Hollywood is an All Volunteer Army (26 page)

She looked me over. “Of course you are.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Only an American these days would set himself up as a Knight-errant.”

“Lydia, I work for money. I work for gain.”

“So did the Knights. It was only in their fantasies that they were romantic.”

“Well, even so, I hope you brought something to lay on.”

“I have the most luxuriant of cushions in the boat—along with our lunch. Why don't you go get them while I lie on the beach?” With that she laid down on the hot pebbles, beads of seawater evaporating off her naked form, as she brought her right leg up to a comfortable position, and placed her right arm across her eyes to shield them from the sun.

I retrieved everything from the boat in two trips. In the first one I brought the cushion.

“Thank god!” Lydia said. “You know, these pebbles are hard!” She smiled at me as she took the cushion, positioned it and laid back down. “Now go get the lunch, please. I'm starving.”

We feasted on feta and olives and bread, and cold, tender strips of lamb. She drank her wine and I drank the vodka she was kind enough to bring. Then we made love again in ways I will not describe as some memories are not for sharing. Then we napped in each other's arms.

When we awoke the sun was diminished but still brilliant and the sounds in our private bay were of the sea lapping the pebbles, the wind through the cypresses, and birds informing the air of their presence.

Lydia turned to me and said, “Nico, I enjoy being rich.”

“I'm glad.”

“It's not the same as a religion for me.”

“No, that would be disconcerting.”

“But I am devoted to it.”

“How so?”

“It is the condition of my life that I will protect fiercely.”

“Understood.”

“You are not against the Rich, are you?”

“I would not be ashamed to be called rich myself.”

“Then you are not for the redistribution of wealth.”

“Oh, I'm sure at one time or another we are all for the redistribution of wealth. As long as it is not our wealth.”

“So this little adventure we are on....”

“Has rewards for both of us. Not the least being the adventure itself.”

“Something money can't buy.”

“That's right. Chaos is free.”

Lydia looked out to sea. I followed her gaze. Was she watching the simplicity of her boat bobbing in the bay, or the complexity of an oncoming bank of clouds? Did they hold rain—or would they just pass, magnificent ships of the sky both craft and sail, graceful and haughty? Uncertainty. Certain people relished it.

She turned to me and I turned to face her. “I have done as you asked. The information is in my files. Also my husband's bankers are informed, paid, and will cooperate.”

“And your husband?”

“I do not need to ask him. He grants me anything I want. He is an ugly little toad of a man, but generous, deeply generous.”

“Do you, by any chance, love him?”

“Aaa, he satisfies on—”

“Alternate Tuesdays. Yes, I know, but that was not my question.”

She looked out to sea again. A simple smile crossed her face, and she stated, as a simple fact, “He is dear to me.”

“Will you ever show him that?”

“Aaa, probably not. He has too much power as it is.” She stood up quickly and started to gather things up. “Nico, the sun is telling us it is time to go.”

I stood up and began to help her.

“There is a little bit of cheese left. Do you want it?” she asked.

“No, thank you. I am quite satiated.”

She grabbed the chunk of it. “Then let us cast our feta to the wind!” She crumbled the cheese in her hand then tossed it up for a short flight before then rained back down on us. We laughed again.

“Not quite your usual libation to the Gods,” I said as I brushed some off my shoulders, “but I like it, my sweet Greek.”

Lydia grabbed me and kissed me. Then I returned the compliment.

The next day was a day spent in Kassiópi proper, wandering around in the town, joining the local inhabitants milling in the sun. Lydia was greeted by many with smiles and shouts, she was a star here, but also a well-liked neighbor. “I have been a benefactor to this town,” she said by way of explanation.

“Did you grow up around here?” I asked.

“No. Down south in Kávos. I couldn't spend time there. There I am still Iphigeneia Venizelos. It is a typical story. Nothing to speak of.”

“I see.”

“And where are you still somebody not named Fixxer?” She tried to slip it in.

“Is this a good place for lunch?” I asked, closing the chink.

It was. Excellent seafood. We sat at an outdoor table overlooking the bay of fishing boats. I discussed the schedule for the next week, and the particular things we would have to be prepared to talk about. Lydia listened carefully and took it all in, very serious, very professional.

The helicopter arrived that afternoon and took Lydia away. I decided to get one more full day of rest in, then the helicopter would be back to fetch me. I eventually would meet Lydia in Athens, from where we would start our trip to Los Angeles. “Evidence” would be left behind confirming that Elsworth Henderson spent the week in Athens conferring with his client.

~ * ~

That evening I called Hamo in London.

“Well, is Robert Pye a rotting corpse, or was he found?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, he was found—rotten if not rotting. He's currently a guest of our National Health Service, and a daily feature in our tabloids. He and the woman are being called, ‘The Bank & Bunk Mates.' As we had hoped, she went looking for him at the house when he did not arrive for work. I guess she thought, or so the tabloids have indicated, that he might have been there with another woman.”

“You mean, besides his wife?”

“Yes, she went looking for evidence of
Uber-
adultery.”

“
Uber-
adultery?”

“That's what I call it when you cheat on the woman you are cheating on your wife with.”

“Did you just make that up?”

“No, actually, I coined the term in 1981 during a period of unfortunate self-analysis. You must understand, Fixxer, I was younger then and full of excess energy.”

