She said coldly, “The police are watching this house.”
“How did he get in?”
“They passed him. As a police detective. He warned me not to report him. Because the police might like to know how I came by the box.”
He said, “If you’ll get out of here, I’ll finish dressing. If you don’t, I’ll finish dressing anyway.”
His eyes were without feeling. She turned and went out. She walked into the living room, sat there on the couch, cold, unmoving. She shouldn’t let him go out. She should tell him now that the unclean man didn’t have the Imperial, that it was only the box he had taken. She couldn’t tell him. She had to save it for Towner, for Dekertian. And she knew, knew as definitely as if he stood before her and told her with his own tongue, that it would make no difference to Gavin if she did speak. He would go after that man. Because the man had dared. Because the miserable messenger was a danger to be hunted down now, in fury’s heat.
She started when he stood before her. She said, “I think you’re crazy.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He had regained his humor, his face was alive. There was the smell of excitement about him.
“How do you expect to get by the police?” He laughed. “That’s my least trouble. Your friend, Mr. Smith, can certainly go out if an old pal of his calls from Grand Central. Here between trains.”
She didn’t deny that he’d get past the police. He could do anything while the dare was upon him. He didn’t know how to be safe, now that he’d kicked off safeness; his recklessness would guerdon him. She said, “You can’t come back in here tonight. I wouldn’t let anyone in again tonight.”
“Stick to that, precious. Not anyone.” He buttoned his coat, set his hat on his head. “I’ll report tomorrow.”
She followed him to the door. “You shouldn’t go. You really shouldn’t.” It was a crumb to her conscience.
He laughed joyfully. “I have my reputation to maintain, Liza. I’m thinking I’ve been civilized too damn long.” His eyes smiled down at her, smiled as if she were something special. Before she knew, he had stooped and kissed her. He was gone quickly, the slam of the door banging with his laughter.
She put her hand to her mouth as if it hurt. Her breath said desperately, “Gavin.” But she knew he was gone.
She held her hand to her mouth but it wasn’t her mouth that hurt, it was something deep within her. She couldn’t care for Gavin; he was everything that she wanted to forget. He was the corner of her life that she would turn past and never look back upon once the Imperial was returned to Iran. He couldn’t spoil things now. She wanted only what other girls of her years took for granted, everyday happenings. Some day love. Not his kind of love, fraught with ever present danger. Ordinary love. She’d never had anything like others had, not since she was a little girl. Because Gavin had kissed her, she couldn’t ache for him.
She turned out the lights, hurried back to her bedroom. She lay on the bed, her eyes closed. She was safe, entirely safe. No one could get in the apartment. The bolt on the back door, the Yale lock on the front, the inaccessible windows.
He must come back. He was wild and crazy but he was too vital to die. If he died she had sent him to death. It didn’t matter what he had done. He mustn’t die. She would give him the Imp.
She didn’t care about Towner; she’d never cared about Towner. He’d taken her in when she was desperate, starving, lost. He’d brought her back to life, to food and clothes and sleep in a bed, not on blood-wet cobbles. He’d nursed her to sanity. But she had paid her debt. She’d worked for him for five years now. Without her help he’d never have found the Koskowsky pearls. Without her he wouldn’t have possession of the Chu jade, the breathlessly beautiful pale jade of antiquity.
She didn’t have to hold the Imp for Towner. He didn’t want it for his collection. It was to be returned to Iran where it belonged. A task undertaken for his friend, Feroun Dekertian. And for her. She could tell Gavin the whole story. He wouldn’t want to withhold it from Dekertian when he knew the whole story. Gavin wasn’t bad, he wasn’t a thief like the Bey’s hirelings. He too would want to right the wrong.
And with the Scarlet Imperial returned, Dekertian would know Thad was innocent; he would then seek out who had killed Thad. He had promised Towner. Thad’s death would be avenged. It was all she could do now for Thad, but it would be done. Towner wouldn’t blame her for changing the orders if the end were the same.
