by Pam Richter
He felt a tiny nip on his neck.
"I would never hurt you, Ivar."
Ivar felt his heart start to slow from its sudden gallop. Eve lay her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. "Big heart."
She didn't hurt him at all. Quite the contrary.
Later, as Ivar was going to sleep, he realized he did not want to lose this woman. The surprising thought startled him awake, until he consciously made his breathing slow down to match the rhythm of the deep, even breaths beneath his arm.
CHAPTER 20
Even winning a karate match couldn't put Hashimoto in a good mood this morning. He was wasting time in Los Angeles, accomplishing nothing because Dr. Steinbrenner had a stroke and the Miller women were not responding to his calls.
Sato bathed in a steaming tub of water. His assistant came in the vaporous bathroom and handed Sato a towel, then gave him pictures of the Miller women. He clicked his tongue, musing over the photograph of Eve savagely biting a man in the neck.
He had been searching for some kind of weakness that he could use to his advantage. As he shuffled through the pictures he saw several of the women laughing together; a brunette and a redhead. The sisters were obviously very close. If he could separate them he might be able to exert some control. The dark woman was obviously ferocious and very strong.
The pictures he contemplated that had been taken the next day, showed both women with identical coiffures in the exact same shade of blond. They were obviously identical twins. After he got them to Japan and they understood his enormous influence and wealth, he would let the one who did not possess a computer understand what an advantage it would be to become mistress of a powerful man such as himself.
Sato lolled in the bathtub and bade his assistant call Cedars Sinai hospital to inquire solicitously about Dr. Steinbrenner. The news was disheartening. The doctor was in stable condition but unable to communicate, which meant that Sato had no choice but to go to the meeting arranged by Alexander Steinbrenner. In the meantime he would try to use the day advantageously. He only had this one day to conspire behind the backs of the Steinbrenner brothers.
* * * * *
Mark had noted the strain Sabrina had been feeling the evening before and thought that Eve's call, so late, waking them practically in the middle of the night, was very rude. She should have called earlier. Sabrina had really been upset. This morning Sabrina still seemed preoccupied and tense, obviously waiting for Eve to come back. He was a little irritated that Sabrina was only picking at the cheese and onion omelette he had so carefully prepared. Actually, he realized he was more than a little irritated.
Eve. Eve. Eve. That was all he ever heard about. Eve and her designs. How worried Sabrina was about her relationship with Ivar, the spy. And Eve and her feat: saving them both from the Russian kidnapper.
Mark didn't really want to believe that Eve's behavior was slutty, because she was supposed to be an exact duplicate of Sabrina, but what could one think of such conduct? The woman, or computer or whatever she was, seemed to do exactly as she pleased, and Mark was irritated that Sabrina seemed utterly entranced.
Mark saw Sabrina's face brighten when she heard three knocks on the door. He watched with irritation as she ran out of the kitchen, napkin still in hand.
Mark was a little disconcerted when the two entered the kitchen. Now that Eve had blond hair that matched Sabrina's, he could hardly tell them apart himself. He had to amend that thought, and found it frightening to realize that he really could not tell which was which. Even their voices and mannerisms were identical. He looked for the tiny wrinkles on Sabrina's face and couldn't see any. Eve looked exactly like Sabrina—the living image—plus a computer. Mark listened to Eve's voice to see if he could detect any differences in speech or intonation.
"I told Ivar he had a big heart, but I don't know if he understood. I meant he was warm and kind, but I think he thought I commenting on the physical size of the organ."
"Men never understand anything," Sabrina said, laughing.
"Hi Mark," Eve said, smiling at him in what he thought of as a perfectly normal way. She sat down at the table.
"Hi."
"Did you eat breakfast?" Sabrina asked Eve.
"Yes. I restrained myself."
"Take mine, I'm not hungry," Sabrina pushed the omelette over to Eve.
Sure, Mark thought to himself, irritably. Go ahead. Give Eve the breakfast I made for you.
Eve started using Sabrina's utensils as though she did it every day. "But I behaved very badly."
