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"We were robbed Wednesday. Robbed and kidnapped and chloroformed and God knows what else!"
"You're joking!"
"The hell he is!" Osterman walked into the hallway. "How are you, Dick?"
"Bernie! How are you, buddy?" The men grasped hands, but Tremayne could not seem to take his attention from John Tanner.
"Did you hear what he said? Did you hear that? What happened, for Christ's sake? I've been in town since Tuesday. Didn't even have time to get home."
"We'll tell you all about it. Later. Let me get your drinks." Tanner walked away rapidly. He couldn't fault Tremayne's reaction. The lawyer was not only shocked by what he'd heard, he was frightened. So much so that he had to make clear he had been gone since Tuesday.
Tanner made drinks for the Tremaynes and then went into the kitchen and looked out past his pool to the edge of the woods. Although there was no one in sight, he knew the men were there. With binoculars, with radios, probably with tiny speakers which magnified conversations taking place in any section of his house.
"Hey, John, I wasn't kidding!" It was Tremayne walking into the kitchen. "Honest to God, I didn't know anything about it. About Wednesday, I mean. Why the hell didn't you reach me?"
"I tried. I even called a number on Long Island. Oyster Bay, I think."
"Oh, shit! You know what I mean! You or Ali should have told Ginny. I'd have left the conference, you know that!"
The Osterman weekend Page 12