F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (43 page)

           
He looked at her. She was beautiful.
In the dim light, despite the jeans and loose sweater she was wearing, she
reminded him more of her sister than ever. But she was obviously tense. She sat
across the tiny circular table, nervously twirling a key ring on her index
finger. And she was asking him for advice. He tried to organize his
vodka-muddled thoughts.

           
"As I see it, you've got two
choices. You can get out of the city and put as much distance as you can
between this guy and yourself." For selfish reasons, Ed didn't like that
idea. It meant he wouldn't get to see her anymore. "
Or
… you could take the bull by the horns and go to the State Board
of Medical Examiners and demand a complete investigation of this man's record
keeping and practice methods."

           
She was staring at him with those
big blue eyes. They were hypnotizing.

           
"What do
you
think I should do?"

           
"I think you've got the courage
and integrity to take this to the State and protect others as well as yourself.
That's what I think you should do."

           
She put her hand on his and squeezed
as the last call came from the bar.

           
"Thanks for your confidence,
but I'm still not sure. Is there someplace we can talk about this some more?"

           
"There's my place." The
words just popped out, but Ed was glad they did. "We can talk there as
long as you want."

           
"That sounds perfect. Let's
go."

           
With that she was up and heading
toward the door. With an excited, anticipatory tingle in his groin, Ed dropped
some money on the table and hurried after her.

           
Rob had stopped off at Midtown
North, grabbed the effects bag from Doyle, and run out. As he raced east to
First Avenue and then uptown, he shook Kelly's apartment keys free of the
tangle within and had them ready when he slammed to a halt in front of her building.

           
Out of instinctive courtesy, he
rapped on the door and waited a couple of seconds before unlocking it and
rushing inside. Main room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—all empty. No sign of
struggle, just empty.

           
Where the hell could Kara be?

           
A chilling thought struck him: What
if it wasn't Kara out there roaming the city? What if it was Janine?

           
Or worse yet: What if this Ed
Bannion character was some sort of head case who had lured her someplace
tonight with the intent of seeing that she ended up like her sifter?

           
Rob had to find Bannion. But how? He
had his office number but no one would answer at this hour. And the morning
might be too late.

           
Rob grabbed Kelly's Manhattan white
pages thumbed them open to the
B's
.
He found
Bannion
. There was a truckload
of them. Limiting himself to the
E
or
Edward

           
Bannions
narrowed it down some, but there were still plenty.

           
He sat down by the phone and began
calling.

           
As you inspect Ed Bannion's Upper
West Side apartment through Kara's eyes, you think of how the night has been
little more than a series of shocks, one after the other.

           
The first shock was the early
morning phone call at Kara's apartment from someone called Ed who said he had
startling information about Dr. Gates. That simple statement forced you to
cancel all your plans for returning to the Helmsley tonight. You've been
playing the rest by ear.

           
The second shock came when you
recognized Ed Bannion as one of the brothers from the Plaza the night Kelly
went through the window. Ed was the one on his knees behind you at the end,
doing you from the rear. The one who bit you.

           
You masked your surprise then, but
you nearly gave yourself away when Ed Bannion dropped the bombshell: that your
office had been invaded, your computer security breached, and that you had
walked right past the culprit less than an hour ago without suspecting a thing.

           
You wander the bleached hardwood
floors of Bannion's apartment while the owner uses the bathroom. You inspect
the glass and chrome tables, the Italian leather sectional. The man has no
taste. There's no theme, no harmony, no personality to the decor. These are
just
things
he's bought. They have no
meaning to him beyond the fact that they are considered the right things to
have. It's as if he furnished the place with random snippets from the
"Home" section of the Thursday

           
Times
,
An empty man living an empty life in an apartment filled with
things
, whose only passion has been the
job which obviously bores him to tears now. Else why would he have tried the
hair-brained stunt of breaking and entering tonight?

           
Taking over Kara Wade has engendered
a Gordian knot of complications, but you aren't ready to surrender this
wonderful body yet. You eye a set of carving knives jutting from a block of
teak on the kitchen counter. Alexander the Great's abrupt and efficient method
for unsnarling stubborn knots comes to mind.

