Money for Nothing

by Donald E. Westlake

  “The gang's all here,” Josh said, shutting the door.

  Surprised, Levrin put his magazine and pencil down and said, “Not at all.”

  Leaning toward Levrin, Tina murmured, “It is an idiom.”

  “Oh, damn. Another. Well, come in, Josh, how was your workday? Do have a seat. It is, after all, your own living room.”

  Josh looked around. “Where?”

  Levrin abruptly barked at the thugs in some unpleasant language, and one of them immediately hopped to his feet, stepped to the side, put a ghastly smile on his face, and offered his chair to Josh with a sweeping gesture and a bow.

  “There's chairs in the bedroom,” Josh said, as he went over to take the one offered.

  “He can stand,” Levrin said, and barked again at the standing thug, who obediently backed to the wall, leaned against it, folded his arms, and went inert.

  Josh said, “What's the occasion? I didn't expect a crowd.”

  “Ah,” Levrin said, with his most self-satisfied smile. He even rubbed his hands together. “It is because I have good news.”

  “Good,” Josh said.

  “The operation that has brought us all together,” Levrin told him, “is about to become accomplished.”

  “Oh, that's good,” Josh said, and managed his own smile.

  Tapping a fingertip to the side of his nose, looking roguish, Levrin said, “You understand, I still can't share with you the details.”

  “No, I know,” Josh agreed. “Security.”

  “Exactly. And that is why,” Levrin said, “the other good news is, you will not have to go to Fire Island this weekend.”

  Not a good idea to say he'd already planned to stay in town, for the massacre. “Well, the rental's ending,” he said. “I'll have to get out there eventually, help pack—”

  “Done,” Levrin said, and spread his hands, offering this gift. “All taken care of, no trouble to yourself at all.”

  “What do you mean, done?” A sudden horrible suspicion was drying Josh's throat, making him blink a lot.

  “The packing, done,” Levrin told him. “The closing of the house, done. The transit of the family from the rental property, done.”

  “Transit?” Josh found himself on his feet, not knowing how he got there. “What do you mean, transit?”

  “Do sit down, Josh,” Levrin said, still pleasant.

  “What do you mean, transit?”

  Levrin looked stern, but as though he were reluctant to look stern. “Hugo has given you his seat,” he said. “He would not like it if you didn't use it.”

  Josh looked around at Hugo, who was less inert, arms at his sides, little mean eyes looking without expression at Josh. Needing the answer to his question more than he needed a confrontation, particularly with Hugo, Josh sat and looked back at Levrin. “I need to know,” he said, being quiet and reasonable. “What do you mean when you say ‘transit’?”

  Levrin looked confused. Turning to Tina, he said, “But that is the word, is it not, in English? To move from this place to that place. Transit.”

  Rather than answer him, Tina looked at Josh, smiled in a reassuring way, and said, “They are safe, my dear.”

  Levrin said, “Safe? Safe? Of course they're safe!” With a big jovial smile at Josh, he said, “The whole purpose of this transit—transit? yes, transit—the whole purpose is to keep them safe. Keep you safe. Free you from this housekeeping details, packing, moving, free your mind from worry about your family, where is your family while the operation is going on, are they safe; yes. In a word, that's what they are. Safe.”

  “Where?”

  “Oh, well, Josh, you see,” Levrin said, awkward but firm, “this is the matter of security again. Until the operation is completed, it would be better if you did not know some of these locations.”

  Almost unable to form the words, Josh said, “I need to know…are they…”

  “Josh,” Tina said. When he looked at her, knowing his face must show how scared he felt, she said, “We did not know when you would be home from your offices, so we could not make a good time when your Eve could telephone you here, so it is arranged, you will telephone to her.”

  Feeling astonishing relief, even greater relief than he'd expected, he said, “I can talk to her?”

  “Of course,” Tina said. “You may reassure her, and she may reassure you.”

  “Of course,” Levrin added, “you understand there are certain guidelines.”

  “Guidelines.”

  “What you may discuss, and what you perhaps should not.” Levrin shrugged. “Your wife is being told she should not talk about where she is, and I must know that you will not ask her to violate that.”

