"That's you," Diana had told her. "You're their fantasy. And then, of course, their nightmare afterwards," she had added, smiling.
Gelsey summoned the waiter, ordered a Bloody Mary, then stared off into space. Sooner or later her mark would find her. The more aloof she held herself, the more attracted he would be.
His name was Philip A. Dietz, according to his card, and he was everything Diana always told her girls to look for. He was from out of town ("San Jose-you know, Silicon. on Valley, computer chips"), he wore a wedding band ("Very important," Diana always said), an expensive Rolex ("A sure sign of flash," Diana always said) and when he picked up their first round of drinks he glanced at his room key, then wrote his room number on the check. ("Be careful if he shows too much cash, girls-he just might be a plant.
Perhaps the most important thing about him, from Gelsey's point of view, was his blatant conceit. She spotted him for a womanizer the moment he sat down. He could be Leering Man, she thought, reeking of gloss and selfassurance. Leering Man before he leers. She played with her swizzle stick as she looked him over. "I don't usually do this sort of thing."
Dietz leaned forward. His thick black hair looked dyed.
"What's that, dear? What don't you do?"
"Let strange men buy me drinks in hotel bars."
"Am I ' bad stranger'?" He grimaced. "Anyway, I thought you looked like a-" He smiled. "You know… adventuress?"
She shook her head. "You definitely had me wrong." "Okay," he said, turning serious. "You're a lawyer from Chicago. What brings you to New York?"
"I'm taking a deposition in the morning. I'll fly back in the afternoon."
"First class, too, I bet. And you'll take your time with the dep at two hundred thirty per. Right?"
She gazed at him with faint disgust. "I don't talk about my fees. "I I "Sorry.
No, you're not. She leaned forward, engaging his eyes. "What about you, Phil? You look like a player. So tell me-what's your game?"
He laughed. " ',' ''-l like that!" He took a long sip from his Scotch,
"I'm here to make a deal. If it goes down-well, old Phil here is going to be rich. Very rich."
She stared at him. She detested braggarts. You won't be boasting like that in the morning. Then she noticed that he was looking her over like a shrewd gambler inspecting a filly before a race.
"You're a very attractive woman. But you know that already, don't you?"
She winced. "Is that your idea of a clever remark?"
"Take it any way you like."
The hook was in, she knew, although he was trying not to show it.
"Well," she said, stifling a yawn, "time for me to be getting back upstairs."
"Whats-a-matter?" He pretended to be surprised. "It's early!" He showed her his watch. "Just eleven-fifteen." He paused. Now he'll go for it.
"What do you say we move someplace… you know… a little more comfortable?" He grinned.
She studied him coldly. "My room-is that what you're thinking?"
He shook his head, opened his palm, showed her his key. "I was thinking of old sixteen-sixty-four."
"Sorry. It's been fun." Her rejection caught him short. "What's the matter? Janekhad an edge to his voice. "Have I offended her?"
There was you? Did I do something wrong. she reached for his hand, rubbed her finger across his wedding band.
"This, my friend, is where I draw the line."
"Oh, that old thing."
"Yeah, that old thing."
She let his hand drop. He stared at her, deflated.
"All I meant was, you know… "
Now he's sputtering."
"Yeah? What did you mean?"
"Just a drink, from the minibar. No obligation, no expectation. You can leave whenever you want." He showed her a sincere expression, then raised his hand as if taking an oath. "Honest Injun!" His smile did not disarm her. It wouldn't evenfool his mother.
"Well -.." She pretended she was considering his offer. He peered at her eagerly. "Well," she said again. "All right. Just one drink."
In "old 1664" she moved to take control.
"Lie back," she told him. "Loosen your tie. Take off your shoes. Get comfortable." She took his key from his hand, unlocked the minibar, set to work. Dietz, amused, reclined on his bed and watched. observed.
"You make a very attractive bartender," he o Hey." Wow! The Great Seducer!
"I worked my way through law school tending bar." She turned slightly, slipped the KO drops into his drink, then turned back and handed him his glass.
