Three furrows of concern appeared between Darrow’s brow. “What happened?”
Gainer told him.
“Perhaps it was some city nut taking a pot shot at just anyone,” Darrow said. “The city is full of them these days.”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
Gainer’s silence spoke for him.
Darrow added more silence to it, took a punctuating sip and told Leslie he was surprised they hadn’t met before. “Do you sail?”
“Where?”
“Penobscot, Hyannisport.”
“Not recently.”
“I believe I saw you once. As a matter of fact I’m certain. Not sailing, but at Parke-Bernet four or five years ago.”
“Possibly.”
“It was the night they sold a Turner for six million something, May of 1980, I believe. I bought a small Vuillard, nothing important. Actually my being there was more social than anything.”
Darrow was all charm for Leslie. So damn oily, Gainer thought.
“As I recall, you bid on a large Renoir.”
“Not me.”
Rodger, Gainer thought.
“And came within a hundred thousand of owning it,” Darrow went on. “Have you been to any of the recent sales?”
“Aren’t they closed for the summer?”
“Of course, but there’s important jewelry scheduled for sometime early in October. That should interest you.”
Leslie said it did.
“I have the advance catalogue if you’d care to look through it. On the condition, of course, that you promise not to bid against me for the things I’ve checked.”
“I break most of my promises,” Leslie said without a smile.
It seemed to Gainer that Darrow was trying to draw her out, open her up. Gainer was about to get back onto the subject of the reason they were there when Darrow beat him by saying to Leslie, “There’s a sapphire ring in that sale I particularly want.”
“A Burmese sapphire?”
“A Ceylon but exceptionally deep and bright. Just over twelve carats. It’s an older Tiffany stone.”
“How old?”
“Somewhere around 1920.”
“They’re best.”
“Sapphires,” Darrow confided, “are rising in value, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“As a result of the political situation in Southeast Asia. There used to be sapphire sales regularly in Rangoon but not anymore. The only sapphires getting out now are contraband.”
“Your advice, then, is to buy sapphires.”
“By all means, as many good ones as you can, and salt them … away. Rubies as well. But please, not that twelve carat stone I want.”
“You have my word.”
“Is there something wrong with your drink?” Darrow asked.
“A little heavy on the cassis for my taste,” Leslie told him.
Darrow apologized as though he had stepped on her toe. He signaled the barman for a replacement.
“Don’t bother.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer something else. Have you ever tried a Savannah Sneak?”
“Only twice,” Leslie said with a straight face.
It seemed a cue. The barman immediately brought a tray with all the necessary ingredients.
The bastard obviously had a set routine, Gainer thought. And part of it this time was to leave Gainer out in the cold by fastening on Leslie.
Darrow made the mixture of the drink into a ritual that at least he found entertaining. What he proceeded to put together was basically a mint julep in a large sterling goblet using sprigs of fresh mint and what he claimed was pure Chacham County Georgia well water. He muddled mint along with some sugar and water in the bottom of the goblet and all over its inner sides, packed the goblet with ice shaved so fine it looked like snow, then poured in nearly equal jiggers of cognac and peach brandy that seeped down through. He stuck a slice of fresh ripe peach in along the side, garnished it with a sprig of mint, inserted a silver straw and placed it in front of Leslie. “Best to let it sit and frost for a while,” he told her.
Within seconds the silver goblet was beaded wet and hazed.
Leslie took a sip. She took two more before commenting, pleasantly surprised, “Delightful.”
Gainer shook some salt into his beer to renew its head. He was feeling more and more excluded despite Leslie’s wink at him over the rim of the goblet. The whole thing had gotten off track from the start, was now way off. It wasn’t intended to be a social visit with all this overbred chitchat. He had the impression that any moment they’d be going out the front door, thanking Darrow for everything and perhaps even with Leslie and Darrow pecking one another on the cheek, for Christ’s sake.
Their topics now were people they knew and skiing places.
Gainer stopped trying to appear interested. He pushed his chair farther from the table, turned it at an angle and positioned another chair to put his feet up on. The largest cloud he saw was off to the south, shaped like an English sheep dog or a pig or a dead fat lady on her way to heaven, gradually wisping away. The swimming pool was unbelievable with its water that blue. The tennis court was deserted.
From where Gainer sat he could see the entire rear of the house, from its elaborate long terrace all the way to the brick wall that bordered the grounds. Between the two was entirely garden, not manicured and arranged in a pattern but an uncontrived-looking expanse of flowers like an English country garden. Different kinds were competing for space, foxglove and delphinium taller seeming to win out. The garden didn’t ring true either, was not really as untended as it was made to appear, Gainer thought. The whole place was a sort of setup.
His view took in the rear side of the house, all the way to the north wing. It struck him that there was something not right about that wing. A section of the second floor had no windows. Only ivy and wall. It contradicted the house. There should have been two windows up there to balance the two on the first floor. If he was Darrow he’d complain to one of the bosses, he thought, and allowed himself an inner smile.
