"Yes, honey?"
"I heard you talking downstairs. Is Jack here?"
Gia hesitated, but could see no way to get out of telling her. .
"Yes. But I want you to lie there and go back to—"
Too late. Vicky was out of bed and running for the hall.
"Jack-Jack-Jack!"
He had her up in his arms and she was hugging him by the time Gia reached the hall.
"Hiya, Vicks."
"Oh, Jack, I'm so glad you're here! I was so scared before."
"So I heard. Your mommy said you had a bad dream."
As Vicky launched into her account of Mr. Grape-grabber's plots against Ms. Jelliroll, Gia marveled again at the rapport between Jack and her daughter. They were like old friends. At a time like this she sorely wished Jack were a different sort of man. Vicky so needed a father. But not one whose work required guns and knives.
Jack held his hand out to Gia for the doll. Mr. Grape-grabber was made of plastic; a lean, wiry fellow with long arms and legs, entirely purple but for his face and a black top hat. Jack studied the doll.
"He does sort of look like Snidely Whiplash. Put a crow on his shoulder and he'd be Will Eisner's Mr. Carrion." He held the doll up to Vicky. "Is this the guy you thought you saw outside?"
"Yes," Vicky said, nodding. "Only he wasn't wearing his hat."
"What was he wearing?"
"I couldn't see. All I could see was his eyes. They were yellow."
Jack started violently, almost dropping Vicky. Gia instinctively reached out a hand to catch her daughter in case she fell.
"Jack, what's the matter?"
He smiled—weakly, she thought.
"Nothing. Just a spasm in my arm from playing tennis. Gone now." He looked at Vicky. "But about those eyes—it must have been a cat you saw. Mr. Grape-grabber doesn't have yellow eyes."
Vicky nodded vigorously. "He did tonight. So did the other one."
Gia was watching Jack and could swear a sick look passed over his face. It worried her because it was not an expression she ever expected to see there.
"Other one?" he said.
"Uh-huh. Mr. Grape-grabber must have brought along a helper."
Jack was silent a moment, then he hefted Vicky in his arms and carried her back into the bedroom.
"Time for sleep, Vicks. I'll see you in the morning."
Vicky made some half-hearted protests as he left the bedroom, then rolled over and lay quiet as soon as Gia tucked her in.
Jack was nowhere in sight when Gia returned to the hall. She found him downstairs in the walnut paneled library, working on the alarm box with a tiny screwdriver.
"What are you doing?"
"Reconnecting the upper floors. This should have been done right after Grace disappeared. There! Now no one gets in or out without raising Cain."
Gia could tell he was hiding something from her.
"What do you know?"
"Nothing." He continued to study the insides of the box. "Nothing that makes any sense, anyway."
That wasn't what Gia wanted to hear. She wanted someone—anyone—to make some sense out of what had happened here this past week. Something Vicky said had disturbed Jack.
"Maybe it will make sense to me."
"I doubt it."
Gia flared into anger. "I'll be the judge of that! Vicky and I have been here most of the week and we'll probably have to stay here a few more days in case there's any word from Nellie. If you've got any information about what's going on here, I want to hear it!"
Jack looked at her for the first time since she’d entered the room.
"Okay. Here it is: There's been a rotten smell that has come and gone in my apartment for the last two nights. And last night I saw two sets of yellow eyes looking in the window of my TV room."
"But Jack…you're on the third floor!"
"They were there."
Gia felt something twist inside her. She sat down on the settee and shivered.
"God! That gives me the creeps!"
"It had to be cats."
Gia looked at him and knew that he didn't believe that. She pulled her robe more tightly about her. She wished she hadn't demanded to know what he was thinking, and wished even more that he hadn't told her.
"Right," she said, playing along with the game. "Cats. Had to be."
Jack stretched and yawned—like a big cat—as he moved toward the center of the room. "It's late and I'm tired. Think it'd be all right if I spent the night?"
Gia bottled a sudden gush of relief to keep it from showing on her face.
"I suppose so."
"Good." He settled into Nellie's recliner and pushed it all the way back. "I'll just bed down here while you go up with Vicky."
He turned on the reading lamp next to the chair and reached for a magazine from the pile next to the dish full of the Black Magic chocolates. Gia felt a lump swell in her throat at the thought of Nellie's childlike glee at receiving that box of candy.
"Need a blanket?"
"No. I'm fine. I'll just read for a little while. Good night."
Gia rose and walked toward the door.
"Good night."
Leaving Jack in a pool of light in the center of the darkened room, she hurried up to Vicky's side and snuggled against her, hunting sleep. But despite the quiet and the knowledge that Jack was on guard downstairs, sleep never came.
Jack...he’d come when needed and had single-handedly accomplished what the New York Police Department had been unable to do: Made her feel safe tonight. Without him she would have spent the remaining hours till daylight in a shuddering panic.
She fought a growing urge to be with him, but found herself losing. Vicky breathed slowly and rhythmically at her side. She was safe. They all were safe now that the alarm system was working again.
Gia slipped out of bed and stole downstairs, taking a lightweight summer blanket with her. She hesitated at the door to the library. What if he rejected her? She’d been so cold to him...what if he...?