He looked at it like it was poison. "What's this?"
"Gelsey's Special. Drink it. It'll make you feel good."
He sniffed at it, made a face. "I'm more of a straight Scotch guy myself."
"What's the matter? Afraid of something new?"
"Not really… "
She studied him. "I didn't figure you for a stick in the mud, Phil.
The taunt upset him. "I'm not a stick in the mud."
"A little stodgy, then?"
"Not stodgy at all."
"Good." She grinned. "I like an adventuresome man."
"I just prefer-" "Come on, Phil. Drink up," she said kindly. "You might like it.
Wouldn't that be a surprise?"
He hesitated for a moment, then clicked his glass against hers and quickly drank off half the potion.
Gotcha! All she had to do now was string him along a couple of minutes more.
"What do you think?"
"It's different, I'll say that for it.
"Of course it's different." She felt flushed with confidence. "And so am I," she added.
"You got a point there."
She laughed, started toward his bathroom.
"Where're you going?"
"To the powder room. I'll be right back. I just have to make a few"-she giggled-"preparations." She shut the bathroom door, her back against it. Jesus! She'd been worried when he sniffed the glass, as if he'd actually suspected something. But in the end he was an oaf like the rest of them, unaware of anything except that he was alone with an attractive woman and that he ought to get busy bedding her down, because, of course, that's what she wanted even if the sultry little bitch didn't know it yet.
When she felt enough time had passed, she opened the bathroom door and peered across the room. He must have heard her because he turned his head. His face was pale. He didn't look well at all.
"You okay?"
"A little wheezy." He tried to hold up his empty glass. He didn't have the strength. "What'd you give me?"
"Nothing." "Something… know it… "Love drops," she said. "I gave you love drops."
"Love drops?" He rubbed his eyes. His voice had lost its edge.
"Umm-hmmmm."
"You mean like a… aphrodisiac?" he asked.
"Uh-huh… "
She watched him silently, curiously, as he let go of the glass. It rolled across the bed and fell with a gentle thud onto the carpet.
You're dead meat, she thought.
"My eyelids… heavy… "
"Let yourself go, Phil. Try and sleep."
A mild glare of anger in his eyes. "You spiked it, didn't you?"
"A nice girl like me?"
She waited for the flash of terror, but he was too far gone. He closed his eyes and began to snore. She smiled, shook her head, then slipped on a fresh pair of surgical gloves and set to work cleaning up the room..
In the end she decided not to freak him out. No scissors work tonight-just pick the guy clean and split. She put his cash (three hundred dollars plus change), Rolex and wedding band into her purse.
He'll really sputter when he tries to explain that missing ring! She pulled off his already loosened tie, unbuttoned then spread open his shirt, sat astride him with her marker poised just above his skin. Think of a good message, one that'll really get to him. It didn't take her long to come up with an appropriate slogan. She wrote across his chest in mirror-reverse:
As she was dismount
ing his prostrate form, she noticed somethings little edge of khaki fabric peeking out of the top of his pants. Aha! What have we here? She unclasped his belt, unzipped his fly and pulled down his trousers to his knees. There it was, a money belt, and she'd almost missed it, too. Okay, let's see what you're hiding. Let's see if you're Mr. Bucks.
She pulled the belt off him. It had been strapped on so tight it left a pink imprint on his skin. She opened the flaps, explored the pockets, came up with a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and a small object carefully wrapped in plastic foam.
Expecting a diamond, or at least a ruby, she was disappointed to find a piece of hard, transparent material covered with tiny lines. She held the object up to the light. What the hell was it? Some sort of computer chip? Dietz, she remembered, had spoken of a deal that would make him very rich."
Well, good-bye deal! She popped the chip into her purse with the other loot, then went back into the bathroom, checked herself in the mirror, returned to the bedroom, looked around, saw everything was clean, moved over to the room door, looked back at Dietz and blew him a kiss.
"Sweet dreams, lover boy," she whispered.