If Gavin returned the Imperial to Dekertian, the truth of the death of Hester would be accepted; the killing of a thief in self-defence. Towner had diplomatic connections; he would take care of Gavin’s safety. She and Gavin …
Her foolish moments of wishing that Bry Brewer would seek her as a woman seemed babyish now. It hadn’t been Bry she wanted; it had been safety, a normal civilized life. She and Gavin could build that life once they were rid of the Imp; there was no reason why they couldn’t have it. He must be as wearied of the borderline as she. He’d known it longer than she; he had said it, since he was a boy in Galway.
She knew now why she’d hidden Gavin here; knowing he was her enemy, why she’d taken him in, fed and clothed him, lied for him. It hadn’t been for any of the reasons she’d dressed it in. It was because even in the antagonism of first meeting, heart had spoken.
That wasn’t a rustle at the window. No one could be soft-footing through the apartment. No one could have come in and hidden; Gavin had been in all day. Had he? He could have gone out, his topcoat was buttoned to his chin when she returned tonight. Had the cloth been damp at that time? She hadn’t touched him. If he had gone out, how did he get back in? Only by leaving open a door. The front way. He wouldn’t have gone that way. Not and be noticed by the elevator man. Not and be questioned by the police.
The back way. There’d be police on the back door too. He was smoothtongued; he’d have an excuse. He hadn’t known about the police. He might have gone down the back stairs, crept up again when he saw the disturbance below. While he was gone, someone could have slipped in the apartment.
Her breath was so loud. She tried to keep it soundless, to listen for rustling, for a muted footfall on the deep pile of the rugs. Her eyes were clenched tight. She dared not move. She was being absurd. How could anyone have entered today? The police were watching the house, no one could have slipped by them.
She mustn’t give way to nervous disorders. She knew that no one was here. Towner had no nerves; in a tight spot he remembered other days, halcyon days. Think of the Islands, of flaming beauty and the incongruous mildness of sea and wind. Think if she must of bombs screaming, of Thad the night before he flew away. To die, not in battle, but ignominiously in a dirty jail.
Think of the Islands and Gavin. She hadn’t dared love since Thad had gone. Towner had told her often, to love again wouldn’t be forgetting. Thad and she had been boy and girl. She had realized the truth of Towner’s words but she had been afraid. She had feared the hurt of losing the beloved, she had been hurt too young. Love brought its own courage. These months, this enforced quiet, clean life, had been curative. She could love now. If Towner didn’t take her away, if she could stay with Gavin perhaps there could be love.
She had heard something. Muffled tapping. Someone prying into the lock. The back door. She began to tremble. Fearfully, desperately she slid one hand out, snatched on the light. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Her mind scorned her cowardice but her will could not control it. Because she had faced too much violence since yesterday. Because when she was a child she had seen her mother, her father, her brother blown apart by guns in the hands of the bestial invaders. Because she had lain with the dead, pretending death, to escape the swarming dark beasts. She had never been able to forget the rooted terror, not even under Towner’s nursing. He knew; he had promised her under his protection she would never have to face violence. Had he forgotten her? She reached for the phone, but her hand fell. The bolt would hold. If it didn’t hold, would he come again, th
e dreadful little man with the snaggled teeth, the dirty eyes? The man who by now could have discovered the substitution, who would return with his twitching gun. The man she’d fooled twice, who wouldn’t dare fail a third time. The man who might be sent by El Bey.
She huddled there on the bed unable to stop shaking. And the front door buzzer sounded. She pulled her robe about her. She couldn’t move. She had to; it must be Towner; she couldn’t let Towner go away. She fled to the door, not stopping to light her way, afraid to light it lest she see someone. “Who is it?”
“It’s Bryan Brewer.” There was no doubting the voice. “Liza, open the door.”
She opened the door, only a hairline, ready to slam it in the face of a stranger. She saw Bry, behind him Franz waited. She pulled the door wide. “Bry.” Her voice broke.
He had his arm around her as if she were a child in nightmare. “For God’s sake, what’s the matter?”
