"Okay, but start buying tokens, okay?"? He let go of Stone's arm.
Stone sprinted up the platform toward an open car door and hurled
himself at it. The doors closed
on him. He struggled, pushed on the doors, and fell into the car,
banging a knee. He got to his feet in time to look out the window and
see Dryer standing on the platform, looking at him as the train pulled
out. Dryer gave him a little smile.
Stone watched him for as long as he could; then the train was in the
tunnel. He sat down, hoping to God that Dryer would go back up to 6th
Avenue and be spotted by Dino. His raincoat, a new one, was torn from
his leap over the turnstile, and there was a hole in his trousers' knee
where he had fallen. It was one hell of an expensive subway ride, he
thought.
He got off the train at the next stop; then, ufiable to find a cab, he
limped home.
CHAPTER
Amanda dialed Stoneg number and waited, tapping her perfect nails on
the desktop while the secretary put her through. She had been
standi!3g at Martha's graveside the day be forb when hr thoughts about
the DIRT business had begun to fall into place, and she had begun to
fully realize how dangerous her position was. Amanda had always made a
habit of turning danger into opportunity, but first she had to know
exactly where she stood, which meant knowing exactly where Stone stood.
"Hello, Amanda; I'm orry to have kept you waiting." "Not to worry,
darling. Look, I'd like to know exactly where you are in this
investigation. Can you bring me up to date, and as concisely as
possible?"
SrlJAEr WOODS
"Of course. Most of this you already know, of course, but I think
we've identified the person or, perhaps, persons who are publishing the
newsletter. One of them calls himself Jonathan Dryer and the other,
Geoffrey Power or G. Gable. They appear to be working together. Dryer
has abandoned his apartment, and we haven't been able to locate him
yet. Last night we got a look at him at a benefit at the Shubert
Theatre, but he managed to elude us."
"Who's us?"
"Dino Bacchetti, my old detective partner."
"Are the police involved in this?" she asked, alarmed.
Io, this was completely unofficial. We think Dryer has been pulling
off burglaries to support himself, and a gun that was stolen from one
of the apartments may have been used to kill a retired cop, but we
can't prove anything yet."
"I see," she said, relieved. "And where do you intend to go from
here?"
"I intend to find Dryer," Stone replied. "He's the key to this whole
thing."
"And that's it? That's everything?"
"That's everything."
"Thank you, darling; see you soon." She hung up and dialed Richard
Hickock's private office number.
"Hello?"
"Dick, it's Amanda. Break your lunch date today; we have to meet."
"Is this really important?"
"I think you could call it vital. Twelve-thirty at Twenty-One?"
"See you then."
When they had settled into a banquette in the inner horseshoe of the
bar at "21," and after Hickock had ordered his steak and baked potato
and Amanda her grilled salmon, no butter, and after Hickock had been
served a double vodka martini and Amanda her San Pellegrino, she got at
own to business.
'"Dick, darling," Amanda said, "I'm afraid that, through no fault of
your own, you have been plaed in a very dangerous position." She did
not mention the danger to herself.
"Oh?" he said, not particularly alarmed, "How so?"
She gavd him a bn."f rundown on what Stone Barrington had learned about
the DIRT business.
"Well, at least he's making progress," Hickock said, taking a sip of
his huge martini.
"Dick, my dearest, he may be making too much progress."
Hickock frowned. "Too much progress?"
"Yes. You see, while Stone has been conducting his investigation, I
have been conducting one of my own, and, as is my wont, I have been
looking into more than who is doing this; I have been learning why."
"And just why have this Dryer and Power, or whatever their names are,
been doing this?"
"It seems, my darling, that they harbor some grudge against you."
"Me? You mean only me?"
Amanda nodded gravely. "Apparently they've gone after me only because
of my connection with you."
"What did I ever do to these guys? I don't even know who they are."
"Who knows? What's important is, they seem to know a very great deal
about you and your business affairs."
Hickock put down his martini. "Just what the hell is that supposed to
mean, Amanda?"
"It means, Dick, that they seem to have unearthed information about
your connection with an entity called Window Seat."
All expression left Hickock's face. "That's impossible," he said. "I
mean, I never heard of anything like that."
