The Osterman Weekend: A Novel

by Robert Ludlum

  Fassett had been right; he could manage them all.

  Even Ali.

  21

  He stood by the bedroom window. There was no moon in the sky, just clouds barely moving. He looked below at the side lawn and the woods beyond, and wondered suddenly if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was the glow of a cigarette, distinctly seen. Someone was walking and smoking a cigarette in full view! Good Christ! he thought; did whoever it was realize that he was giving away the patrol?

  And then he looked more closely. The figure was in a bathrobe. It was Osterman.

  Had Bernie seen something? Heard something?

  Tanner silently, rapidly went to the bedroom door and let himself out.

  “I thought you might be up and around,” said Bernie sitting on a deck chair, looking at the water in the pool. “This evening was a disaster.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Then I assume you’ve given up your senses of sight and sound. It was a wet night at Malibu. If we all had had knives that pool would be deep red by now.”

  “Your Hollywood mentality’s working overtime.” Tanner sat down at the edge of the water.

  “I’m a writer. I observe and distill.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Tanner said. “Dick was uptight about business; he told me. Joe got drunk. So what?”

  Osterman swung his leg over the deck chair and sat forward. “You’re wondering what I’m doing here.… It was a hunch, an instinct. I thought you might come down yourself. You didn’t look like you could sleep any more than I could.”

  “You intrigue me.”

  “No jokes. It’s time we talk.”

  “About what?”

  Osterman got up and stood above Tanner. He lit a fresh cigarette with the stub of his first. “What do you want most? I mean for yourself and your family?”

  Tanner couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly. Osterman had begun with the tritest introduction imaginable. Still, he answered as though he took the question seriously.

  “Peace, I guess. Peace, food, shelter, creature comforts. Are those the key words?”

  “You’ve got all that. For your current purposes, anyway.”

  “Then I really don’t understand you.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that you have no right to select anything anymore? Your whole life is programmed to fulfill a predetermined function; do you realize that?”

  “It’s universal, I imagine. I don’t argue with it.”

  “You can’t argue. The system won’t permit it. You’re trained for something; you gain experience—that’s what you do for the rest of your life. No arguments.”

  “I’d be a rotten nuclear physicist; you’d be less than desirable in brain surgery.…” Tanner said.

  “Of course everything’s relative; I’m not talking fantasy. I’m saying that we’re controlled by forces we can’t control any longer. We’ve reached the age of specialization, and that’s the death knell. We live and work within our given circles; we’re not allowed to cross the lines, even to look around. You more than me, I’m afraid. At least I have a degree of choice as to which piece of crap I’ll handle. But crap, nevertheless.… We’re stifled.”

  “I hold my own; I’m not complaining. Also, my risks are pretty well advertised.”

  “But you have no back-ups! Nothing! You can’t afford to stand up and say this is me! Not on the money-line, you can’t! Not with this to pay for!” Osterman swung his arm to include Tanner’s house and grounds.

  “Perhaps I can’t … on the money-line. But who can?”

  Osterman drew up the chair and sat down. He held Tanner’s eyes with his own and spoke softly. “There’s a way. And I’m willing to help.” He paused for a moment, as if searching for words, then started to speak again. “Johnny.… ” Osterman stopped once more. Tanner was afraid he wouldn’t continue, wouldn’t find the courage.

  “Go on.”

  “I’ve got to have certain … assurances; that’s very important!” Osterman spoke rapidly, the words tumbling forth on top of each other.

  Suddenly both men’s attention was drawn to the house. The light in Janet Tanner’s bedroom had gone on.

  “What’s that?” asked Bernie, not bothering to disguise his apprehension.

  “Just Janet. That’s her room. We finally got it through her head that when she goes to the bathroom she should turn on the lights. Otherwise she bumps into everything and we’re all up for twenty minutes.”

  And then it pierced the air. Terrifyingly, with ear-shattering horror. A child’s scream.