Ah ha, Mark thought.
"What happened?" Sabrina asked.
"Well, Ivar made this appetizer of caviar on toast. You eat it with peppered Russian vodka. I knew that you're supposed to take the vodka all in one gulp. So I did."
"Oh, no," Sabrina was smiling.
"I got drunk and threw up."
The two women were behaving hysterically, Mark thought, watching Sabrina wipe tears of laughter out of her eyes.
"He was very nice when I wasted his special foods. He held my head and patted me as I regurgitated into the kitchen sink."
Sabrina started laughing all over again, as though throwing up in someone's sink was funny.
"But I never want to do that again," Eve was saying. "The body did not obey me. I tried to make Ivar toast with caviar and almost dropped it on the floor."
So much for Eve's social conduct, Mark thought.
"But I really love Ivar," Eve said, and Mark saw her face light up with a radiant smile. "He is kind and generous and very funny. He made me a wonderful dinner, too."
"But Eve, you have so little experience with men..."
"Oh, I have all your memories, so I'm real experienced."
Great, Mark thought. He was chagrined that Eve must know about their most intimate moments together, which he regarded as sacrosanct.
"Then you don't trust men at all," Sabrina said, smiling and glancing at Mark. He smiled and winked back, but didn't like it much.
"I trust Ivar. I'm just like you—a One-Man-Woman," Eve said, enunciating slowly and smiling at each of them in turn.
Sabrina got up hurriedly and started clearing the kitchen table, banging dishes and generally making a lot of noise. Mark wondered what Eve meant about a one-man-woman. Certainly Sabrina went out with other men. She had no compunction about letting him know about it, either. Also, Eve thought that Sabrina was very experienced, which meant that Sabrina had lots of lovers in the past, didn't it?
Mark had gone out with other women too, but it was more to be convinced of his own feelings for Sabrina than anything else. Of course he was attracted to other women. Sabrina didn't understand that innocent carnal attractions, just superficial sexual curiosity and interest, were natural for men. He was not interested in spending time with any other woman. He had occasional fantasies. It was natural and normal.
"The thing especially nice about Ivar is that he knows I'm different, and still likes me. And he's wonderful in bed, like Mark is with you."
What! She did know everything. But she said it was wonderful, which must mean Sabrina thought so, or Eve wouldn't have known. Still...
He watched Sabrina's back. She was banging things around again and not saying a word, splashing the kitchen floor with dishwater she was moving so fast.
Mark watched Eve go the refrigerator and take out a bottle of syrup, taking swigs while she dried the dishes.
"He knows I'm stronger than him, and it doesn't seem to bother him. I think he knows I have a computer. He even saw me bite that Russian agent. "
"You bit the Russian agent?" Mark said, feeling his own eyes open wide at the distasteful thought.
Mark watched the two women exchange glances like they were having some sort of nonverbal communication.
"Yes, Mark. I was afraid he would shoot Sabrina. It tasted foul."
Sabrina had lied to him to protect Eve. And he had been right all along. Eve must be capable of anything if she would bite a person. Mark thoug
ht back to the night he had entertained fantasies that she might attack him and Sabrina in their sleep for more raw meat. At least now he knew Eve didn't like the taste of human blood.
On the other hand, to be fair, Eve had bitten a man to protect Sabrina, and he couldn't fault her for that. Still, he was grossly repelled.
"I didn't want to shock you," Sabrina said, not quite meeting his eyes. She sounded apologetic.
Mark nodded. "I have to go to work." They would probably be happy to be alone and discuss whatever it is that women discuss.
Sabrina walked Mark to the door and kissed him good-by.
"She said it was wonderful?" Mark asked. He wanted to know the truth and looked into her eyes.
"Of course it is," Sabrina said, looking surprised.
At least it was something, Mark thought as he went out the door.
Sabrina could hear Eve in the shower, so she went back into the kitchen and finished cleaning up. She wondered why Mark had asked about their sex life. Didn't he know? Or didn't he feel it was absolutely wonderful, too? She decided she would have to ask him, but didn't really know how to go about it. After three whole years, if he didn't know how she felt about him and their relationship, how could she bring up the subject?