She spoke rapidly to Franz. “That man Richards sent up here tonight wasn’t a policemen. He had a gun.” She couldn’t talk about it.
“Miss Eliza, he showed his badge. It was a policeman’s badge.”
She shook her head, it kept shaking. Bry said, “Where is he?”
“Gone.”
Bry said, “Then what—”
She whispered, “At the back—someone—”
Bry ran, Franz followed making lights as he moved. She was close after them. She couldn’t look as the bolt was withdrawn. She heard the door opened, she heard it closed.
“There’s no one out here.”
She tried to speak but only the whistling sound of her breath was heard.
Bry ordered, “Liza, stop it.”
Her voice gulped, “I can’t. I want to but I can’t.” Her teeth were chattering. “There’s been too much.”
His arm was strong about her as he moved her to the game room, put her into a chair.
Franz said, “There’s a doctor in Six B.”
She clenched the chair arms, trying not to hear the sound of her teeth. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m all right.”
Bry had uncorked a bottle from the portable bar. He didn’t look for a glass; he thrust it at her. “Take a big one.” He guided it to her mouth.
Her tongue burned and the fire ran into her veins, into her fingertips and toes. “Take another,” Bry ordered. She shook her head, then obeyed the decision on his face.
She said, “I’ll be all right now.”
Franz’ gentle face was above her. “If I can do anything, Miss Eliza.”
She managed to speak. “Thank you. I’ll call you.”
He hesitated. “I’ll get back to the elevator.” He went away.
She clutched Bry’s coatsleeve. “Be sure the door is locked after him.”
He put down the bottle and followed Franz. She didn’t relax even when he returned. “Are you sure you bolted the kitchen?”
“Absolutely certain.” He sat down on the couch facing her. “Don’t talk if it bothers you. But I would like to know what it’s all about. This man with the gun. What did he want?”
She said, “The Scarlet Imperial.”
For a moment his face didn’t change, then it did as if lightning had zigzagged across it. “What do you know of the Scarlet Imperial?”
She realized. It had never been spoken between them; it had never been mentioned in the office. She could not know of the Imp except through some outside source. She wouldn’t let herself start that awful trembling again. She held her hands clenched together. “I know it’s dangerous. Dangerous enough to mean death to the one who has it.”
“You’ve talked to Gavin.” It was statement. His voice was suddenly rough. “Where’s Gavin?”
“I don’t know. He’s gone to kill a man. Or be killed. Because I was silent.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“I don’t know. That is the truth.”
“You’ve seen him.” She didn’t deny it now.
He studied her face. “He did come here last night?”
It wasn’t a question but she answered. “Yes.”
He couldn’t sit quiet longer. He was on his feet, pacing the room. “Where did he go after that?” He stopped, swung to her. “That man. The one who was killed. Gavin—”
She lied. “No. The man who shot Hester, shot at Gavin too.”
“Is he hurt?”
Again she lied. “Just a scratch. It got him in the shoulder.”
He towered above her. “How do you know this?” His eyes narrowed.
“It happened up here.”
She shook her head. Her fingernails cut into her hands. “No. No. It was after they left the apartment.”
“You lied to that F.B.I. man.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t know Hester.” She begged understanding. “I couldn’t tell Jones everything. Gavin doesn’t want the law in on this. Not yet.” She lifted her chin, accused, “You don’t either.”
He didn’t deny it. He asked after a moment, “Do you know how to reach Gavin?”
“No.”
He didn’t believe her. She was silent, unprotesting.
His mouth took on a queer expression. “Did you know Gavin before?”
“Oh no!”
He said, “It’s funny he’d come to you, not to me. If you didn’t know him.”
“Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to come to you.” She took a breath. “He came to me because I had the Imp. I did bring it here, after that messenger tried to get it from me in the office. I was afraid to leave it there.”
“You gave it to Gavin?”
She evaded. “It was his.”
“It wasn’t his. He brought it to me.”
She asked him now. “Why did you want the Imp?”
