The buzzer sounded on my desk. Cursing, I crossed over and snapped down the switch.
‘Mr. Burden? This is the security guard. A messenger on a motorcycle, Jake Lamb, asking for you.’
I said to send him up, then returned to my typing.
Some five minutes later a girl brought Jake in. He stared around the luxurious office, his eyes popping.
‘Doing yourself pretty well, aren’t you, Mr. Burden?’ he said.
‘Not so bad.’ I gave him the passports. ‘Get these back with the visas as quick as you can, Jake. It’s an emergency.’
‘Sure. Miss Harkness told me,’ and he winked at me.
As I led him to the door where the girl was waiting I pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand.
When he had gone, I completed one of the schedules and was starting on another when Val came in. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark skirt, and looked wonderful.
‘I’ve ordered sandwiches and martinis,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll take over.’
‘Fine. I’ll fix the flights.’
I moved out of her chair.
‘Not cross with me any longer, darling?’
‘No, of course not.’
She sat down. ‘I’ve often thought of this moment Clay, when we would work together again. Do you like your office?’
I sat down at my desk, aware we were wasting time.
As I lifted the receiver, I said, ‘Marvellous. If only Dyer hadn’t left us with such a pile of urgent work...’
There came a tap on the door and a flunkey entered wheeling a trolley on which stood two silver covers, a big cocktail shaker and glasses.
‘All right, Ferdy,’ Val said. ‘We’ll help ourselves.’
When he had gone, she got up and poured drinks while I talked to Pan-Am.
‘I’m hungry,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come and eat Clay,’ and she look the covers of neatly cut sandwiches.
‘Let’s eat while we work,’ I said.
‘I can’t eat and type at the same time. I’ll get everything greasy, and you can’t talk on the phone and eat at the same time. Don’t be difficult Clay. Come and eat.’
I gave up. So if these damn V.I.P.s didn’t take off, it was just too bad. If Val didn’t realise the amount of work we had to do before I went home then, that was also too bad.
I joined her at the trolley and took a double martini-gin from her.
‘Here’s to us, darling,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘It’s fun. Isn’t it?’
I drank half the cocktail at a gulp and immediately felt better and hungry. We began eating the caviar and smoked salmon sandwiches.
‘God! It’s been endless... this waiting,’ she said. ‘I thought Monday would never come, didn’t you?’
‘You can say that again.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Val, we must have extra help. We need a leg-man to handle the visas and do the odd jobs. I’ve spoken to Lucas and he says I must speak to Vidal. Can you fix it?’
‘Henry won’t like it. The man will have to be paid.’
‘You can’t expect to get him for nothing.’ Again I felt a wave of irritation run through me. She was treating this too casually.
‘I’ll talk to Lucas. He’s not cooperative.’
‘Look, Val, if you can’t fix it, we can’t handle this job. It’s as simple as that.’
‘We won’t need visas every day surely?’
‘There will be other things for him to do. We must have an outside man.’
‘You’re not eating, darling.’
I finished my martini.
‘I’ve had enough,’ and I returned to my desk.
‘Clay...’
I paused as I reached for the telephone.
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t get so worked up. We’ll manage.’
‘If you really want me with you, Val,’ I said speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘we’ve not only got to manage, but we’ve got to have a leg-man!’
I then dialled North-Eastern airlines and asked for Reservations.
‘Would you think I was terribly greedy if I had some more sandwiches?’ she said. ‘They’re marvellous, aren’t they?’ She poured herself another martini. ‘Do have some more, darling. You’ve scarcely eaten anything.’
I was too exasperated to speak. I couldn’t even took at her.
Then the booking clerk came on the line.
This was a hell of a beginning, I thought as I held on while he checked the flight. Was it going to work? Had she allowed me to kiss her, to hold her in my arms for a brief moment, maybe I wouldn’t have been in such a frustrated rage, but that and the fact she was so casual and calm about the mountain of work facing us made me wish to God I was back in the quiet Spanish Bay hotel office with Sue efficiently coping.
Val was still eating a sandwich when I had concluded talking to the clerk. I had Pan-Am, B.O.A.C., and Swiss Air still to call. As I dialled Pan-Am I said, ‘For God’s sake, Val! Do get started! Look at the time! It’s after three!’
Her eyes widened as she picked up another sandwich.
‘What’s making you so nervy Clay? Please don’t shout at me like this. I don’t like it.’
I eased my collar that was choking me.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. We must get on with this work!’
The Pan-Am man came on the line and I gave him names and times.
She finished the sandwich, wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and, carrying her martini, went to her desk. She began to type.
Even as I was making the reservations, I was aware that she was pecking and hunting. In the past, she had been the fastest typist I had ever had, making her typewriter sound like an exploding machine gun. This hesitant tap-tap-tap gave me a feeling of panicky despair. At her rate of typing the schedules would take a week to finish! Even I could type four times as fast and I was no typist. I completed my order with Pan-Am, then looked up B.O.A.C.’s telephone number, still listening to the painfully slow tap-tap-tap. Then suddenly she said, ‘Oh, hell!’ loudly, stared at what she had typed, ripped out the five sheets of paper, crumpled them and threw them violently into her trash basket.
‘Don’t keep staring at me! You’re making me nervous.’ she said furiously. ‘I haven’t touched a typewriter for six years... what do you expect?’
‘Let’s change places,’ I said, beginning to get desperate. ‘You book the flights and I’ll do the typing.’
‘I’m damned if I will!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You do your job! I’ll do mine!’
We were glaring at each other when the door opened silently and a man came in.
To say he startled me was an understatement. He looked like a cheap gangster straight out of an old Bogart movie. He had on a grey suit with thick black stripes, a white slouch hat, a black shirt and a white tie. If that wasn’t old hat enough, to add to the picture were his long black sideboards, his blue chin and a phony diamond stick pin. He looked like a thug you see in newspaper cartoons.
But he was no joke. There was a deadly stillness about him that increased my heartbeat. His flat, snake’s eyes, his small lipless mouth told me as nothing else could that this man, standing in the doorway, was as lethal and as dangerous as a black mamba.
His little eyes moved over me with a contemptuous indifference that was an insult, then he slightly turned his head on his thick bull-like neck and found Val. He moved to her desk and dropped an envelope before her.
‘The Boss says to fix it pronto.’
He had a voice like a fall of gravel.
Turning on his heels, he moved out of the room the way a snake moves, swiftly and in complete silence. The door closed behind him.
I looked at Val. Her face was as white as a fresh fall of snow.
The buzzer of my intercom made me start. I snapped down the switch.
‘Burden...’
It was Dyer.
‘I’m sending up a brief, old boy. Terribly sorry. I should have handled it last week. Went clean out of my mind. Mr. Wernstein has just arrived at the Spanish Bay hotel. Mr. Vidal promised him some deep-sea fishing. Lay on a boat and a crew for him, will you? It’s all in the brief.’