The Other Side of Midnight

by Sidney Sheldon

  He told himself that she was a bitch and he had probably happened to catch her on a bad day. But the next incident a week later convinced him that he was facing a serious problem.

  On Demiris' orders Larry picked Noelle up in Oslo and flew her to London. Because of what had happened Larry had gone over the flight plan with particular care. There was a high pressure area to the north and some possible thunderheads building up to the east. Larry worked out a route that skirted these areas, and the flight proved to be perfectly smooth. He brought the ship down in a flawless three-point landing, and he and Paul Metaxas strolled back to the cabin. Noelle Page was putting on some lipstick. "I hope you enjoyed your flight, Miss Page," Larry said politely.

  Noelle glanced up at him a moment, her face expressionless, then turned to Paul Metaxas. "I'm always nervous when I'm flown by an incompetent."

  Larry felt his face redden. He started to speak, and Noelle said to Metaxas, "Please ask him not to address me in the future unless 1 speak to him first."

  Metaxas swallowed and mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

  Larry stared at Noelle, his eyes filled with fury, as she rose and left the plane. His impulse had been to slap her, but he knew that would have been the end of him. He loved this job more than anything he had ever done, and he did not intend to let anything happen to it. He knew that if he were fired, it could be the last flying job he would ever get. No, he would have to be very careful in the future.

  When Larry got home, he talked to Catherine about what had happened.

  "She's out to get me," Larry said.

  "She sounds horrible," Catherine replied. "Could you have offended her in some way, Larry?"

  "I haven't spoken a dozen words to her."

  Catherine took his hand. "Don't worry," she said, consolingly. "Before you're through, you'll charm her. Wait and see."

  The next day when Larry flew Constantin Demiris on a brief business trip to Turkey, Demiris came into the cockpit and took Metaxas' seat. He dismissed the copilot with a wave of his hand, and Larry and Demiris were alone. They sat there is silence, watching the small stratus clouds slicing the plane into fluffy geometric patterns.

  "Miss Page has taken a dislike to you," Demiris said, finally.

  Larry felt his hands tighten on the controls and deliberately forced them to relax. He fought to keep his voice calm. "Did--did she say why?"

  "She said you were rude to her."

  Larry opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He would have to work this out in his own way.

  "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful, Mr. Demiris," he said evenly.

  Demiris got to his feet. "Do that. I would suggest that you not offend Miss Page any further." He left the cockpit.

  Any further! Larry racked his brain, trying to think of what he might have done to offend her. Perhaps she just did not like his type. Or she could have been jealous of the fact that Demiris liked and trusted him, but that didn't make sense. Nothing Larry could think of made any sense. And yet Noelle Page was trying to get him fired.

  Larry thought about what it was like being out of a job, the indignity of filling out applications like a damned schoolboy, the interviews, the waiting, the endless hours of trying to kill time with cheap bars and amateur whores. He remembered Catherine's patience and tolerance and how he had hated her for it. No, he could not go through all that again. He could not stand another failure.

  On a layover in Beirut a few days later Larry passed a movie theater and noticed that the picture playing there starred Noelle Page. On an impulse he went to see it, prepared to hate the picture and its star, but Noelle was so brilliant in it that he found himself completely carried away by her performance. Again he had the curious feeling of familiarity. The following Monday, Larry flew Noelle Page and some business associates of Demiris' to Zurich. Larry waited until Noelle Page was alone and then approached her. He had hesitated about talking to her, remembering her last warning to him, but he had decided that the only way he could break through her antagonism was to go out of his way to be pleasant to her. All actresses were egotistical and liked to be told they were good, and so now he came up to her and said, with careful courtesy, "Excuse me, Miss Page, I just wanted to tell you that I saw you in a movie the other night. The Third Face. I think you're one of the greatest actresses I've ever seen."

  Noelle stared at him a moment and then replied, "I would like to believe that you are a better critic than you are a pilot, but I doubt very much that you have either the intelligence or the taste." And she walked away.