He sat down again. “A client ordered it. A year ago. It’s taken me long enough to get it.” His laugh was brief. “I don’t have it yet. Maybe I never will.”
She hesitated. If she gave the jeweled egg to him now, she would be rid of it. Her apartment would be safe. Dekertian would have his royal treasure. Towner had missed that one piece of information, why Bry Brewer wanted the Imp. All she had to do was give it to Bry and everything fell in place. And how would Bry safely carry the Imperial away tonight?
She spoke only as a cover for her thoughts, mechanically. “The client is Feroun Dekertian.”
“No.”
She couldn’t believe she’d heard what he said. But he was repeating it, thoughtfully. “No—”
She cried out, “But you … you wired …” Her voice trickled into stark silence. She knew that click. It was the front door opening. She couldn’t move. Even her eyes were frozen.
Bry began, “What’s the matter—” and then he too heard.
The door closed. The soft footsteps moving across the foyer, through the living room, coming closer, coming here. She had to turn. She had to turn and look into the small, mean face of danger. Slowly her eyes lifted.
For the moment her heart stopped beating. It was only Gavin. She closed her eyes in relief.
Then swiftly she raised them again. It was Gavin. And in his hand was a gun.
He was speaking. She didn’t know his voice. He said, “Where is the Scarlet Imperial?”
She didn’t have to answer. Bry was striding across the room. “Gavin! For God’s sake, Gavin, where have you been?”
Bry couldn’t have seen the gun. He had Gavin’s shoulders, holding them with affection, shaking them slightly.
Gavin’s voice winced, “Easy there, old man.”
She cried, “Bry, his shoulder!”
Bry’s hands dropped. “I forgot. Eliza told me you’d been hurt.”
Gavin said, “It isn’t much.” He slid the gun into his coat pocket. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”
She took a breath. “How did you get in?”
He didn’t smile at her. “I copped a key.” He tossed his hat at the couch, took a glass from the cabinet, poured himself a drink, swallowed it. “Good thing I did. Wha
t did you do with the Imperial?”
Her voice was small. “I gave it to that—”
Bry cried unbelievably, “Eliza!”
Gavin sat down on the couch. “Hold it, Bry. You have plenty to catch up on.” His jaw hardened. “Let’s get this out of the way.” He turned his cold eyes on her. “You gave him a box. What did you do with the Imperial?”
She wouldn’t tell him. Not now. Neither he nor Bry had any intention of giving it to Dekertian. To them the Imperial was nothing but a piece of merchandise, to be delivered and sold. She would wait for Towner. Gavin would not take the Imperial from her at gun point. Not with Bry here. Gavin wasn’t working for the Bey.
Her voice was bewildered innocence as she spoke. “I don’t know what you mean. I told you what happened. That man had a gun. I gave him—”
Gavin smiled, a cold and terrible smile. “You gave him a box with a cake of soap in it.”
She opened her eyes wide, unbelieving. “No. Oh no.”
“Yes.”
She whispered, “How do you know that?” Her fearful face told him how she thought he knew. Another man who had been in Gavin’s way.
He said, “I told you I could find Pottsy. I found him.”
“It wasn’t Potts.”
“No, but Potts had run into him. Potts keeps his eye on the ball. The little guy was staying in a cheap dump on lower Broadway. We went up to his room. We could hear someone inside. He didn’t answer the knocking—so we went in.”
“Who is Potts?” Bry asked.
She answered, “Potts is one of the men trying to steal the Imperial.” Her lip curled. “Gavin and he are friends.”
Gavin said evenly, coldly, “The only way I could find your thief in a hurry was through Potts. I promised to cut him in on the Imperial deal if he’d take me to the guy. If Pottsy had the brains in his head he has in his nose, he’d not have trusted me.” His smile frosted. “But then, I had a persuader.”
Bry demanded impatiently, “What happened?”
“The little guy was dead.”
“Dead!” Her eyes burned.
Gavin closed his hands on his throat. “The quiet way. The safe way.”
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