Sullivan's sting

34

The rain ended during the early morning hours. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass, salt sea.

Theodore mopped up puddles on the terrace and turned the cushions. Rita and David had breakfast out there: grapefruit juice, toasted raisin bread with guava shells and cream cheese, coffee laced with cinnamon.

"I forgot to tell you," Rita said. "I came home early, and the phone in your office was ringing. Why don't you put your office phone on the regular line so someone can take messages when you're out?"

"I don't want to mix my private life with business," he said, smiling at her. "If it's important, they'll call back. Probably one of my clients."

"That Birdie Winslow you mentioned?"

"Oh, did I mention her? Yes, it probably was. She demands a lot of attention. Really more trouble than she's worth. I may have to drop her."

"How old is she?"

"Older than you, believe me. And heavier. Much, much heavier."

"Pretty?"

He fluttered a hand back and forth. "So-so. Passable, but not my type."

"Who is your type?"

"You. How many times do I have to tell you?" "I never get tired of hearing it," she said, squeezing his arm. 4 4 What're your plans for today?"

"I have to see my travel agent. I've got to go to England for a few days. Tomorrow if I can get a flight."

"Me, too?"

"Nope. Not this time."

"'That's what you said last time."

4"You'll get your chance," he assured her. "Maybe sooner than you think. We'll have to visit Irving Donald Gevalt and get you fixed up with ID and a passport."

"Why can't I use my real name?"

"I don't think that would be wisfe," he said.

He spent the morning in his office, reviewing the accounts of his clients and drawing up a schedule of investments each would make in the Fort Knox Commodity Trading Fund. Birdie Winslow called shortly before noon.

"I phoned you all day yesterday," she complained. "I suppose you were gallivanting around."

"I wish I had been," Rathbone said. "But I had to attend a seminar in Boca on zero-coupon bonds. Very dull stuff."

"Can we have lunch today?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said. "I have a luncheon appointment with a Palm Beach banker. He's probably on his way here right now, so I can't cancel."

"Then how about dinner?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm flying to Germany tonight. Just for a few days. Maybe we can get together when I get back."

"David, you're not avoiding me, are you?"

"Of course not. It's just that I've been so busy. Making money is hard work, you know."

"Uh-huh. Well, I have something very important to talk to you about. I could come over to your office."

"Oh, it's in such a mess right now," he said, "I'd hate to have you see it. Tell you what: I have to stop at my travel agent after lunch to pick up my ticket. Suppose I come by your apartment for a short time at about three o'clock."

"Divine!" she said. "I'll have your vodka gimlet all ready for you."

"Wonderful," he said.

He had lunch with Jimmy Bartlett at an outdoor cafe on the Waterway. They sat at an umbrella table and watched the big boats coming south for the winter.

"I had a visit from Termite Tommy," Rathbone said. "He claims the German doesn't want to engrave new plates for the bills. Says his hands aren't steady enough. Which is probably true; the old guy was half in the bag when I met him in Lakeland."

"So the deal is off?"

"Not yet. The printer wants to buy one of those new color laser copiers, an office machine. He says it does beautiful work. Sharper than the original. If he can use his self-destruct paper to pick up copies of twenties and fifties, we're in business."

"Worth a try," Bartlett said. "Even if it's a half-ass reproduction. We're going to salt it in with the drug cash anyhow. And from what you say, it'll disintegrate before anyone has a chance to spot it as queer."

"Right. But I told Tommy to bring me a sample before I go ahead on this."

"He still thinks you're going to deposit the funny money in bank accounts?"

"That's what he thinks. Which brings me to our big problem. To get this thing rolling, I had to promise

Termite Tommy a third and the printer a third. But that would leave only a third for you and me to split. Not enough, considering the risk we're running."

"I agree. And the idea was ours."

"Yours. The German is the producer and worth a third. But Tommy is just a go-between, a messenger. He's not contributing anything. So the problem is how to cut him out of the loop."

"Finished your lunch?" Bartlett said. "Then let's move to the bar and have a real drink."

They sat close together at the thatched bar and ordered margaritas.

"What kind of a guy is this Tommy?" Bartlett asked.

"A boozer," Rathbone said. "A natural-born loser. I thought he was out on parole or probation, and it would be easy to set up a frame and send him back to the clink for a while. But now I find out he served his full time. So, as they say, he's paid his debt to society and he's home free."

"He could still be framed," Jimmy observed. "It doesn't have to be anything heavy; just get him sent back for a year or two. Our operation isn't going to last any longer than that."

"I know," David said, "but there's another factor. The guy's psychopathic about going back behind bars. I'm afraid that if he's even arrested for speeding, he'll rat to save his ass. Then I'm down the tube."

Bartlett looked at him with a crooked smile. "And if you go, I go-is that what you're saying?"

"Something like that," Rathbone admitted.

From where they sat they could watch an enormous yacht moving slowly toward the Atlantic Boulevard bridge. There was a small helicopter lashed to the top deck, and on the afterdeck two older men in white flannels and blue blazers were horsing around with three tanned young women in bikinis. They all had drinks, and their laughter carried across the Waterway.