  Tanner raced around the pool and in the kitchen door. The screams continued and lights went on in the other three bedrooms. Bernie Osterman nearly ran up Tanner’s back as the two men raced to the little girl’s room. Their speed had been such that Ali and Leila were just then coming out of their rooms.

  John rushed against the door, not bothering about the doorknob. The door flew open and the four of them ran inside.

  The child stood in the center of the room over the body of the Tanners’ Welsh terrier. She could not stop screaming.

  The dog lay in a pool of blood.

  Its head had been severed from its body.

  John Tanner picked up his daughter and ran back into the hallway. His mind stopped functioning. There was only the terrifying picture of the body in the woods alternating with the sight of the small dog. And the horrible words of the man in the parking lot at the Howard Johnson’s motel.

  “A severed head means a massacre.”

  He had to get control, he had to.

  He saw Ali whispering in Janet’s ear, rocking her back and forth. He was aware of his son crying several feet away and the outline of Bernie Osterman comforting him.

  And then he heard the words from Leila.

  “I’ll take Janet, Ali. Go to Johnny.”

  Tanner leapt to his feet in fury. “You touch her, I’ll kill you! Do you hear me, I’ll kill you!”

  “John!” Ali yelled at him in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

  “She was across the hall! Can’t you see that? She was across the hall!”

  Osterman rushed toward Tanner, pushing him back, pinning his shoulders against the wall. Then he slapped him hard across the face.

  “That dog’s been dead for hours! Now, cut it out!”

  For hours. It couldn’t be for hours. It had just happened. The lights went on and the head was severed. The little dog’s head was cut off.… And Leila was across the hall. She and Bernie. Omega! A massacre!

  Bernie cradled his head. “I had to hit you. You went a little nuts.… Come on, now. Pull yourself together. It’s terrible, just terrible, I know. I got a daughter.”

  Tanner tried to focus. First his eyes, then his thoughts. They were all looking at him, even Raymond, still sobbing by the door of his room.

  “Isn’t anybody here?” Tanner couldn’t help himself. Where were Fassett’s men? Where in God’s name were they?

  “Who, darling?” Ali put her arm around his waist in case he fell again.

  “Nobody here.” It was a statement said softly.

  “We’re here. And we’re calling the police. Right now!” Bernie put Tanner’s hand on the staircase railing and walked him downstairs.

  Tanner looked at the thin, strong man helping him down the steps. Didn’t Bernie understand? He was Omega. His wife was Omega! He couldn’t phone the police!

  “The police? You want the police?”

  “I certainly do. If that was a joke, it’s the sickest I’ve ever seen. You’re damned right I want them. Don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  They reached the living room; Osterman took command.

  “Ali, you call the police! If you don’t know the number, dial the operator!” And then he went into the kitchen.

  Where were Fassett’s men?

  Alice crossed to the beige telephone behind the sofa. In an instant it was clear she didn’t have to dial.
/>   The beam of a searchlight darted back and forth through the front windows and danced against the wall of the living room. Fassett’s men had arrived at last.

  At the sound of the front door chimes, Tanner wrenched himself off the couch and into the hallway.

  “We heard some yelling and saw the light on. Is everything all right?” It was Jenkins and he barely hid his anxiety.

  “You’re a little late!” Tanner said quietly. “You’d better come on in! Omega’s been here.”

  “Take it easy.” Jenkins walked into the hallway, followed by McDermott.

  Osterman came out of the kitchen.

  “Jesus! You people are fast!”

  “Twelve-to-eight shift, sir,” said Jenkins. “Saw the lights on and people running around. That’s unusual at this hour.”

  “You’re very alert and we’re grateful.…”

  “Yes, sir.” Jenkins interrupted and walked into the living room. “Is anything the matter, Mr. Tanner? Can you tell us or would you rather speak privately?”

  “There’s nothing private here, officer.” Osterman followed the policemen and spoke before Tanner could answer. “There’s a dog upstairs in the first bedroom on the right. It’s dead.”