She switched off the lights, cautiously opened the door, checked out the corridor. It was empty. She hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the handle of "old 1664," closed the door softly and strode swiftly to the elevators.
Descending to the lobby, she was nearly overcome by nausea. It was hunger, knotting up her stomach. She retrieved her things from the checkroom, walked inconspicuously through the lobby to the street, walked faster until she reached the corner, then broke into a run.
Rain was still falling and there were puddles everywhere. She splashed through several, drenching her shoes and feet. ke cream! She drove to an all-night truckers' diner near the entrance to the tunnel. A few minutes later, sitting at the counter in the midst of pigging out on a huge chocolate sundae topped by a swirl of whipped cream mounted with a cherry, she paused to observe herself in a decorative strip of mirror on the opposing wall.
The sight offended her. She was filled with revulsion for what she was, for what she had done, for what she feared she might one day do.
She knew then that in her next session she would have to tell Dr. Z about the marks. And about a lot of other things, such as Leering Man and "playtime" and the compulsion that came upon her when it rained.
Most of all, she thought, she'd tell him about the secrets of the maze.
Mirror-Reverser.
When Janek emerged from customs at Kennedy Airport, he found Aaron Greenberg waiting at the gate. It was just after midnight, Janek was happy to see him, but he was startled. No one except Kit knew where he'd gone and when he was flying back.
"What is this-VIP treatment?"
"Kit's orders, Frank. She told me to pick you up."
Janek cuffed Aaron on the shoulder. They'd been partners since Timmy Sheehan retired. Aaron was a short, taut, wiry man with weather-beaten skin, sad eyes and a sweet, sometimes heartbreaking smile. He was wearing his usual short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt. Tonight the colors were green and black.
"Some guy's been assassinated downtown at the Savoy," Aaron explained.
"Kit slotted it to us."
"I've been in planes and airports for fifteen hours. Don't suppose there's time to go home and change?"
"Probably be better if you didn't."
Janek wasn't surprised to be assigned a case. Kit had told him she was going to put him on something when he'd called her between planes from Mexico City: "I want you busy, Frank. I don't want everyone talking about how I've got you reopening Mendoza." But he'd expected she would want to debrief him on Cuba first.
"When did this come up?"
"Hour and a half ago." Aaron glanced at his watch.
"Crime Scene team's due now."
They walked through the International Arrivals building. There were fewer than fifty people in the lobby, a sharp contrast to the hordes that had thronged the terminal in Mexico. Actually, he thought, it was good to have something that would take his mind off Cuba-the scorn he'd seen in Violetta's eyes, the degradation of the beating, the stink and boredom of the closet cell.
Aaron led him to his car, a beaten-up green Chevrolet parked illegally in front. There was a ticket on the wind shield.
"Port Authority cops!" Aaron snatched it off the glass, then laughed.
They sped along the Van Wyck, empty of traffic. Janek looked up when they passed the safe house in which he'd met Angel Figueras two and a half weeks before. They were going too fast for him to make out anything more than a blacked-out ordinary little house on an ordinary little street. :'She's not fooling anybody. You know that, Frank?"
"Kit?"
Aaron nodded. "Everyone knows where you've been and what you've been doing down there."
"They don't really know."
"Not officially. But there're rumors around." Janek recalled Sarah's "a little bird told me."
"If there're rumors, they probably track back to Baldwin," he said.
"sure. Baldwin and Dakin were big buddies back then."
"Still are."
"So, if you're working on Mendoza, and everyone knows it-why bother with a cover?"
"Ask Kit."
"Yeah… but, see, that's what bothers me. Kit's supposed to be smart.
But she's acting like she thinks putting you on this hotel homicide is going to make people think you're occupied full-time."
"Don't underestimate her."
Aaron laughed. "Impossible!" He paused. "Anyway, you're close to her.
Maybe you can clue her in."
He cut onto Queens Boulevard, followed it to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, then crossed the Williamsburg to lower Manhattan. From the bridge the city looked truly majestic: clusters of buildings lit from within, stark forms of varying heights that seemed to float against the night sky. Moved by the sight, Janek felt seized by the naked power of New York, a place he alternately adored and loathed.