"Dick, my dear, you don't have to worry about me; I'm on your side."
"Amanda, how did you find out about this?" "About what, darling?"
"About Window Seat, goddammit!"
"Dick, keep your voice down," she said, looking around them. "You know
that I have a great many sources for all sorts of information."
"Yeah, well, how the hell did you hear about Window Seat? And don't
you think for a moment you can plead the confidentiality of a
journalist's sources. I want to know now." "Well, your Glynnis is in
possession of this knowledge, and she's a pretty unhappy woman at the
moment, isn't she?" "Don't try that with me, Amanda; Glynnis and I
have reconciled our differences, and she would never mention this to
anybody." Amanda had misjudged Hickock; she was not going to be able
to play him quite as she had imagined. Inwardly, she shrugged; well,
that little vermin Peebles would just have to be sacrificed. "4from
Allan Peebles," she said. "He told you about Window Seat?" Hickock
asked, unbelieving. "]Everything. About the Infiltrator and the porno
magazines. The gay porno magazines." Hickock blanched. "I'll have
his balls by close of business," he said. : "Wll, ndw, Dick, hat might
not be the wisest move; not just yet, anyway." "Why not?" "Well,
these two little creeps Dryer and Power are still out there. If you do
something so public as sacking Peebles, it's bound to cause a new round
of faxing, reporting the whole business, and I don't think you want
that to happen, do you?" "I see your point," Hickock said, returning
to his martini. "I'll have to be more subtle." "Oh, Dick, I'm sure
you can deal with Allan
Peebles at any moment you wish, after this DIRT thing has blown over."
"Yes, I can certainly do that, but when is this going to blow over?"
"Well, clearly it won't blow over if we leave Stone Barrington to his
devices. Eventually he'll unearth the whole thing." "Yes, I suppose
he will," Hickock agreed. "I think it might be best if we terminated
his investigation and turned to, shall we say, other means." Hickock
turned and looked her in the eye. "Just what means did you have in
mind, Amanda?" "Consider this, Dick: More than the DIRT businesis
involved. Dryer, or perhaps Power, or both, may have caused the death
of a police officer--a retired one, but nevertheless..." "Jesus
Christ." "So far the police are not officially involved in the
investigation of these two men, but if Stone--or anyone else, for that
matter--should come up with evidence linking the two to the murder,
then the whole can of worms--DIRT, Window Seat, everything--will be
opened up." "Yes, I see that. So Dryer and Power are the immediate
problem." "Yes. Surely you have connections with people who make a
business of solving troublesome problems by more direct means." "Such
as who?" "Well, you did have some help in solving your labor problems
last year, didn't you? A consultant, so to speak?" Hickock looked
around him. "I think we've talked enough about this, Amanda."
"Probably." "I understand the parameters of the problem now. Will you
call off Stone Barrington?" "Of course, darling, if you think that's
best." "I do." Amanda looked up. "Oh, here comes your steak,
darling." She watched as the perfectly grilled slab of meat was set
down before him. "W43y ever haven't you already had a coronary?" She
tested her salmon with a fork. "I give other people coronaries,"
Hickock replied, sawing off a hunk of beef and stuffing it into his
mouth. Amanda tucked into her salmon, secure in the knowledge that,
while she had probably solved the DIRT pob len she haft also
ingratiated herself with Richard Hickock, at the same time letting him
know that she knew. That knowledge would certainly be useful at some
later date. The salmon was delicious.
CHAPTER
,i.. ichard Hickock got out of his car and tapped on the driver's
window. "I'm going to take a little walk," he said. "You wait here.".
"Around here, Mr. Hickock?" the driver asked, surprised. They were
in a desolate area of the Long Island City section of Queens, amid
empty, rundown industrial buildings. "I'll be back soon," Hickock
said. He trudged off into a misty rain, down an empty street.
Following the directions that had been faxed to him that afternoon, he
turned left and crossed the street. The number "19" had been
spray-painted on the door of a building, but it looked locked. He
tried it, and it wasn't. Inside, he went to a huge freight elevator,
pulled a cord that closed the
3;8
doors from the top and bottom, and pressed the number for the fourth
floor. The thing actually worked. When it stopped he pushed open the
door and walked out of the elevator into a large, empty factory area.