  “Of course,” Josh said. Just so Eve and Jeremy were all right, it hardly mattered where they were being kept.

  Turning to the phone, at his end of the sofa, Levrin said, “I'll dial, shall I? And then you and I may trade seats.”

  “All right.”

  Tossing one more smile in Josh's direction, Levrin turned to the phone, angled it so the dialpad would not be visible to Josh, and dialed a long distance number, at which point Josh knew where Eve and Jeremy were. At Mrs. Rheingold's.

  If only he could ask her if she'd met Mr. Nimrin.

  Levrin spoke a few words of that other language into the phone, then smiled at Josh as he heaved himself out of the sofa. “They summon her.”

  “Fine.”

  Josh stood, and accepted the phone as he and Levrin switched seats. Next to Tina, interestedly watching him, tense, on the edge of the sofa cushion, he put the phone to his ear and heard breathing. He said, “Eve?”

  “It will be a moment,” Levrin cautioned from across the room, and the breathing continued in Josh's ear. It was repellent, warm and moist and hairy.

  Then it went away. And then he heard the familiar voice, shaky but strong: “Josh?”

  “Eve! How are you?

  “Well…” She sounded unsure how to answer that. “I'm all right,” she said, uncertainly. “I mean, these people came and said they were from you, and they knew I knew, you know, all about it, and they were there to help me pack. Josh, they weren't mean or anything, but they made it very clear, they weren't taking no for an answer.” She sounded indignant at the memory.

  “No, that's right,” Josh told her. “Go along with them, just go along with them.”

  “I did,” she said. “And here I—I'm not telling him where!” she snapped, away from the phone.

  “Eve,” Josh said, frightened for her, “don't argue with them.”

  “I know the agreement,” she said, mulishly, either to him or to “them.” “I'm just allowed to tell you Jeremy and I are all right, and we're glad you're all right, and we're looking forward to seeing you back in New York.” Her voice didn't quite break. “I am looking forward to seeing you back in New York”"

  “Oh, me, too,” Josh said. “When this is over, as soon as—”

  “Ah-ahh!” Levrin said, fake jolly, getting to his feet. “I think you've had your nice chat now,” he said, standing there, not approaching. “Don't you agree?”

  “But—”

  “What long chats you'll have,” Levrin assured him. “When this is all behind us. Tell your darling goodbye, Josh.”

  “I'm supposed to say goodbye now.”

  “I'm getting the same message,” she said.

  “I'll—I'll see you soon. I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. See you soon. Love you.”

  “Love you,” Josh said, aware of all those eyes in the room. He waited till he heard the click, then hung up.

  Levrin had advanced to the middle of the room, happy, buoyant, clapping his hands together. “Now!” he announced. “What do you say we order out? Pizza!”

  Were they never going to leave? While waiting for the pizza, they all sat around laughing at the network news; while eating the pizza, they glumly watched a sitcom; after the pizza, they spent the evening laughing at hospital and police shows. And throu
gh it all, Josh kept thinking: Robbie.

  Originally, he'd thought he and Tina might have dinner again, where he could dissolve the sleeping pills into her chardonnay at some point while she was in the ladies. Or, if that wouldn't work out, he could have a drink with her later in the evening and slip her the Mickey Finn then.

  But nothing was possible in this crowd. They had beer with the pizza, out of cans, Hugo and the other thug belching after every swallow. Tina barely sipped from her beer at all, looking completely out of place doing so, and in any case she and her beercan were too far away beyond Levrin and there were far too many eyes in the room, not sufficiently occupied by what they were seeing on the television screen.

  Robbie. No way to get in touch with him, warn him not to come, the scheme wasn't going to work. In the middle of the night, he'd show up—two o'clock, they'd agreed—and Tina would not be drugged. For all he knew, the entire crowd would still be here, in the living room. A key turns in the lock; all eyes turn to the door; Robbie makes the most dramatic entrance of his career; Robbie and Josh both exit, with prejudice.

