I stared helplessly at the intercom. I was still trying to recover from the gangsters visit.
Val suddenly appeared at my desk.
‘Dyer!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘You handle it! Understand? We’re too busy to bother with fishing boats! You forgot it... you fix it!’ and leaning past me, she snapped up the switch.
We looked at each other. Faint colour was back in her cheeks, but her eyes were panicky.
‘Who was that?’ I said and nodded to the door.
‘Guilio Gesetti. One of my husband’s hatchet men... that’s what they’re called, aren’t they?’ Her voice was shaking. ‘The man who threw acid I told you about. The man who would kill us both if my husband gave him the nod.’
My mouth turned dry. I began to say something, but the words made no sound. I hadn’t really believed her when she had warned me of Vidal’s thugs, but I believed her now... seeing was believing. I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
She returned to her desk, ripped open the envelope Gesetti had left and read the letter.
She drew in a long, slow breath as she looked at me.
‘Henry is going to Libya on the 5th... that’s the day after tomorrow. He returns on the 9th. We are to arrange everything for him.’ She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘We will have almost a week without him, darling. Think of it... a whole week!’
Gesetti had thrown such a scare into me I felt no pleasure at the news.
‘I’ll fix his flight,’ I said and reached for the telephone.
Jake Lamb, the A.T.S. messenger, was shown into my office a few minutes to 17.00. With a wide grin and a wink, he handed me the Rangoon visas.
‘There you are, Mr. Burden.’ I saw his eyes stray to Val and his lips pursed into a soundless whistle. ‘All in order.’
‘Many thanks, Jake. You’re a lifesaver.’
I had completed Vidal’s Libyan schedule and was now waiting impatiently for Val to finish typing it. So far she had only completed one schedule and was now pecking and hunting at the Libyan schedule.
I had the problem of getting the visas to the Jacksons. They were staying at the Palace Hotel which was well out of Jake’s way, but I had to ask him. I had no one else to send.
He looked dubiously at his watch.
‘I’m late as it is. Mr. Olson will raise hell.’
I put the visas in an envelope with the schedule and took a five dollar bill from my wallet. I looked at him and lifted my eyebrows.
He grinned.
‘Well, okay, Mr. Burden: anything to oblige. I can always say I had a flat.’
When he had gone, I looked across at Val.
‘That’s personally cost me fifteen dollars. Can you now see why we must have a leg-man?’
‘Don’t talk! I’m busy,’ she snapped, then, ‘Oh, hell! You’ve made me make a mistake!’
‘I’m sorry.’ I knew I didn’t sound sorry, but I was too worried to care.
Going to the telex, I began typing a request for accommodation in New York. One of my telephone bells rang.
‘Would you get it, please?’ I said without looking around.
I heard her mutter something, then she answered the telephone.
She said impatiently, ‘Hello? Yes... he’s here. Who is it? Oh!’ A slight pause, then she went on, ‘Will you hold it, please?’
‘It’s for you,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Your wife!’
We stared at each other. This was something I hadn’t foreseen. My hands turned clammy. Had Rhoda recognised Val’s voice?
I picked up the receiver.
‘Rhoda?’
‘That’s me. When you buy the bread rolls and the cream, will you also get me two packs of cigarettes? I’m right out.’ I looked at the litter of papers on my desk and then at the desk clock. The time was 17.35.
‘I’m sorry, honey, no can do. I’ll be working late. You get them. I’ll be lucky if I get back before half past nine.’
‘Half past nine?’ Her voice shot up. ‘For God’s sake! What kind of job is this?’
‘It happens to be a busy day.’ I tried to keep my voice under control. ‘First day... you know. Look, honey, I’ll have to hang up. My desk is loaded.’
‘If you think I’m going to wait until nine-thirty before I eat, you’re mistaken!’ Her voice turned shrill.
‘All right... all right! Eat when you like! Don’t wait for me,’ and I hung up.
Val said, her voice unsteady, ‘Did she recognise my voice?’
‘I don’t know and right now I don’t give a damn! Let’s get on!’
Soon after 18.00, Val finished the Libyan schedule.
‘That’s number two, thank God! Now I must fly or I’ll be late.’
I stared at her as she hurriedly removed the carbons.
‘You going?’
‘I have to.’
‘But there are three more schedules to do, Val.’
‘They must wait,’ she said impatiently. ‘I have a dinner date with the Wernsteins, damn them! Henry arranged it. I can’t get out of it.’
‘Okay.’ I was too depressed to argue. ‘If you have to go, you have to go.’
‘Don’t be cross, darling. It’ll be better tomorrow.’
‘I hope to God you’re right!’
She came over swiftly, kissed my cheek lightly and was gone.
I ran my fingers through my hair. I should have anticipated this, I told myself. How the hell could we possibly have sex in Vidal’s own home? It would have been a lot better, easier and safer if I had stayed with the A.T.S.
I was so frustrated that I banged my clenched fists on my desk. After a few minutes I cooled down and wearily looked at the Vidal schedule that Val had typed. It was crowded with typing errors. I suddenly didn’t care anymore. If Vidal didn’t like his wife’s typing, he could tell her so. I put the schedule together with the flight ticket and the hotel voucher in an envelope and addressed it to the Intercontinental hotel, San Salvador.
Laboriously, I began to type the remaining schedules. It wasn’t until 22.00 that I finally cleared my desk.
By the time I had driven out to Miami airport, given the Vidal schedule to an air hostess, who I knew, to deliver to Vidal when she arrived at the Intercontinental hotel in the afternoon, and then driven back to my apartment the time was 23.18.
I found Rhoda watching TV.
‘You’re late!’ she exclaimed, her eyes not moving from the lighted screen. ‘Don’t talk now... this is exciting.’
I went into the kitchen and looked around. There was no sign of any food.
‘Did you get anything?’ I called.
‘No, I forgot. Don’t interrupt!’
I fixed myself a whisky and soda, strong enough to knock over a horse. Then I opened a can of beans and not bothering to heat them, I ate them cold from the can.
I finished as the TV programme finished.
Rhoda came into the kitchen. I could tell by the way she stood, her hands on her hips and her face set that I was heading for trouble.
‘So Slinky answers the telephone for you,’ she said. ‘You must feel flattered.’
I was expecting this. I never underestimated Rhoda’s shrewdness.
‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office,’ I said, rinsing my glass. ‘I was on the telex so she answered.’
‘Mrs. Vidal happened to be in the office? Who do you think you’re conning? You told me that whore was away!’
I held on to my rising temper, but only just. I put the glass down.
‘Try not to be more vulgar than you can help, Rhoda. I told you Mrs. Vidal is away a great deal. She’s not away right now. She came in to see if I approved of the office.’
‘Don’t you dare call me vulgar!’ Rhoda screamed. ‘If anyone’s vulgar it’s your precious Slinky with her money and her jewels! If she’s not a whore, she looks like one!’