Fast and Loose

37

Jake was awakened early on Saturday morning by an insistent Velma. They had dined well the evening before, and had adjourned to Jake’s room, where they had done things to each other twice, before rendering each other unconscious.

“It’s Saturday,” Velma said. “No work.”

“You mean there’s nobody at the office?”

“Nobody works Saturdays since St. Clair died.”

“That’s good news,” Jake muttered.

“Why?” Velma asked.

Jake thought about that for a moment. “Because you don’t have to be there, and you can fuck me again.”

“How nice you put it, Jake,” Velma replied, rolling him over and climbing on. “And I’m going to want eggs Benedict after you’re helpless again.”

“Deal,” Jake said, then did his duty.

Jake rang Macher’s bell at mid-morning, and his boss was awake and dressed. “Come in here and see this,” he said to Jake.

On the dressing table in Macher’s bedroom was a chunk of plastic explosive the size of a brick, with a burner cell phone taped to it. “No telltale wires,” Macher said. “Entirely self-contained.”

“Very pretty,” Jake said, “but are you going to need that much of the plastic stuff? That could bring the building down, couldn’t it?”

“Not likely,” Macher replied, “but who gives a shit?”

“Velma says the coast is clear on Saturdays — nobody works weekends since St. Clair went away. Oh, she says the board is meeting to sell the company at noon on Monday.”

“And I’ve still got my keys to the building,” Macher said. “Nobody relieved me of them, and I’ll bet money they haven’t changed the alarm code, either.”

“When do you want to do it?” Jake asked.

“As soon as we’ve had a nice brunch,” Macher said.

Stone, Marisa, Charley, and Kaley were having a Saturday brunch in the Carlyle Hotel dining room, eggs Benedict and mimosas for everybody.

“You two are looking very self-satisfied,” Kaley said.

“I think the word describes us very well,” Stone replied.

“Why so happy?” Marisa asked.

“Charley has done good work,” Stone said.

“So have we all,” Charley replied.

“What have you done?”

“We have pulled off a coup that wouldn’t have been possible without Charley,” Stone said. “We’ve bought all the assets of a company called St. Clair Enterprises.”

“That guy who tried to buy us out of our clinic?” Marisa asked.

“One and the same.”

“And a yacht,” Charley said, “and a gorgeous house.”

“Yacht, where?” Marisa asked.

“The yacht is in Rockland, Maine,” Stone said, “a stone’s throw from your own fine vessel. And this one doesn’t need sails to sail.”

“A stinkpot?”

“It’s very beautiful, don’t call it names.”

“And when do we get to sail aboard her?”

“How about next weekend? Everybody up for that?”

Affirmative noises were made by all.

“And where’s the house?” Kaley asked.

“Not a dozen blocks from where we sit,” Charley said. “Would you like to see it?”

“How do we get in?” Stone asked.

“I still have my keys, and I’ll bet they haven’t changed the alarm code, and nobody will be there on a Saturday, because both St. Clair and Macher have gone.”

“Check!” Stone called to their waiter.

Jake checked out the block while Macher found a parking spot. No security guards, and no one stirring in the building. Macher appeared from around a corner, and Jake waved him on.

They were inside in a moment, and Macher let them into the library.

“Where are you going to put it?” Jake asked.

Macher looked around the room. “The wood box, next to the fireplace,” he said. It was an antique box of rusting iron. “It will make wonderful shrapnel.”

Jake opened the box and found it full of firewood.

“Stack it neatly next to the fireplace, and don’t make a mess, somebody might notice,” Macher commanded.

Jake did as he was instructed.

Macher removed the device from a shopping bag and checked its connections. He read the number from a label taped to the back of the phone and entered the number into his own burner, setting it to speed dial when the number nine was pressed. “There,” he said, “we’re all set. I can call this phone from anywhere in the world by just pushing a button.”

“Swell,” Jake said. “Now can we get out of here?”

“I need to run upstairs to my apartment for a moment,” Macher said. “I left my razor in the bathroom.”

“Your razor? You can get one at any drugstore.”

“Not like this one. It’s a straight razor, with a blade of Damascus steel and an ivory handle. I had it made in Istanbul, eight hundred bucks. I hope to God one of those security guys didn’t cop it.” Macher handed Jake his car keys. “The car is around the block, in the next street. You bring it around while I get my razor.”

“Okay,” Jake said, then left.

Macher took the elevator to the top floor and let himself into the apartment and looked around. The heat was running, and it was hot in the room. The bed had been stripped and the place cleaned by the maids. He wished that he had had the chance to take the pictures with him. Christian had had superb taste in art, and Macher knew nothing about it. He made his way to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. There it was, where he’d left it. He put the razor into his jacket pocket and started to leave. As he opened the door, he heard voices downstairs. Who the hell could that be on a Saturday? He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

Charley let them into the house amid oohs and aahs in the marble entryway. “You folks go and see the library, up there,” Charley said, pointing to the double doors. “I want to show Kaley my apartment.” They started up the stairs.

Stone opened the double doors.

“Oh, this is magnificent,” Marisa said, looking around. “When was this house built?”

“My guess would be in the twenties,” Stone said. “Lots of money around then and not much in taxes. Some robber baron must have built it to show the world how rich he was.” They browsed among the books.

At the top of the stairs Charley saw the open door. “I’m glad the maids have been in,” he said. “I don’t have a key for this door yet.” He led Kaley into the apartment and they stood, admiring the finely carved fireplace and the pictures on the walls.

“That’s a Picasso,” Kaley said, pointing, “and that’s a Matisse.”

“Wow,” Charley said, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the sofa. “Hot in here. Will you open a window? I need to use the john.”

Kaley opened one of the French doors leading to an outside balcony, and fresh autumn air poured in. Then she followed him into the bedroom. Charley was walking into the bathroom.

Charley had just stepped onto the marble floor when a figure in dark clothes and a cloth cap appeared before him, wearing a handkerchief tied over his face. His first thought was a Western movie he had seen as a child. Then the figure swung an arm, and he felt a searing pain across his abdomen. His hand went to the wound automatically, and it was warm and wet. The figure brushed past him, and he heard Kaley scream before he collapsed onto the bathroom floor, blood pooling around him.

He heard heels on marble and Kaley shouting his name.