Gainer’s mind was not really so far away. He fully heard the first sound of the first word when Darrow finally turned his way and asked: “What led you to believe we could help you Andrew?”
“It was the first thing that occurred to me, that’s all.”
“You just assumed.”
“Norma once told me if I ever had any heavy trouble, I should come to you.”
“When was that?”
“Years ago.” Gainer added a lie to a lie.
“I’m sorry, but I find that strange. She knew we prefer not to get involved in matters beyond our control.”
Which leaves very damn little, Gainer thought.
“What would you like us to do, Andrew?”
Cut the Andrew shit.
“Whatever you can,” Gainer said.
“All right, how much do you need?”
“Money won’t help.”
“It usually does.”
“This isn’t usual.”
“What then?”
“Maybe you can help me get it straight, so at least I know what I’m up against.”
Darrow was tempted to tell him: you are up against termination. You are up against your young balls rotting off. He did not like this young man. Never had. The few times they had met through Norma he’d thought Gainer a good-looking smartass, a sort of social chameleon, nouveau nice. Once when Norma had brought him to Number 19 to show him off, Darrow had caught Gainer’s eyes taking the measure of him, scouring him deep. Gainer had not taken his gaze away, and Darrow had thought that insolent. At the time, of course, such feelings had been momentary, insignificant. It was only recently that Darrow had brought them forward. Today Gainer had intensified them by coming here. All the worse, coming here with Mrs. Rodger Pickering.
Darrow put his hand on Gainer’s forearm, patted it. “Rest easy, Andrew. You’ll see now that we’re not just fair weather sorts. Mind you, I’m not al
together sure we can actually protect you, but we can certainly do our best. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Protection?”
“You might call it that.”
“You’ll have to cooperate.”
“He will,” Leslie put in, hoping Gainer understood why.
Darrow brought his hand to his chin, evidently deliberating. Actually he was wondering if Leslie had taken notice of his hands, gave her a long moment to do so. He fixed his eyes about two feet above Gainer’s head and told him: “I think perhaps what you should do, Andrew, is make this your home base, so to speak. At least for the time being. Come and go as freely as you feel appropriate. Here, or wherever, I promise you will be … how shall I say? … watched over. How does that suit you?”
“Couldn’t ask for more.”
“Then that’s settled. We’ll have accommodations made ready at once.”
“What about me?” Leslie asked.
The very words Darrow had expected. He registered mild surprise. “You’ll be staying on as well, Mrs. Pickering?”
“Coming and going.”
“You’re most welcome, of course. Would you prefer a room with early morning sun?”
“It doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s adjoining.”
Mrs. Pickering, Gainer thought. He hadn’t introduced her as a Mrs.
She drew on her silver straw and caused the little popping sounds of bottom-empty. “I’d like another Savannah Sneak,” she said.
Darrow constructed another but this time lighter on the flourish. As he placed the drink in front of Leslie he glanced toward the house, saw Hine just inside the open french doors gesturing discreetly. Darrow got up and went in.
“What the hell was all that?” Gainer asked, keeping his teeth together.
“All what?”
“You and Darrow and all that social register chumsy crap.”
“It helped.”
“Yeah?”
“My intuition tells me it helped.”
Daniel, Gainer thought, in the lions’ den.
Leslie gave up the straw, swigged Savannah Sneak from the goblet, buried the tip of her nose in the shaved ice. Her nose and ears were flushed, Gainer noticed, and thought she should stick to red zinger.
“You didn’t really want to stay here alone.”
Gainer admitted he didn’t.
“Tell you what,” she said, trying to sound up, “let’s cancel out the thought that someone tried to kill you—”
“Easy said—”
“Hey, I’m at stake too, you know. If anything like that happened to you, it’s almost a sure thing I’d kill myself—”
“Don’t talk about it.”
“Exactly. Let’s go at it here as though we’re on holiday at some five hundred dollar a day swell place. Swim a lot, play tennis, caviar them to death.”
He had to laugh a little, despite everything. For all he knew, his beer might have contained a slow undetectable poison. His mind jumped from death to life: the appreciation of Leslie’s left leg, her exposed toes and all the way up to where the slit in her dress was as parted as it could be, and ridden up higher because she was seated. He could see where her thigh and buttock made transition. He’d been over every millimeter of that leg every imaginable way, he thought. The idea of not ever being able to again caused what felt like an emotional collision inside him, all drives in him hitting head-on.
“You’re terrific when you’re jealous,” she said.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Your eyes get all broody, greener, very attractive.”
“When was I ever jealous?”
“Three or four minutes ago.”
“You read me wrong.”
“Possibly, but I think not. You know, Darrow doesn’t seem so dangerous, more like another well-bred old bore—”
“Your intuition needs a major tune-up.” Gainer reached for his glass and accidently tipped it over.
Leslie sighed. “Such a heavy number, jealousy. I’m glad I’m never burdened by it.” She worked her eyelashes some to let him know she wasn’t a serious hypocrite.
He leaned across.
She leaned across.
Their kiss made them both realize they hadn’t kissed since the night before.