"You have to be strong to live here," he said.
Aaron nodded. "The slightest show of weakness and you're doomed."
Sue Burke met them in the hotel lobby. She was a short, intense young woman, a skilled martial artist, with dark, short hair cut hutch. An up front lesbian, she was impatient, brash, smart and fiercely loyal.
Janek had always held to the view that it takes ten years to make a good detective. Sue was the exception-she'd only been in for three, but, he felt, she was nearly there.
"Victim's name is Philip Dietz," she told them as she guided them to the elevators. "Registered two days ago. Gave an address in San Jose.
This morning there was a DO NOT DISTURB sign on his door. Around noon, with the sign still there, the maid knocked softly, then looked in. This is standard hotel procedure. People go out and forget to remove the sign."
Janek nodded.
"So the maid looks in and sees Dietz lying on his bed. The drapes are drawn. She shuts the door and goes about her business. Meantime, some calls come in. Operator rings the room but Dietz doesn't pick up.
Operator asks the callers if they want to leave messages. Dietz's wife leaves three.
They stepped into the elevator. Sue pushed the button for the sixteenth floor. Janek could tell she liked recounting the story.
"Around nine o'clock tonight, Dietz's wife phones the desk. Says she's worried, says her husband should have called her back. She asks the assistant manager to go upstairs and check. He goes up, enters the room, sees Dietz lying on the bed, a pillow on top of his head. Meantime he notices the room's a mess, like someone's turned it over. The assistant approaches Dietz and tries to wake him up. Dietz is dead.
Looks like he's been shot in the head through the pillow to muffle the sound. Hotel management calls us. They don't call back Mrs. Dietz."
On the sixteenth floor a uniformed cop was standing by the elevators.
Aaron clipped his shield to his lapel. Janek hadn't taken his shield to Cuba, but the cop recogn
ized him and waved him through.
"Have we called her yet?"
Sue shook her head. "Waiting for you, Frank."
"Right… "
" Anyway, like I said, the room's been ransacked. Some stuff gone.
Watch, cash, probably his wedding band-I noticed a ring mark on his finger. But not his credit cards or ID. Still, there're no papers, datebook, address book or other businessman's stuff. And his clothes have been sliced up, like someone's been looking inside the linings. The lining of his suitcase's been slit open, too."
"Doesn't go with taking a guy's watch and money," Aaron said.
Sue nodded. "There's more. Last night Dietz was observed picking up a young, well-dressed redhead in the hotel lounge. They talked a while, had a couple drinks. The waiter remembers them leaving together a little before midnight. That's the last time anyone saw him alive."
A small group was milling outside the door to room 1664. Sue introduced Janek to the hotel night manager. His name was Blinken, he spoke with a soft German accent and he was trying hard to act stoical, perhaps the way they'd taught him at hotel-management school in Lucerne.
The minute Janek walked in he felt a rush. Homicide investigations were his specialty. An assistant med examiner, Lois Rappaport, famous for her crooked mouth and wry attitude, was examining the body on the bed. A four-man Crime Scene team plus Sue Burke's partner, Ray Galindez, were conducting an evidence search in various parts of the room.
He greeted everybody then stood back, trying to focus on the scene. He felt at once that there was something wrong with it. He asked himself what it was. Then Lois Rappaport broke his concentration.
"Take a look," she said, pointing to Dietz's chest, Janek walked over to the bed and peered down. There were red ink markings on the flesh.
"What is this?" Aaron asked.
Rappaport shrugged.
Sue craned forward. "Think maybe one of those voodoo jobs, Frank?"
Ray Galindez joined them. He was in his late twenties, a tall, very lean good-looking man of Puerto Rican descent, with a serious demeanor, dusty skin and an elegant pencil line mustache.
"Maybe Arabic?" Ray suggested.
Janek shook his head. "Shoot me a Polaroid, will you, Ray?"
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