  How could he make this not happen, how could he intercept Robbie somewhere along the way? He couldn't make a phone call. Put a sign on the outside of the apartment door? “GO AWAY.” But how could he move even that far, without being seen?

  The local news at eleven, particularly the apartment fires, were really rib-tickling for this crowd. They sobered for the weather, though, showing a great deal of interest in the weekend weather report, and then, just as an unnecessarily cheerful roundfaced man threatened to give them a complete recap of the day's sports, the phone rang.

  Josh stared at it, in sudden unreasonable hope. Could it possibly be Robbie, checking that the coast was clear? No, it couldn't; but could it?

  “Answer it, Josh,” Levrin said, and Josh saw that Levrin was beaming, like a generous uncle on Christmas morning.

  Josh said, “You know what it is?” as the phone rang again, and Tina wielded the remote to remove the sportsman from the room.

  “But it's your Eve,” Levrin told him. “We knew you would both sleep more peacefully if you were to speak one more time this evening, so on this occasion she is phoning to you. Answer it, Josh.”

  So he did, on the third ring: “Eve?”

  “Josh.” It was her, as promised. “They said I should call you again before bedtime, so you wouldn't worry.”

  “Yes, they just told me that, too. So I guess I shouldn't worry.”

  “I guess.”

  “Last time,” he said, “I didn't get to ask you about Jeremy. I know you said he's all right, but—”

  “He's asleep,” she told him. “They have a crib for him, he's really too old for it, but it's amazing, Josh, it's an antique, I've never seen anything like it.”

  Mrs. Rheingold's crib, Josh thought, and said, “So he didn't mind the change.”

  “No, not a bit. There's toys they bought for him, and you know he likes new people, new places. Oh.” Exasperated, she said, “They're afraid I'm going to tell you where we are.”

  “I don't even want to know,” Josh said. “We'll talk next week. When it's over.”

  “Ah ah-ah,” warned Levrin.

  “Whenever it's over,” Josh amended.

  Eve said, “They want me to say goodbye now.”

  If only, Josh thought, I had a secret code with Eve. We've been married for years, why don't we have a secret code? Why can't I tell her, ‘Blue sails are the most beautiful in the moonlight,’ and she'll know I mean, ‘Call Mitchell Robbie and tell him not to come here.’ Why did we waste all this time together? He said, “I love you, Eve.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.”

  “Bye,” he told the dead phone. He hung up, and all the others were on their feet, so he stood, too. “What now?”

  “Well,” Levrin said, at his most amiable, “now we leave. You stay, we leave. We wanted to be here for your phone call, but now we want to leave.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  “But first,” he said, “I wish to see the matériel. What you are holding for us. You understand, I have never seen it.”

  Tina, the hostess, said, “Come with me, Andrei, I'll show you.”

  “Yes. Come along, Josh.”

  They left the thugs in the living room and walked to the bedroom, where Tina opened the closet door and Levrin admired the uniforms hanging there while Josh could comfort himself with the thought that at least they hadn't stolen them last night.

  “Beautiful,” Levrin pronounced the uniforms, and told Josh, “They are legitimate, you know. Government issue. They come from a friend in the army.”

  “That's nice.”

  Levrin was less interested in the guns and not at all interested in the ammunition next door in Jeremy's room. He gave a few amused smiles when looking from Josh and Tina to the bed and back, but said nothing until they returned to the living room, where he gave Tina what might have been an ironic bow, as he said, “Good night, Tina.”

  “Good night,” she said, and yawned.

  Levrin's smile at Josh was definitely ironic. With a little glance at the sofa, he said, “And you have a good night, too, Josh.”

  “Thank you,” Josh said.

  35

  TINA WOULD NOT HAVE A drink with him. “But I am so sleepy,” she said, and yawned again for emphasis. “It is that Andrei. Being around him makes me exhausted. Time goes, and he is more and more and more relaxed, and the very air around him drags down with weariness.”

  Levrin made Josh feel the same way. He was surprised and pleased that Tina shared his reaction, but that wasn't the issue here. The issue here was Robbie. “Just one nightcap,” he said. “Or a glass of champagne.”