Only one way to find out.
She stepped inside the door and found Jack looking at her. He must have heard her come down.
"Sure you don't need a blanket?" she asked.
His expression was serious. "I could use someone to share it with me."
Her mouth dry, Gia went to the chair and stretched herself alongside Jack; he spread the blanket over both of them. Neither spoke. There was nothing to say, at least for her. All she could do was lie beside him and contain the hunger within her.
After an eternity, Jack lifted her chin and kissed her. It must have taken as much courage to do that as it had taken her to come down to him. Gia let herself respond, releasing all her pent-up need. She pulled at his clothes, he lifted her nightgown, and then nothing separated them. She clung to him as if to keep him from being torn away from her. This was it, this was what she needed, this was what had been missing from her life.
God help her, this was the man she wanted.
16
Jack lay back in the recliner and tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Gia had taken him completely by surprise tonight. They’d made love twice—furiously the first time, more leisurely the second—and now he was alone, more satisfied and content than he could ever remember. For all her knowledge and inventiveness and seemingly inexhaustible passion, Kolabati hadn't left him feeling like this. This was special. He’d always known that he and Gia belonged together. Tonight proved it. There had to be a way for them to get back together and stay that way.
After a long time of drowsy, sated snuggling, Gia had gone back upstairs, saying she didn't want Vicky to find them both down here in the morning. She’d been warm, loving, passionate...everything she hadn't been the past few months. It baffled him, but he wasn't fighting it. He must have done something right. Whatever it was, he wanted to keep doing it.
The change in Gia wasn't all that was keeping him awake, though. The events of the night had sent a confusion of facts, theories, guesses, impressions, a
nd fears whirling through his mind.
Vicky's description of the yellow eyes…until then he’d almost been able to convince himself that the eyes outside his window had been some sort of illusion. But first had come Gia's casual mention of the putrid smell in Nellie's room—the same odor that had invaded his apartment? Then the mention of the eyes. The two phenomena together on two different nights in two different locations could not be mere coincidence.
A link existed between what had happened last night at his apartment and Nellie's disappearance tonight, but Jack was damned if he knew what it was. He’d been disappointed when he could not find any of the herbal liquid he’d found in Grace's room last week. He couldn't say how, but he was sure the odor, the eyes, the liquid, and the disappearances of the two old women were connected.
Idly, he picked up a piece of chocolate from the candy dish beside his chair. He wasn't hungry, but he wouldn't mind something sweet right now. Trouble with these things was you never knew what was inside. He could use the old thumb-puncture-on-the-bottom trick, but that didn't seem right on a missing person's candy. He dropped it back in the bowl and returned to his musings.
Jack reached down and checked the position of the little Semmerling where he’d squeezed it and its ankle holster between the seat cushion and armrest of the recliner. It was still handy. He closed his eyes and thought of eyes...yellow eyes...
And then it struck him—the thought that had eluded him last night. Those eyes...yellow with dark pupils...why they’d seemed vaguely familiar to him: They resembled the pair of black-centered topazes on the necklaces worn by Kolabati and Kusum and the one he’d retrieved for their grandmother!
He should have seen it before! Those two yellow stones had been staring at him for days, just as the eyes had stared at him last night.
His spirits rose slightly. He didn't know what the resemblance meant, but now he had a link between the Bahktis and the eyes, and perhaps the disappearance of Grace and Nellie. It might well turn out to be pure coincidence, but at least he had a path to follow.
Jack knew what he'd be doing in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Monday
1
Gia watched Jack and Vicky playing with their breakfasts. Vicky had been up at dawn and delighted to find Jack asleep in the library. Before long she had her mother up and making breakfast for them.
As soon as they were all seated Vicky had begun a chant: "We want Moony! We want Moony!" So Jack had dutifully borrowed Gia's lipstick and a felt-tipped pen and drawn a face, Señor Wences-style, on his left hand. The hand then became a very rude, boisterous entity known as Moony. Jack was presently screeching in a falsetto voice as Vicky stuffed Cheerios into Moony's mouth. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Vicky had such a good laugh, an unselfconscious belly laugh from the very heart of her being. Gia loved to hear it and was in turn laughing at Vicky.
When was the last time she and Vicky had laughed at breakfast?
"Okay. That's enough for now," Jack said at last. "Moony's got to rest and I've got to eat." He went to the sink to wash Moony away.
"Isn't Jack funny, mom?" Vicky said, her eyes bright. "Isn't he the funniest?"
As Gia replied, Jack turned around at the sink and mouthed her words in perfect synchronization: "He's a riot, Vicky."
Gia threw her napkin at him. "Sit down and eat."
She watched Jack finish off the eggs she’d fried for him. There was happiness at this table, even after Vicky's nightmare and Nellie's disappearance—Vicky hadn't been told yet. Gia had a warm, contented feeling inside. Last night had been so good. She didn't understand what had come over her, but was glad she’d given in to it. She didn't know what it meant...maybe a new beginning...maybe nothing. If only she could go on feeling this way. If only...
"Jack," she said slowly, not knowing how she was going to phrase this, "have you ever thought of switching jobs?"