Daylight was waning, and the low light threw into relief holes in the
floor where machinery had once been bolted down. There was no place to
sit, so he walked slowly around the floor, wondering at what he was
about to do. Suddenly he heard an electric motor running, and a moment
later another freight elevator at the opposite end or, the floor
stopped, and Enrico Bianchi stepped out. The two men walked from their
opposite ends tote middle of the huge floor and embraced. "Hello,
Ricky," Hickock said. "Thank you so much for coming." Bianchi was, as
always, tanned and slim, and his finely barbered hair had gone snow
white. ' "Dickie," Bianchi said, holding him at arm's length and
looking at him. "You lost some weight." "Yeah, well, Glynnis made me
buy a treadmill." Bianchi laughed heartily. "My wife will never get
me on one of those." "How is she? And your daughter?" "The wife is
the same, maybe a little fatter. Mary Arm is married to the law, you
will remember." "That must be a little touchy," Hickock said.
"We manage to get along, mostly by not talking. He's not a bad fellow,
for a cop. I bought them an apartment on the East Side; Mary Arm has
never liked Brooklyn." "That's very generous of you." "Well, she's my
only daughter, you know, and she's a tough one, like me. She gets what
she wants, always." He tucked Hickock's arm into his. "Let's walk."
Hickock moved with him and, arm in arm, they promenaded slowly around
the empty floor. "I'm sorry we have to meet like this, but the feds
are everywhere these days, have everything bugged. I can't even talk
in my car anymore, and we had to lose a carload of them before coming
here today." "It's all right; I understand. I'm just glad you could
take the time." "Something's wrong, eh?" Bianchi asked. "I'm afraid
so." "Tell me about it." "There are two young men who have been
circulating rumors about me; they have almost cost me my marriage."
Bianchi made a noise. "That is awful, to attack a man's personal life.
Is this a business thing?" "They seem to know more than they should
about my business. An employee has talked out of turn." "And you want
me to, ah, speak to this employee?"
Hickock shook his head. "No; I can take care of him whenever I like.
But the two young men are out of my reach."
"But, perhaps, not out of mine?" Bianchi said, chuckling.
"I hope you are right. They have been very elusive; I have names, but
they may be false; I have no address, but they are circulating around
the fashionable quarters of Manhattan." Hickock pulled a copy of
Vanity Fair from his overcoat pocket and opened it. "But I have a very
good photograph of one of them. He calls himself Jothan Dryer."
Bianchi stopped walking, fished a lighter out of his jacket pocket, and
struck it, studying the photograph. "A good-looking boy," he said. He
closed the magazine and tucked it into his own overcoat pocket.
"Yes, he seems to do well with the ladies. The other ofie has' used
the name Geoffrey Power, and maybe G. Gable."
"What else can you tell me about these young men?"
"They resemble each other--so much so that they may be brothers. One
of them has recently arrived from L.A. One or both of them has some
considerable skill as a burglar; he has broken into several large
apartments and stolen cash, jewelry--always men's wristwatches--and a
pistol with a silencer attached, One of them may have killed a retired
police officer with the stolen pistol."
"So the police are already looking for them?" "No, not yet; there
hasn't been enough evidence to connect them to the murder. I have no
hard information whatever about these two; everything I have told you
is just guessing."
"How did you come by what you have already told me?"
"I hired an investigator."
"His name?"
"Stone Barrington. You know him?"
"I know of him; he is a friend of my son-in-law, the cop."
"He's very good."
"Is he still working on this?"
'"He's being called off today. I'm afraid that if he finds them and
the police start talking to them, too much of this will get into the
papers."
Bianchi nodded. "I see. Is there anything else you can tell me about
these two?"
"No, that's all Barrington has been able to find out."
"And it's only these two you wish me to deal with?"
"There's a third." He handed Bianchi a slip of paper. "I haven't
decided what to do about that one yet. If we move, it will have to be
an accident; I'll let you know later about that."
"I see. So you wish me to find these two young men and then..."
"I want a permanent solution; I don't want to hear about them again,"
Hickock said. "Ever."
Bianchi nodded. "I don't blame you; it is what I would do, in the