“Since dissipated, I trust.”

“Long gone, I'm afraid. Only enough juice left for proper morals. Anyway she found him cute as a bug curled up on the bathroom floor snoring away. When she couldn't wake him she panicked and called in the emergency people. Of course, after that, there was nothing to hide behind.”

“And as to the mysterious disease?”

“Well, that's getting a little play, yes, but it's just not as sexy as sex, you see.”

“Well, what is? Any press connection with Pye's ailment and a similar one suffered by a minor motion picture executive in Hollywood, California?”

“Not a word, but I'm keeping my eye on that.”

“And George?”

“Well....”

There was a disquieting pause.

“Hamo? Talk to me.”

“George has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Off the face of the Earth, I'm afraid. Sorry, Fixxer, I had assumed he would be easy to keep track of. Several of these American thugs working here, bit of an expat community they've got for themselves. They're not hard to keep tabs on, but no one has seen him, actually, no one even knows of him. I think he was new to the area. I think Pye had been his only employer, probably imported George, not wanting a connection with the local thugs, bad for his image and all that. I guess George is back home in America.”

“America's a big place.”

“Yes, sorry about that.”

“Well, I would have loved to have kept him in our viewfinder, but.... How about the briefcases?”

“Done. They'll be waiting for you at Heathrow. The cameras are digital and fitted inside the shell of the cases, the batteries also. The whole thing is camouflaged against prying eyes and x-rays.”

“The lens?”

“Micro, of course, looks out of one of the twin holes on the lock where the key goes in.”

“And the transmitter?”

“It's one whole side of the case, also camouflaged.”

“All right. Fine.”

“As to the last thing you requested....”

“Yes?”

“Sorry. Drew a blank. Couldn't find this Gilgamesh Paul anywhere. Don't know if he ever made it over to this side of the Atlantic.”

“Too bad.”

“Been on the hunt long?”

“Long enough.”

“Maybe there are times when one should just give it up.”

“You sound like Roee.”

“Well, Fixxer, an obsession—”

“It is not an obsession.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Your efforts are appreciated, nonetheless, Hamo. Thanks for everything.”

“My pleasure, Fixxer. Always has been, you know. Always will be.”

~ * ~

I spent the next day in various forms of sleep. Normal lazy napping in the sun, of course, but also some deep relaxation sleep I use as the ultimate restorative. It bothered the hell out of Helen. I think she thought something mystical was going on.

I woke up early the next morning. Helen prepared a hot breakfast and took one last look at my head and face. She spat satisfaction in her healing, and, I must admit, very little trace of my banking problems was evident. The helicopter came and Helen walked me up to the roof, carrying my bags at her insistence. I said good-bye in the little Greek I had managed to pick up. Suddenly she burst into tears, grabbed me and started wailing. I had no way to assure her that my leaving was not quite the tragedy she was making it out to be, so I shed a few tears myself—a natural talent I have—and lamented enough to make her feel good. She continued to wave from the roof of the villa for a good long time as the helicopter ascended and Corfu dropped away.

~ * ~

I met up with Lydia in Athens and we took the ten AM flight to London in order to catch Virgin Atlantic flight 007 to Los Angeles. At Heathrow I retrieved the briefcases from baggage claim using the claim tickets Hamo had jet-packed to Lydia. I made her carry one, which she was not happy about. I picked up some copies of the tabloids that still featured stories about “The Bank & Bunk Mates” for the amusement of Roee, and we boarded the plane.

I maintained the presence of Elsworth Henderson throughout the flight, which very much annoyed Lydia. A stiff, humorless east coast lawyer whose vision was attuned mainly to numbers that crunched and added up, who was precise in his movements, neat in his habits, and whose contractual mind had managed to allow just enough room for love of family and a passion for golf, was not her ideal traveling companion. She tried her best to break me, like an American tourist trying to get a smile from a guard at St. James Palace, but to no avail. Finally, using the ruse of grabbing for a magazine, she groped me. Elsworth, quite rightly, enumerated the sexual harassment laws in America and asked her, in a quiet whisper, to keep her filthy little Greek hands to herself. Lydia exploded in laughter, startling passengers, attendants and, most likely, the pilot, for, I swear, the plane took a dip. She opened the magazine vowing to get back at me. In my last whisper, I told her I looked forward to it.

We arrived at LAX just after three. Roee as Pinsker in his Brooks Brothers suit was there to greet us with the limo. We took it to the Hotel Bel-Air where Pinsker had been staying for the last week and where we now checked in. Pinsker and Henderson shared a garden suite; Lydia had one to herself. We unpacked, showered, then left for a planned dinner out on the town, but, of course, Roee and I took Lydia home so that we could speak in more private surroundings.

“Newsstand Mike is waiting for us,” Roee announced on the way. “He has a report.”

“We couldn't have met him somewhere else? Was it wise to have him at home?”

“Fixxer, you made him part of the team. I trust him. I restricted his access to certain rooms, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Plus he got a bit roughed up on the assignment. I felt he was owed a little care.”

“How bad?”

“A dislocated shoulder and a cracked rib. I've got him resting comfortably. He'll be okay. Norton sent over Dr. Stone.”

“What about his report?”

“You'll find it more than interesting,” Roee said as the limo pulled into our building on Wilshire.