           
You examine the knives, and choose
the one with the longest, thinnest blade, then hurry into the bedroom and shove
it under the bed. You're standing by the picture window when Bannion returns.
He sways slightly as he crosses to the bar and begins to make himself another
drink.

           
"Do you really think you should
have another, Ed?" you say, kicking off Kara's shoes and moving languidly
across the room.

           
You're thinking that if Bannion
doesn't get too drunk, you might yet salvage something out of this night.

           
"I'm celebrating."

           
Gently, you take the bottle from
Bannion's hands and put Kara's arms around him.

           
"You don't need to get drunk to
celebrate. As a matter of fact, that could interfere with the kind of
celebration I have planned."

           
You watch a flush creep up Bannion's
cheeks.

           
"Wh—what kind of celebration is
that?"

           
"The kind of celebration that
happens when a very grateful girl is alone with a brave man she admires very
much and finds very attractive."

           
"This isn't necessary."

           
"Yes it is."

           
You back up a step and pull off the
sweater to reveal Kara's breasts.

           
"Do you like them? Touch
them."

           
Bannion's mouth is hanging open as
he stares at you. He seems paralyzed. So you lift his hands and place them on
her breasts.

           
"That feels good, Ed. Rub
them."

           
Bannion is getting into it now.
Kara's jeans are the next to go. They're loose and fall to the floor when
they're unbuttoned. You step back again and spread your arms.

           
"What do you think of this
body, Ed? Isn't it glorious?"

           
"It's fabulous!"

           
"Yes, it is. And now I want to
see your body, Ed. But only a little bit at a time." You kneel before him
and unzip his fly. "We'll start with this area here."

           
Ed was dimly aware that a small part
of his brain was very upset, was shouting at him, in fact. But he couldn't make
out the words through the fog. A warm fog, a haze of vodka lit by bright red
glowing waves of pleasure rippling over him.

           
Kara was so much like her sister
Kelly, so
much
like Kelly, she even
gave head like Kelly, and now she was on her hands and knees on the bed, facing
away from him, and he was standing behind her, sliding in and out of her doggy
style. Almost a replay on that night in the Plaza a couple of weeks ago, except
there was no black garter belt to hold on to, and Phil wasn't here and Ed had
her all to himself.

           
Maybe it was because this was so
much like the night at the Plaza that the worry-wart corner of his brain was so
upset. But after all, Kara and Kelly were identical twins. Why shouldn't they
be exactly alike?

           
Well, they weren't
exactly
alike. Kara's body was firmer,
the flesh more taut, better toned. He thought that in a pinch, if given the
choice, he might prefer Kelly's slightly thicker layer of padding, but either
way it was a no-lose proposition.

           
Kara turned her head and looked at
him over her shoulder.

           
"Do it faster! And harder! I
want to
come
, damn it!"

           
A chill ran over his bare skin as
she bucked her buttocks hard against him. Something about that sounded so
familiar.

           
She turned her head again. She
smiled.

           
"And this time, don't bite
me."

           
The words struck him like the shock
wave of an atomic bomb detonating on the bed. He felt himself shrivel. As he
fell limp from within her, he backed away until his buttocks came up against
the cold surface of the bureau. His mouth worked, trying to speak. How could
she know? No one could know that but Kelly. Not even Phil knew that he'd bitten
her. Ed had been ashamed to tell him.

           
She sat on the edge and looked at
him. Her stare made him want to cover himself. He had been naked for a while,
but now he felt like a specimen in a jar.

           
"Well, Ed Bannion," she
said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. "What are we going to do
with you?"

           
"Who are you?" Ed said,
whispering as well.

           
"I've got many names, Ed.
You've met me before, but I told you then that my name was Ingrid."

           
"No! That's not possible!
You're lying!"

           
"Am I? You were with your
brother. His name was Phil or Bill or something like that. You said you were in
the textile business. You lied to me. That wasn't nice. And you bit me. That
caused all sorts of complications."