When they opened their eyes, Darrow was standing beside the table. “Everything has been arranged.”
“I’m going to drive back into town for some essentials,” Leslie said, and asked Gainer, “How about you?”
Gainer decided he’d better not, not yet.
“Okay, I’ll also pick up a few of your things. Anything special?”
“Old shoes and People Paste.”
Darrow wondered if that was some sort of code.
“Leave everything to me. I won’t be long.” She seemed to bless him with her smile before she departed.
She would, as usual, Gainer thought, not let up a single mile per hour at the toll stations, would streak right through the gate kept open for those cars bearing special parkway toll plates, which she didn’t have. He should have told her he loved her before she went. He had promised himself, since Norma, never to leave it unsaid again.
“Exceptional woman, Mrs. Pickering,” Darrow was saying. “One of the world’s great beauties, in my estimation.”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose you’ve met her husband.”
“Not directly.”
Ambiguities annoyed Darrow. “Come with me,” he said brusquely, and led the way into the house to his study.
Hine was there.
Darrow didn’t sit behind his desk. Casually imperious, he half sat on a front corner of it, his right haunch taking most of his weight. After a pause he said: “Favor for favor is fair, don’t you agree Andrew?”
“I guess.”
“It so happens at this moment we are short-handed.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Fill in for Norma.”
Gainer’s heart jumped.
“One carry, two at most.”
“Let me think about it.”
“By all means, think about it.”
Gainer didn’t like the italicized sound of that. “When am I supposed to go?”
“You’re on the two o’clock from Kennedy to Zurich. That’s correct, isn’t it Hine?”
“Two o’clock,” Hine said.
“Today?” Gainer asked.
Darrow’s nod was just barely discernible.
“Hell, I don’t even have a toothbrush.”
“You will.”
“I’m supposed to go dressed like this?” Gainer lifted a trouser leg to show his best shoes but no socks.
“You won’t. There’ll be a bag containing appropriate things of yours handed over to you at Kennedy. Including a passport.”
That meant the shits had been into his apartment or were there now. The pair of locks on his door were probably no more than toys to them. Gainer especially resented their doing that, putting hands on his personal things. He thought of Alma’s love letters in the top drawer where he also kept his passport. Somehow the letters were more vulnerable than anything. They didn’t deserve to be sullied.
Sweet entered the study bearing a man’s suitcase, a thirty-incher, an all leather one that apparently had endured its share of travel. It had a red and white tag attached to the handle. Sweet placed the bag within Gainer’s reach.
What, Gainer wondered, would happen if he refused to go, just said he didn’t want to, wouldn’t? The carry was very possibly—surely?—a way of setting him up, certainly it had been invented within the last hour. Still, for his reasons, not theirs, he’d go along with it.
“How much is in there?” Gainer asked.
“Three million,” Darrow told him.
“Not two or two and a half? You’re sure?”
Darrow looked to Hine, who deferred to Sweet, who held up three fingers.
“Three exactly,” Darrow said.
Gainer made a dubious face.
“Take
my word for it,” Darrow advised.
“No.” Gainer insisted the suitcase be opened.
The neatly packed hundreds were there.
“We’re not going to count it for you,” Darrow said, betraying some annoyance.
Gainer grinned. “I didn’t figure you’d even open it. Okay. When I get to Zurich, then what?”
As soon as Gainer had gone off to the airport, Darrow phoned Hunsicker at Intelco in New York. He told him he wanted his most recent order changed.
Hunsicker begged pardon, said he did not know what Darrow was referring to.
Darrow realized Hunsicker was keeping to the strict line, going by the book. Such business was never supposed to be handled by telephone, no matter how cryptically. However, Darrow reasoned, in this instance it was such an uncomplicated thing there could be no misunderstanding, nor was it possible that anyone listening might know what it was about. He got on with it, told Hunsicker he did not want to cancel the order, merely hold off on it until he gave word otherwise.
Hunsicker suggested Darrow meet with him to clarify the situation.
Darrow was in no mood for a sit-down with Hunsicker, but if it had to be … “All right, when shall I expect you?”
“I’ll be up there next week, Wednesday or Thursday.”
“I want you up here this afternoon.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“I have another appointment here an hour from now, and later in the day I’m off to Los Angeles.”
“This is important,” Darrow said impatiently.
“Then I suggest you come here to my office. I’ll make time.”
Darrow was so furious he very softly and precisely placed the telephone receiver on its cradle. Of all the gall. He shouldn’t have to go across the room to accommodate someone on Hunsicker’s level. The man was being purposely difficult, sticking so narrowly to an irrelevant rule.
The rule, screw the rules—
The word seemed to hang in the air around him, and brought him up short. He reprimanded himself for having such a risky attitude, even for a moment. Hunsicker was right.
As if in retribution, Darrow reviewed the rules that pertained to orders, mentally recited them.
May only be issued verbally, person-to-person.
May only be cancelled or revised by the initiating party, verbally, person-to-person.
19 Purchase Street Page 29