  “Oh?” Jenkins was confused. He turned back to Tanner.

  “Its head was cut off. Severed. We don’t know who did it.”

  Jenkins spoke calmly. “I see.… We’ll take care of it.” He looked over at his partner in the hallway. “Get the casualty blanket, Mac.”

  “Right” McDermott went back outside.

  “May I use your phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “Captain MacAuliff should be informed. I’ll have to call him at home.”

  Tanner didn’t understand. This wasn’t a police matter. It was Omega! What was Jenkins doing? Why was he calling MacAuliff? He should be reaching Fassett! MacAuliff was a local police officer, acceptable, perhaps, but fundamentally a political appointment. MacAuliff was responsible to the Saddle Valley town council, not to the United States government. “Do you think that’s necessary? At this hour? I mean, is Captain …”

  Jenkins cut Tanner off abruptly. “Captain MacAuliff is the Chief of Police. He’d consider it very abnormal if I didn’t report this directly to him.”

  In an instant Tanner understood. Jenkins had given him the key.

  Whatever happened, whenever it happened, however it happened—there could be no deviation from the norm.

  This was the Chasm of Leather.

  And it struck Tanner further that Jenkins was making his phone call for the benefit of Bernard and Leila Osterman.

  Captain Albert MacAuliff entered the Tanner house and immediately made his authority clear. Tanner watched him deliver his instructions to the police officers, in a low, commanding voice. He was a tall, obese man, with a thick neck which made his shirt collar bulge. His hands were thick, too, but strangely immobile, hanging at his sides as he walked—the mark of a man who’d spent years patrolling a beat on foot, shifting his heavy club from one hand to the other.

  MacAuliff had been recruited from the New York police and he was a living example of the right man for the right job. Years ago the town council had gone on record that it wanted a no-nonsense man, someone who’d keep Saddle Valley clear of undesirable elements. And the best defense in these days of permissiveness was offense.

  Saddle Valley had wanted a mercenary.

  It had hired a bigot.

  “All right, Mr. Tanner, I’d like a statement. What happened here tonight?”

  “We … we had a small party for friends.”

  “How many?”

  “Four couples. Eight people.”

  “Any hired help?”

  “No.… No, no help.”

  MacAuliff looked at Tanner, putting his notebook at his side. “No maid?”

  “No.”

  “Did Mrs. Tanner have anyone in during the afternoon? To help out?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ask her yourself.” Ali was in the study where they’d made makeshift beds for the children.

  “It could be important. While you were at work she might have had some coloreds or P.R.’s here.”

  Tanner saw Bernie recoil. “I was home all day.”

  “Okay.”

  “Captain,” Osterman stepped forward from Leila’s side. “Somebody broke into this house and slit that dog’s throat. Isn’t it possible that it was a thief? Mr. and Mrs. Tanner were robbed last Wednesday. Shouldn’t we check …”

  It was as far as he got. MacAuliff looked at the writer and scarcely disguised his contempt. “I’ll handle this, Mr.…” The Police Chief glanced at his notebook. “Mr. Osterman. I’d like Mr. Tanner to explain what happened here tonight. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him answer. We’ll get to you in good time.”

  Tanner kept trying to get Jenkins’ attention, but the policeman avoided his eyes. The news director didn’t know what to say—or what specifically not to say.

  “Now then, Mr. Tanner,” MacAuliff sat down and returned to his notebook, pencil poised. “Let’s start at the beginning. And don’t forget things like deliveries.”

  Tanner was about to speak when McDermott’s voice could be heard from the second floor.

  “Captain! Can I see you a minute? The guest room.”

  Without saying anything, Bernie started up the stairs in front of MacAuliff, Leila following.

  Instantly, Jenkins approached Tanner’s chair and bent over. “I’ve only got time to say this once. Listen and commit! Don’t bring up any Omega business. None of it. Nothing! I couldn’t say it before, the Ostermans were hovering over you.”