Maybe she had been wrong to make that crack about not trusting men, but Sabrina really didn't trust them. Her own mother had died in childbirth, and where was the father? He had evidently gotten her mother pregnant and then absconded. And then, at sixteen, Sabrina had thought she was madly in love with Tracy Rieber, who had acted so warm and tender with her, until she had found him in a compromising situation, his bed and unclothed, with another model.
Maybe she was being unfair with Mark, but she thought that after three years, if he didn't want a secure relationship with her, she should look elsewhere. Except she didn't want anyone but Mark and she was afraid to push him in the matter of marriage. The man should be the one to ask, and since Mark hadn't, Sabrina had let the relationship drift on and on. And maybe Mark never had any intention of getting married. Maybe he wanted to remain a perpetual bachelor and was just using her for the time being. He would discard her, as in her early experience with the foster families. It was an awful thought because Sabrina had always wanted a family and children so badly, but she would have to get used to it.
Sabrina's speculations were interrupted by the telephone and she automatically picked it up, and then almost put it down again, afraid it might be Sato Hashimoto.
"Hello? Hello?" The voice was harsh and angry sounding. "Is anyone there?"
"Hello?" Sabrina said.
"I want to speak to that damn fucking machine. The computer."
Sabrina stood still in shocked surprise, pulling the receiver away from her ear. "Who is this?"
"Alexander Steinbrenner, you fucking bitch. Now get that computer on the phone."
Sabrina was suddenly furious. Angry that Alexander would call her a bitch. Furious that he had called Eve a fucking machine. Still hurt and angry about her thoughts of all the men in her life, and especially at Mark for not marrying her. She hung up.
Sabrina went into the bathroom where Eve was brushing her hair. Eve looked at her. "I'm ready to go. Should I go lie down in the back of the car?"
"Not yet. Alexander Steinbrenner just called and he's raging about something."
The phone rang.
They went into the bedroom and let the phone ring a few times. Sabrina told Eve not to be shocked at Alexander's language.
Sabrina picked up the phone, and after listening to the flow of obscenities, told Alexander that Eve was a fully live human person, and that he should watch his behavior when speaking to ladies. She handed the phone to Eve.
Sabrina watched Eve listening to whatever Alexander was saying and wondered what the tirade was about. She could hear him shouting. Eve had suddenly started crying.
"I'm very sorry about your father, Alexander," Eve said. "But what you say is not reasonable. I didn't cause his cerebral vascular accident."
Ferd Steinbrenner had a stroke? Sabrina felt sudden profound sadness for a man she hardly knew, and had at one time considered just another man using her, in this instance, to make Eve. She watched Eve's tears flow down her cheeks, even as she spoke calmly to Alexander.
"And I certainly didn't cause your brother to be shot. The man who shot your brother is a Russian spy. You must get your facts straight and use some simple logic, Alexander. Although I understand why you are very emotional."
Sabrina heard some more shouting and then the sound of a phone being pounded down on the other end of the telephone line.
"What did he say?" Sabrina asked.
"He said I fucking better be at that meeting with Hashimoto, or he wouldn't give me the goddamned identification papers. Or the fucking bank card for five hundred thousand dollars. He said if I didn't agree to go to Tokyo and work for Mr. Hashimoto, I could piss up a rope for all the bloody help he would ever give me again."
"You aren't going to talk like that now?"
"I was repeating what he said."
"Five hundred thousand?"
"Yes."
"Wow," Sabrina said. "What do you think you should do?"
"Get the money and identification and leave the country."
"If you don't go to the meeting you won't get either. He's threatening you. And where would you go?"
"I don't know. But I can't leave when you aren't safe. Not when Ferd is so sick. And I don't want to leave Ivar Cousin."