  Larry stood rooted there, feeling as though he had been struck. The goddamned cunt! For an instant he was tempted to follow her and tell her what he thought of her, but he knew it would be playing into her hands. No. From now on he would simply do his job and keep as far away from her as possible.

  During the next few weeks Noelle was his passenger on several flights. Larry did not speak to her at all, and he tried desperately hard to arrange it so that she did not see him. He kept out of the cabin and had Metaxas handle any necessary communications with the passengers. There were no further comments from Noelle Page, and Larry congratulated himself on having solved the problem.

  As it turned out, he congratulated himself too soon.

  One morning Demiris sent for Larry at the villa. "Miss Page is flying to Paris for me on some confidential business. I want you to stay at her side."

  "Yes, Mr. Demiris."

  Demiris studied him for a moment, started to add something else, then changed his mind. "That's all."

  Noelle was the only passenger on the flight to Paris and Larry decided to fly the Piper. He arranged for Paul Metaxas to make Noelle comfortable and stayed in the cockpit, out of sight during the entire flight. When they landed, Larry walked back to her seat and said, "Excuse me, Miss Page. Mr. Demiris asked me to stay with you while you're in Paris."

  She looked up at him with contempt and said, "Very well. Just don't let me know that you're around."

  He nodded in icy silence.

  They rode into the city from Orly in a private limousine. Larry sat up front with the driver and Noelle Page sat in back. She did not speak to him during the journey into the city. Their first stop was Paribas, the Banque de Paris et des Bas. Larry went into the lobby with Noelle and waited while she was ushered into the office of the president and then down to the basement where the safe-deposit boxes were kept. Noelle was gone about thirty minutes, and when she returned, she swept straight past Larry without a word. He stared after her a moment, then turned and followed her.

  Their next stop was the rue du Faubourg-St.-Honore. Noelle dismissed the car. Larry followed her into a department store and stood nearby while she selected the items she wanted, then handed him the packages to carry. She shopped in half a dozen stores: Hermes for some purses and belts, Guerlain for perfume, Celine for shoes, until Larry was burdened down with packages. If she was aware of his discomfiture, Noelle gave no sign. Larry might have been some pet animal that she was leading around.

  As they walked out of Celine's, it began to rain. Pedestrians were scurrying to take shelter. "Wait here for me," Noelle commanded.

  Larry stood there and watched her disappear into a restaurant across the street. He waited in the driving rain for two hours, his arms full of packages, cursing her and cursing himself for putting up with her behavior. He was trapped and he did not know how to get out of it.

  And he had a terrible foreboding that it was going to get worse.

  The first time Catherine met Constantin Demiris was at his villa. Larry had gone there to deliver a package he had flown in from Copenhagen, and Catherine had gone to the house with him. She was standing in the huge reception hall admiring a painting, when a door opened and Demiris came out. He watched her a moment, then said "Do you like Manet, Mrs. Douglas?"

  Catherine swung around and found herself face to face with the legend she had heard so much about. She had two immediate impressions: Constantin Demiris was taller
than she had imagined, and there was an overpowering energy in him that was almost frightening. Catherine was amazed that he knew her name and who she was. He seemed to go out of his way to put her at ease. He asked Catherine how she liked Greece, whether her apartment was comfortable, and to let him know if he could do anything to help make her stay pleasant. He even knew--though God alone knew how!--that she collected miniature birds. "I saw a lovely one," he told her. "I will send it to you."

  Larry appeared, and he and Catherine left.

  "How did you like Demiris?" Larry asked.

  "He's a charmer," she said. "No wonder you enjoy working for him."

  "And I'm going to keep working for him." There was a grimness in his voice that Catherine did not understand.

  The following day a beautiful porcelain bird was delivered to Catherine.

  Catherine saw Constantin Demiris twice after that, once when she went to the races with Larry and once at a Christmas party Demiris gave at his villa. Each time he went out of his way to be charming to her. All in all, Catherine thought, Constantin Demiris was quite a remarkable person.