  “Oh, but so wasteful,” she said.

  “Not at all. I know a way to keep champagne until the next day, and it doesn't go flat.”

  “No, impossible,” she said, and yawned. “Excuse me. What is this way?”

  “I'll show you,” he said, and turned toward the kitchen.

  But she waggled a finger to make him stop. “No, tell it to me,” she said.

  “All right.” If I can keep the conversation going, he thought, maybe I can get her to take a drink after all. “You put the handle of a silver or silver plate spoon into the top,” he said, “hanging down toward the champagne. The bowl of the spoon is too large to fit into the neck, so it just hangs there. Put the champagne in the refrigerator, and the next day it's still bubbly.”

  “Impossible,” she said.

  “Let me show you,” he said, and turned again toward the kitchen.

  “Another time, Josh,” she said, almost pleading. “I am really too weary to go on. We will have a drink another time, and you may show me this spoon trick.”

  There was no hope. “If you insist,” he said. “Another time.”

  “Good night, Josh.”

  “Good night, Tina.”

  She turned toward the bedroom, then looked back, with a little seductive smile. “If I didn't know better,” she said, “I would think you were trying to get me into bed.”

  “Ha ha,” he said, and thought, but that is what I'm trying to do. And not succeeding.

  Nervousness kept him awake. For a little while after they said good night, he heard Tina moving around the apartment, then saw the bedroom lights go out, and heard nothing more.

  Was Andrei Levrin as good as a sleeping pill? Would his presence all evening have enough power to keep Tina Pausto asleep even without chemical assistance? He could only hope so, and fret.

  He wasn't on the floor tonight, since he didn't want to sleep, but sat on the sofa, where he watched two hours go by with glacial slowness on the red LED readout of his alarm clock. He actually did nod off a few times—when a :27, for instance, would become a :32 with no intervening numbers—but always some sound from the outside world would carom into his head and whisper, “Robbie,” and his eyes would pop open.

  1:57. A faint scratching at the door. Robbie trying to
fit the key into the lock. Josh rose to cross toward the door, which opened before he got there, letting in lightspill from the hallway and the silhouette of Robbie. “Ssshh,” Josh whispered. “Come in,” he whispered. “Close the door,” he whispered, afraid the light would draw the undrugged Tina to consciousness.

  Robbie obeyed everything, whispering, “What's up?”

  “I didn't get to give her the pills.”

  “Oh, boy. I've got everything ready, I've got guys from the cast to help carry, I've got a van. Is she asleep?”

  “Yes, but not drugged. And she's in there with the uniforms. That's the closet they're in.”

  “Maybe we could tip—”

  The living room lights flared on, blinding everybody. Josh, squinting like mad, hand up to his forehead like the lookout searching for land, turned to the inner doorway to see Tina standing there, in a long translucent violet nightgown, draped in more or less strategic folds. Her hand was still on the light-switch, her eyes blinked around blearily “Something woke me,” she said.

  “And am I glad it did,” Robbie said, advancing toward her, beaming like a lighthouse. “You must be Tina Pausto.”

  Josh, in panic, had been desperately trying to think of a story to tell, but it would not have included Robbie saying, “You must be Tina Pausto.” He stared, at Robbie's cheerful self-confidence, at Tina's growing confusion, and all he could do was hope against hope that Robbie knew what he was about.

  Tina frowned. “You know me?” Her expression might become dangerous.

  “Well, I recognize you from old Nimrin's description, years ago,” Robbie said, digging the hole ever deeper.

  Now the expression she leveled on him was dangerous. “El-lois Nimrin?”

  “What other is there?” Robbie took a stance. “Poppycock!” he announced. “I don't want another word out of you. I know what I know and that's what I know.”

  “But that was perfect,” Tina said, with a sudden happy smile, and Josh realized what Robbie had just done was a dead-on Ellois Nimrin imitation.

  “I can do Andrei Levrin, too,” Robbie told her, “but let's not make ourselves sad.” To Tina's laugh of girlish glee, he said, “I am Mitchell Robbie. I hope I will be Mitch to you, and I hope you will be Tina.”