"All the time. And I will—or at least get out of this one."
A small spark of hope ignited in her. "When?"
"Don't know," he said with a shrug. "I know I can't do it forever, but..." He shrugged again, obviously uncomfortable with the subject.
"But what?"
"It's what I do. I know it’s a cliché, but I don't know how to say it any better than that. It's what I do and I do it pretty well. So I want to keep on doing it."
"You like it."
"Yeah," he said, concentrating on the last of his eggs. "I like it."
The growing spark winked out as the old resentment returned with an icy blast. For want of something to do with her hands, Gia got up and began clearing the table. Why bother? she thought. The man's a hopeless case.
And so, breakfast ended on a tense note.
Afterward, Jack caught her alone in the hallway.
"I think you ought to get out of here and back to your own place."
Gia would have liked nothing better. "I can't. What about Nellie? I don't want her to come back to an empty house."
"Eunice will be here."
"I don't know that and neither do you. With Nellie and Grace gone, she's officially unemployed. She may not want to stay here alone, and I can't say I'd blame her."
Jack scratched his head. "I guess you're right. But I don't like the idea of you and Vicks here alone, either."
"We can take care of ourselves," she said, refusing to acknowledge his concern. "You do your part and we'll do ours.”
Jack's mouth tightened. "Fine. Just fine. What was last night, then? Just a roll in the hay?"
"Maybe. It could have meant something, but I guess nothing's changed, not you, not me. You're the same Jack I left, and I still can't accept what you do. And you are what you do."
He walked out.
Why do I keep doing this? she thought. She shook her head as she remembered Jack’s words. Maybe it’s what I do.
The house suddenly seemed enormous and ominous. She hoped Eunice would show up soon.
2
A day in the life of Kusum Bahkti...
Jack had buried the hurt of his most recent parting with Gia and attacked the task of learning all he could about how Kusum spent his days. It had come down to a choice between tailing Kusum or Kolabati, but Kolabati was just a visitor from Washington, so Kusum won.
Jack’s first stop after leaving Sutton Square had been his apartment where he’d called Kusum's number. Kolabati had answered and they'd had a brief conversation during which he learned that Kusum could probably be found either at the consulate or the UN. Jack had also managed to wrangle the apartment address out of her. He might need that later. He called the Indian Consulate and learned that Mr. Bahkti was expected to be at the UN all day.
And so he stood in line in the General Assembly Building of the United Nations and waited for the tour to start. The morning sun stung the sunburned nose and forearms he’d acquired yesterday on the tennis courts in Jersey. He knew nothing about the UN. Most people he knew in Manhattan had never been here unless it was to show a visiting friend or relative.
He wore dark glasses, a dark blue Izod buttoned up to the neck, an "I ? NY" button pinned to his breast pocket, light blue Bermudas, knee-high black socks and sandals. He’d slung a Kodak disposable camera and a pair of binoculars around his neck. Figured his best bet was to look like a tourist.
The tombstonelike Secretariat Building was off limits to the public. An iron fence surrounded it and guards checked IDs at all the gates. In the General Assembly Building there were airport-style metal detectors. Jack had reluctantly resigned himself to being an unarmed tourist for the day.
The tour began. As they moved through the halls the guide gave them a brief history and a glowing description of the accomplishments and the future goals of the United Nations. Jack only half listened. He kept remembering a remark he’d once heard that if all the diplomats were kicked out, the UN could be turned into the finest bordello in the world and do just as much, if not more, for international harmony.
He suffered through endless discussions that he was sure he’d heard a thousand times. Every dinky little country, most unknown to him, had to have its say and usually it said the same thing as the dinky little country before it. Jack finally turned off his headphones. But he kept his binoculars trained on the area around the Indian delegation's table. So far he’d seen no sign of Kusum.
He was just about to nod off when Kusum finally appeared. He walked in with a dignified, businesslike stride and handed a sheaf of papers to the chief delegate, then seated himself in one of the chairs to the rear.
Jack watched through the glasses as Kusum exchanged a few words with the other diplomat seated near him, but for the most part kept to himself. He seemed aloof, preoccupied, almost as if he were under some sort of strain, fidgeting in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs, tapping his toes, glancing repeatedly at the clock; the picture of a man with something on his mind, a man who wanted to be somewhere else.
Jack sensed he’d be leaving soon.
He left Kusum sitting in the General Assembly and went out to the UN Plaza. A brief reconnaissance revealed the location of the diplomats' private parking lot in front of the Secretariat. Jack fixed the image of the Indian flag in his mind, then found a shady spot across the street that afforded a clear view of the exit ramp.
3
It took most of the afternoon. Jack's eyes burned after hours of being trained on the diplomat lot. If he hadn't happened to glance across the Plaza toward the General Assembly Building at a quarter to four, he might have spent half the night waiting for Kusum. For there he was, looking like a mirage as he walked through the shimmering heat rising from the sun-baked concrete. For some reason, perhaps because he was leaving before the session was through, Kusum had bypassed an official car and was walking to the curb. He hailed a cab and got in.
The Tomb (Repairman Jack) Page 25
