The Hot Rock

5

"New York is a lonely city, Linda," Greenwood said.

"Oh, it is," she said. "I know that, Alan." He had kept his first name, and his new last name also started with G, which was safe enough and very convenient.

Greenwood adjusted the pillow behind his head and clasped his arm tighter around the girl beside him. "When one meets a sympathetic soul in a city like this," he said, "one doesn't want to let go."

"Oh, I know what you mean," she said and snuggled more comfortably against him, her cheek resting against his bare chest, the covers warm over their bodies.

"That's why I hate it that I have to go out tonight," he said.

"Oh, I hate it too," she said.

"But how did I know a treasure like you would come into my life today? And now it's too late to change this other thing. I just have to go, that's all there is to it."

She lifted her head and studied his face. The artificial fireplace in the corner was the only source of light, and she peered at him in its uncertain red light. "Are you sure it isn't another girl?" she asked. She was trying to make the question light, but wasn't entirely succeeding.

He cupped her chin in his hand. "There is no other girl," he said. "Not anywhere in the world." He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I do want to believe you, Alan," she said. She looked sweet, and plaintive, and yearning.

"And I wish I was permitted to tell you where I am going," he said, "but I can't. I just ask you to trust me. And I should be back in no more than an hour."

She smiled, saying, "You couldn't do very much with another girl in an hour, could you?"

"Not when I want to save myself for you," he said and kissed her again.

After the kiss she murmured in his ear, "How much time do we have before you go?"

He had been squinting at the bedside clock over her shoulder, and he said, "Twenty minutes."

"Then there's time," she murmured, nibbling his ear, "to make doubly sure you won't forget me."

"Mmmmmm," he said, and the result was that when the doorbell sounded, one long, two short, one long, twenty minutes later, he wasn't finished dressing. "There they are," he said, tugging on his trousers.

"Hurry back to me, Alan," she said. She was stretching and wriggling under the covers.

He watched the covers moving and said, "Oh, I'll hurry, Linda. Don't you worry, I'll hurry." He kissed her, put on his jacket, and left the apartment.

Chefwick was waiting on the sidewalk. "You were quite some time," he said, gently chiding.

"You don't know the half of it," Greenwood said. "Which way?"

"This way."

Murch was at the wheel of his Mustang around the corner, parked by a fire hydrant. Chefwick and Greenwood got into the car, Chefwick in back, and Murch drove downtown to Varick Street, where all the office buildings had been shut down for hours. He parked across the street from the one they wanted, and Greenwood and Chefwick got out and went across the street. Greenwood stood watch while Chefwick opened the front door, and then they went in and up the stairs - the elevators not working now - to the fifth floor. They went down the hall, Greenwood lighting their way with a small pencil flash, until they found the door marked DODSON amp; FOGG, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. On the lower left corner of the frosted glass were five names, of which the second was E. ANDREW PROSKER.

Chefwick went through this door so fast it might as well not have been locked at all. Now they followed the map Prosker had drawn for them, finding Prosker's office amid the maze of cubbyholes, finding the furniture arranged as Prosker had said. Greenwood sat down at the desk, opened the bottom right-hand drawer all the way, and to the back was taped a small yellow envelope. Greenwood smiled and took the envelope and put the drawer back. He shook the envelope over the desk pad and a small key dropped out, looking exactly like the one Dortmunder had been given at the bank earlier today.

"We've got it," Greenwood said. "Isn't that amazing?"

"Perhaps our luck has changed," Chefwick said.

"And it's Friday the thirteenth. Fantastic."

"Not any longer, it's after midnight."

"It is? Let's go. Here, you'll give this to Dortmunder."

Chefwick put the key in his pocket and they left the office, Chefwick relocking doors on their route back to the street and Murch. They got in and Greenwood said, "Would you mind dropping me first? I've got a little something going on back at my place."

"It's perfectly all right with me," Chefwick said.

"Sure," said Murch. "Why not?"

They drove back uptown and let Greenwood off in front of his building and he took the elevator up to his apartment, where he found the girl sitting up in bed and reading a paperback James Bond book. She put the book away at once and switched off the bedside lamp, while Greenwood got rid of a lot of extraneous clothing and got back into bed beside her.

Softly she said, "Did everything go all right?"

"I'm back," he said simply.

She kissed his chest and looked up at him wickedly. "You're in the CIA, aren't you?" she said.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it," he said.

"Mmmmmm," she said and began to bite him all over.

"I love patriotic women," Greenwood murmured.