  In August the Athens Festival began. For two months the city presented plays, ballets, operas, concerts--all given in the Herodes Atticus, the ancient open-air theater at the foot of the Acropolis. Catherine saw several of the plays with Larry, and when he was away she went with Count Pappas. It was fascinating to watch ancient plays staged in their original settings by the race that had created them.

  One night after Catherine and Count Pappas had gone to see a production of Medea, they were talking about Larry.

  "He's an interesting man," Count Pappas said. "Polymechanos."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It is difficult to translate." The Count thought for a moment. "It means 'fertile in devices.'"

  "You mean 'resourceful'?"

  "Yes, but more than that. Someone who is always very ready with a new idea, a new plan."

  "Polymechanos," Catherine said. "That's my boy."

  Above them there was a beautiful, waxing gibbous moon. The night was balmy and warm. They walked through the Plaka toward Omonia Square. As they started to cross the street, a car raced around the corner, headed straight toward them and the Count pulled Catherine to safety.

  "Idiot!" he yelled after the disappearing driver.

  "Everyone here seems to drive like that," Catherine said.

  Count Pappas smiled ruefully. "Do you know the reason? The Greeks haven't made the transition to automobiles. In their hearts they're still driving donkeys."

  "You're joking."

  "Unfortunately no. If you want insight into the Greeks, Catherine, don't read the guidebooks; read the old Greek tragedies. The truth is, we still belong to other centuries. Emotionally we're very primitive. We're filled with grand passions, deep joys and great sorrows, and we haven't learned how to cover them up with a civilized veneer."

  "I'm not sure that's a bad thing," Catherine replied.

  "Perhaps not. But it distorts reality. When outsiders look at us, they are not seeing what they think they see. It is like looking at a distant star. You are not really seeing the star, you are looking at a reflection of the past."

  They had reached the square. They passed a row of little stores with signs in the windows that said "Fortune-Telling."

  "There are a lot of fortune-tellers here, aren't there?" Catherine asked.

  "We are a very superstitious people."

  Catherine shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't believe in it."

  They had reached a small taverna. A hand-lettered sign in the window read: "MADAME PIRIS, FORTUNE-TELLING."

  "Do you believe in witches?" Count Pappas asked.

  Catherine looked at him to see if he was teasing. His face was serious. "Only on Halloween."

  "By a witch I do not mean broomsticks and black cats and boiling kettles."

  "What do you mean?"

  He nodded toward the sign. "Madame Piris is a witch. She can read the past and the future."

  He saw the skepticism on Catherine's face. "I will tell you a story," Count Pappas said. "Many years ago, the Chief of Police in Athens was a man named Sophocles Vasilly. He was a friend of mine and I used my influence to help him get into office. Vasilly was a very honest man. There were people who wished to corrupt him and since he would not be corrupted, they decided that he would have to be eliminated." He took Catherine's arm and they crossed the street toward the park.

  "One day, Vasilly came to tell me of a threat that had been made on his life. He was a brave man, but this threat disturbed him because it came from a powerful and ruthless racketeer. Detectives were assigned to watch the racketeer and to protect Vasilly, but still he had an uneasy feeling that he did not have long to live. That was when he came to me."

  Catherine was listening, fascinated. "What did you do?" she asked.

  "I advised him to get a reading from Madame Piris." He was silent, his thoughts prowling restlessly in some dark arena of the past.

  "Did he go?" Catherine finally asked.

  "What? Oh, yes. She told Vasilly that death was going to come to him unexpectedly and quickly and warned him to beware of a lion at noon. There are no lions in Greece, except for a few old mangy ones at the zoo and the stone ones you have seen on Delos."

  Catherine could feel the tension in Pappas' voice as he continued.

  "Vasilly went to the zoo personally to check the cages to make sure that the animals were secure, and he made inquiries as to any wild animals that might have recently been brought into Athens. There were none.

  "A week went by and nothing happened, and Vasilly decided that the old witch had been wrong and that he had been a superstitious fool for paying any attention to her. On a Saturday morning I dropped by the police station to pick him up. It was his son's fourth birthday, and we were going to take a boat trip to Kyron to celebrate.