"From the way you describe it," Bartlett said, "there's only one solution."

The bridge rose, the shining yacht disappeared down the Intracoastal.

The two men turned to stare at each other.

"Let me ask around," Jimmy said.

"How much would it cost?" Rathbone asked in a low voice.

"Not much," Bartlett said.

They finished their drinks in silence, rose, lifted hands to each other, and separated. Rathbone returned to his car and lighted a Winston. He was startled to see that his fingers were trembling slightly. He smoked slowly, and by the time the cigarette was finished, his jits had disappeared. He drove two blocks to his travel agent.

He could have saved money by flying directly to San Jose from Miami. But he elected to go first to San Juan, then to Panama City, and finally to Costa Rica. He reasoned that if, for some reason, he was dogged, it would be easy to spot a tail making the same plane changes he did. He had learned to trust his instincts, and right now they were telling him to play it cozy.

"Need a hotel room in San Jose?" the agent asked.

"No," Rathbone said, "I'm staying with friends."

He glanced at his gold Rolex, saw it was time to be heading for Birdie Winslow's apartment. He considered bringing her a gift, then decided not to; it would be smart to chill that relationship.

She met him at the door wearing lounging pajamas in psychedelic colors that made him blink. She threw her meaty arms about him in a close embrace that stifled him.

"You bad boy!" she cried. "Never home when I phone. Never come to see me."

"I've really been busy, Birdie," he said. "And then this trip to Spain came up unexpectedly."

"I thought you said you're going to Germany."

"Spain and Germany. And I haven't even started packing yet. So I'm afraid I can't stay very long. You said you had something important to talk about."

"Something very important," she said. "But first you sit yourself down, and I'll serve you a vodka gimlet just the way you like it."

This one had two ice cubes, but he postponed tasting it, fearing the worst.

"Now then," he said, "what's this all about?"

"Come over here and sit near me," she said, patting the couch cushion. "You're so far away."

Obediently he heaved himself out of the armchair where he had hopefully sought refuge and sat next to her. She put a heavy hand on his knee.

"David, you told me you live in this cramped one-bedroom apartment, and today you mentioned how messy your office is. I really don't like this apartment all that much, and my lease will be up in a few months. So my wonderful idea is this: Why don't the two of us take an apartment together? A really big place with enough room for your office and a nice living room and terrace where we could do a lot of entertaining. I think it would be fun, don't you?"

He lifted his drink slowly and swallowed half, not tasting it.

"Birdie," he said, "that's a heavy decision to make. You know, we're the best of friends now, but living together is something entirely different. I've known couples who have tried it, and within a week or so they're at each other's throat."

"I just know that could never happen with us because we get along so well together. David, you're not involved with anyone else right now, are you?" 44Oh no," he said. 44No, nothing like that." 44Well, there you are! You're by your lonesome and so am I-which is really silly when you think about it. I mean paying two rents and keeping two kitchens and all. If we lived together, we could share the rent and have this fabulous big apartment we could decorate just the way we want it. What do you think?"

He finished his drink. 4'Birdie, first of all I want to thank you for suggesting it. It's quite a compliment to me. But I'm not sure we could make a go of it. Sometimes I work till midnight and even later. I have clients visiting and business meetings in my office. I even-" 44Oh, I'd respect your privacy," she interrupted. 4 4You don't have to worry about that. And we could have all your friends over for cocktail parties and dinners. I thought we might get a place right on the beach, with a terrace. And sometimes I'd make a nice, home-cooked meal when we didn't feel like going out. I'd even keep your office neat and all tidied up so you wouldn't be ashamed of it."

44You make it sound very attractive," he said, trying to smile. 44But as I said, it's a big decision, and I think we should both consider it very carefully and talk more about it before we make up our minds."

44Oh, I've already made up my mind," she said gaily. 44I think it would be divineV'

44Well, I promise you I'll give it very serious thought."

"And you'll let me know?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"Suppose we do this: When I get back from Europe, we'll get together and discuss it in more detail. Meanwhile, I promise you, I'll be thinking about it very, very carefully. Neither of us wants to rush into something we might regret later."

She swooped suddenly to kiss his lips. "I'd never regret it," she said breathlessly. "Never!"

He drove home recklessly, speeding, jumping lights, cutting off other cars. And steadily cursing as he frantically devised scenarios to finesse his way out of this outrageous complication.

He went directly to his office and revised his plan so that Birdie Winslow's total wealth would be invested in the Fort Knox Commodity Trading Fund. Then he sat back and tried to figure out how this new development would affect his schedule.

When Rita came home from work, he was seated on the terrace working on a big iced gimlet and staring out over the ocean.

"Where's my drink?" she demanded.

He looked at her a moment without replying. Then: "Remember this morning you asked when you were going on a trip with me, and I said it might be sooner than you think."

"Sure, I remember," Rita said. "So?"

"I was right. When I get back, we'll go to Gevalt and get you new ID and a passport."

"Whatever you say, boss," she said. "Now can I have a kiss and a drink, in that order?"

"Whatever you say, boss," he said, and felt better.