What a mess, Sabrina thought. As for not trusting men, Alexander Steinbrenner was right at the top of her list. He might be lying about having identification and a bank account for Eve. Maybe the Steinbrenner brothers and that Japanese man would try to kidnap Eve when they had the meeting.
Sabrina thought they should get a gun and then remembered the one Eve had taken from the Russian agent. They had hidden it on the top shelf of her closet. She would be sure to take it to the meeting. Eve's strength couldn't be a match for a whole bunch of men.
CHAPTER 21
When Sato Hashimoto walked into Sabrina's Fashions, a chubby woman with short, glowing red hair was waiting on many customers. Hashimoto pretended to be looking around and the small woman finally walked up, smiling, and asked if she could help him.
Hashimoto said yes, something for his wife, although he knew his wife would never wear anything without the proper Parisian designer labels. In that regard his wife was a snob, but he had mistresses who were not so choosy and who would expect presents. Hashimoto had to admit that the Miller woman had talent, surprisingly, or at least very good taste. When he asked the woman with the day-glow hair if the owner had designed some of the clothing, she said that Sabrina Miller had designed everything in the shop.
Bea didn't realize she was being pumped for information because she was so delighted at the amount of the Japanese man's purchases.
He said he would like to meet the talented woman who had designed such beautiful apparel and Bea told him that he could sit down and wait while she wrapped his packages. Sabrina had gone to the hospital to see a sick friend.
As Hashimoto looked around, he was reminded of his mistress Suki. She was his favorite and had pleaded with him for a florist shop or a little dress shop of her own. He had always dismissed the idea, but he suddenly thought of a way to give Suki what she wanted and get both Eve and Sabrina to Japan.
As Hashimoto waited he pondered the new information that Willard Modert had provided him that morning. Hashimoto had transferred a large amount of money into a numbered Swiss account before the documents had been faxed to him, and again, they looked like they were genuine top secret files from the CIA, but the contents were quite remarkable.
The handcuffs that one of the women had broken was being studied in a laboratory. The initial results were that the blood on the cuffs was that of Sabrina Miller, from her physician's records. The handcuffs themselves were made of tempered steel, standard issue commonly supplied to police departments
. There did not seem to be any defect in the material or workmanship, which pointed to the fact that the initial report by Alexander Steinbrenner, which stated that along with the computer came enormous strength, might possibly be true.
Hashimoto was a very impatient person, and he considered it a virtue. He abominated the fact that he would have to have a wait-and-see attitude as he watched his packages being decorated with paper and bows. He also felt that he had spent an immense amount of time and money on what could turn out to be a gigantic hoax. That thought made him enormously angry.
* * * * *
Sabrina and Eve had tried to bypass hospital authorities and sneak directly to Ferd's hospital room. The plan didn't work. They were stopped at the nursing station in the intensive care ward. There seemed to be an unusual amount of security people around that desk and they were asked to sign a register stating they had come to visit Dr. Steinbrenner. The staff said it was routine, but Sabrina had never heard of such a procedure.
They were just giving the flowers that Sabrina had brought for Ferd to the floor duty nurse, when Alexander Steinbrenner went past, not noticing them in his haste, manipulating his crutches with practiced ease.
Sabrina called out to him. Alexander turned around and scowled. He made an abrupt motion with his head, arrogantly indicating that he would speak to them in the lounge area, away from the watchful nurses. They all sat down. Alexander sat with his broken leg sticking straight out in front of him, resting it on the couch they were sitting on.
"How is Dr. Steinbrenner?" Eve asked Alexander.
"I'm not answering any questions until my brother gets here," Alexander said. He glared at the women. Sabrina thought he was trying to intimidate them as he gazed at them, one and then the other, without taking his eyes away for even a moment. Sabrina also felt uncomfortable at his proximity. The man was sitting too close and invading their space with his large presence and accusing eyes. Then she noted that Eve was looking directly back at Alexander without blinking. Sabrina was afraid Eve would give herself away, so she said she was very sorry about Ferd. Alexander just gawked at her, silently hostile, and did not comment. She wondered if he used this offensive hostile staring tactic on juries.