  “Why not? For Christ’s sake, this is Omega business!… What am I supposed to say? Why shouldn’t I?”

  “MacAuliff’s not one of us. He’s not cleared for anything.… Just tell the truth about your party. That’s all!”

  “You mean he doesn’t know?”

  “He doesn’t. I told you, he’s not cleared.”

  “What about the men outside, the patrols in the woods?”

  “They’re not his men.… If you bring it up he’ll think you’re crazy. And the Ostermans will know. If you point at me I’ll deny everything you say. You’ll look like a psycho.”

  “Do you people think that MacAuliff …”

  “No. He’s a good cop. He’s also a small-time Napoleon so we can’t use him. Not openly. But he’s conscientious, he can help us. Get him to find where the Tremaynes and the Cardones went.”

  “Cardone was drunk. Tremayne drove them all home.”

  “Find out if they went straight home. MacAuliff loves interrogations; he’ll nail them if they’re lying.”

  “How can I …”

  “You’re worried about them. That’s good enough. And remember, it’s nearly over.”

  MacAuliff returned. McDermott had “mistaken” the lateral catch in the guest room window as a possible sign of a break-in.

  “All right, Mr. Tanner. Let’s start with when your guests arrived.”

  And so John Tanner, functioning on two levels, related the blurred events of the evening. Bernie and Leila Osterman came downstairs and added very little of consequence. Ali came out of the study and contributed nothing.

  “Very well, ladies and gentlemen.” MacAuliff got out of the chair.

  “Aren’t you going to question the others?” Tanner also rose and faced the police captain.

  “I was going to ask you if we could use your telephone. We have procedures.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Jenkins, call the Cardones. We’ll see them first.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about the Tremaynes?”

  “Procedures, Mr. Tanner. After we speak to the Cardones we’ll call the Tremaynes and then see them.”

  “That way no one checks with anyone else, right?”

  “That’s right, Mr. Osterman. You familiar with police work?”
/>   “I write your guidelines every week.”

  “My husband’s a television writer,” said Leila.

  “Captain.” Patrolman Jenkins spoke from the telephone. “The Cardones aren’t home. I’ve got the maid on the line.”

  “Call the Tremaynes.”

  The group remained silent while Jenkins dialed. After a brief conversation Jenkins put down the telephone.

  “Same story, Captain. The daughter says they’re not home either.”

  22

  Tanner sat with his wife in the living room. The Ostermans had gone upstairs; the police departed in search of the missing couples. Neither John nor Ali was comfortable. Ali because she had decided in her own mind who had killed the dog, John because he couldn’t get out of his mind the implications of the dog’s death.

  “It was Dick, wasn’t it?” Alice asked.

  “Dick?”

  “He threatened me. He came into the kitchen and threatened me.”

  “Threatened you?” If that was so, thought Tanner, why hadn’t Fassett’s men come sooner. “When? How?”

  “When they were leaving.… I don’t mean he threatened me personally. Just generally, all of us.”

  “What did he say?” Tanner hoped Fassett’s men were listening now. It would be a point he’d bring up later.

  “He said you shouldn’t make judgments. Editorial judgments.”

  “What else?”

  “That some … some people were more resourceful. That’s what he said. That I should remember that people weren’t always what they seemed.… That some were more resourceful than others.”

  “He could have meant several things.”

  “It must be an awful lot of money.”

  “What’s a lot of money?”

  “Whatever he and Joe are doing with Jim Loomis. The thing you had looked into.”

  Oh, God, thought Tanner. The real and the unreal. He’d almost forgotten his lie.

  “It’s a lot of money,” he said softly, realizing he was on dangerous ground. It would occur to Ali that money itself was insufficient. He tried to anticipate her. “More than just money, I think. Their reputations could go down the drain.”

  Alice stared at the single lighted table lamp. “Upstairs you … you thought Leila had done it, didn’t you?”