  "I drove up in front of the station just as the clock in the Town Hall was striking twelve. As I reached the entrance, there was a tremendous explosion from inside the building. I hurried inside to Vasilly's office." His voice sounded stiff and awkward. "There was nothing left of the office--or of Vasilly."

  "How horrible," Catherine murmured.

  They walked on for a moment in silence. "But the witch was wrong, wasn't she?" Catherine asked. "He wasn't killed by a lion."

  "Ah, but he was, you see. The police reconstructed what had happened. As I told you, it was the boy's birthday. Vasilly's desk was piled with gifts that he was going to bring to his son. Someone had brought in a birthday gift, a toy, and laid it on Vasilly's desk."

  Catherine felt the blood leaving her face. "A toy lion."

  Count Pappas nodded. "Yes. 'Beware of a lion at noon.'"

  Catherine shuddered. "That gives me the creeps."

  He looked down at her sympathetically. "Madame Piris is not a 'fun' fortune-teller to go to."

  They had crossed through the park and reached Piraios Street. An empty taxi was passing by. The Count hailed it, and ten minutes later Catherine was back at her apartment.

  As she prepared for bed, she told Larry the story, and as she told it, her flesh began to crawl again. Larry held her tightly and made love to her, but it was a long time before Catherine was able to fall asleep.

  NOELLE AND CATHERINE

  Athens: 1946

  15

  If it had not been for Noelle Page, Larry Douglas would have had no worries. He was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do. He enjoyed his job, the people he met, and the man for whom he worked. On the ground his life was equally satisfactory. When he was not flying, he spent a good part of his time with Catherine; but because Larry's job was so mobile, Catherine was not always aware of where he was, and Larry found innumerable opportunities to go out on his own. He went to parties with Count Pappas and Paul Metaxas, his copilot, and a satisfying number of them turned into orgies. Greek women were filled with passion and fire. He had found a new one, Helena, a stewardess who worke
d for Demiris, and when they had a stopover away from Athens, she and Larry shared a hotel room. Helena was a beautiful, slim, dark-eyed girl, and insatiable. Yes, everything considered, Larry Douglas decided that his life was perfect.

  Except for Demiris' blond bitch mistress.

  Larry had not the slightest clue as to what made Noelle Page despise him, but whatever it was, it was endangering his way of life. Larry had tried being polite, aloof, friendly, and each time Noelle Page succeeded in making him look like a fool. Larry knew that he could go to Demiris, but he had no illusions about what would happen if it came to a choice between him and Noelle. Twice, he had arranged for Paul Metaxas to take over Noelle's flight but shortly before each flight Demiris' secretary had telephoned to tell him that Mr. Demiris would like to have Larry pilot her himself.

  On an early morning in late November Larry received a call that he was to fly Noelle Page to Amsterdam that afternoon. Larry checked with the airport and received a negative report on the weather in Amsterdam. A fog was beginning to roll in and by afternoon they expected zero visibility. Larry phoned Demiris' secretary to tell her that it would be impossible to fly to Amsterdam that day. The secretary said she would get back to him. Fifteen minutes later she phoned to say that Miss Page would be at the airport at two o'clock, ready to take off. Larry checked with the airport again, thinking that perhaps there had been a break in the weather, but the report was the same.

  "Jesus Christ," Paul Metaxas exclaimed. "She must be in one hell of a hurry to get to Amsterdam."

  But Larry had the feeling that Amsterdam was not the issue. This was a contest of wills between the two of them. For all he cared Noelle Page could crash into a mountain peak and good riddance, but Larry was damned if he was going to risk his own neck for the stupid bitch. He tried to phone Demiris to discuss it with him, but he was in a meeting and unavailable. Larry slammed down the phone, seething. He had no choice now but to go to the airport and try to talk his passenger out of making the flight. He arrived at the airport at 1:30. By three o'clock Noelle Page had not appeared. "She probably changed her mind," Metaxas said.