Her eyes widened and she murmured, “Dirk, Dirk Pitt!”
“Oh, I hope so,” he replied with a devilish grin.
After her initial shock at seeing Pitt standing there resplendent in a tuxedo with vest and gold watch chain, she recovered and threw herself against him, her arms encircling his neck. He was so surprised he barely caught himself from tumbling over backward down the steps. Impetuously, she kissed him hard on the mouth. Now it was Pitt's turn for his eyes to widen. He had never expected such a spontaneous reception.
“I thought I was the one who said I'd kiss you full on the mouth when next we meet.” Reluctantly, he gripped Julia by the upper arms and gently eased her away. “Do you greet all your blind dates in that manner?”
Suddenly, she cast her dove-gray eyes to the ground shyly. “I don't know what came over me. Seeing you came as a shock. I wasn't told who was escorting me to Qin Shang's party. Peter Harper only said he arranged for a tall, dark, hand- r some man to act as my backup.”
“The dirty sneak led me to believe that you were my backup, He should have been a theatrical producer. I'll bet he's drooling in anticipation of Qin Shang's reaction when the two people who queered his operation at Orion Lake walk in uninvited to j his party.”
“I hope you're not disappointed at having to escort me. I Under all this makeup, I still look pretty awful.”
He gently lifted her chin until he could look down into her I misty eyes. He might have said something witty and clever, I but it wasn't the moment. “About as disappointed as a man who has discovered a diamond mine.”
“I didn't know you could say nice things to a girl.”
“You wouldn't believe the hordes of women my silver i tongue has seduced.”
“Liar,” she said softly as her lips broke into a smile.
“Enough of this endearing talk,” he said, releasing her. “We'd better get a move on before the food runs out.”
After Julia briefly returned inside the house to find her purse f and coat, Pitt led her to the stately and majestic machine parked at the curb in front of the townhouse where she was staying with an old sorority sister from college. She stared in open astonishment at the mammoth car with its big chrome wire wheels and wide whitewall tires.
“Good Lord!” she exclaimed. “What kind of a car are we I going in?”
“A nineteen-twenty-nine Duesenberg,” answered Pitt, “Since we've been ordered to crash a party thrown by one of the world's richest men, I thought it only fitting and proper that we arrive in style.”
“I've never ridden in a car this grand,” said Julia admiringly as she slid onto the soft tan leather seat. She marveled at the hood that seemed to stretch halfway down the block as Pitt closed the door and came around behind the big steering wheel, “I've never heard of a Duesenberg.”
“The Model J Duesenbergs were the finest examples of American automating,” Pitt explained. “Manufactured from nineteen-twenty-eight until nineteen-thirty-six, they were considered by many automobile connoisseurs as the handsomest cars ever built. Only about four hundred eighty chassis and engines came out of the factory and were sent to the most esteemed coachmakers in the country who produced magnificent designs. This car was custom-bodied by the Walter M. Murphy Company in Pasadena, California, and styled as a convertible sedan. Not cheap, they sold as high as twenty thousand dollars when the Ford Model A sold for around four hundred. They were owned by the wealthy celebrities of their day, particularly the Hollywood crowd, who bought Duesenbergs as a show of pride and prestige. If you drove a Duesy, you had made it big-time.”
“She's beautiful,” said Julia, admiring the artistically flowing lines. “She must be fast.”
“The engine was an outgrowth of the Duesenberg racing engines. A straight eight-cylinder engine displacing four hundred twenty cubic inches, it produced two hundred sixty-five horsepower when most engines at the time put out less than seventy. Although this engine doesn't have the supercharger that was installed on later models, I made a few modifications when I restored the car. Under the right conditions she could touch one hundred forty miles an hour.”
“I'll take your word for it without a demonstration.”
“A pity we can't drive with the top down, but it's a cool night and I put it up to protect milady's hair.”
“A woman loves a considerate man.”
“I always aim to please.”
She looked at the flat windshield and noticed a small hole in one corner of the glass with tiny cracks spreading from it. “Is that a bullet hole?”
“A souvenir from a couple of Qin Shang's flunkies.”
“He sent men to kill you?” asked Julia, staring in fascination at the hole. “Where did this take place?”
“They dropped by the aircraft hangar where I live earlier in the evening,” Pitt answered impassively.
“What happened?”
“They weren't the least bit sociable, so I sent them on their way.”
Pitt hit the starter and the big engine turned over with a soft purr before the eight cylinders fired and broadcast a mellow roar through the big exhaust pipe. The low gears gave out a muted whir as Pitt shifted through the sequence from first to third. The great luxury car that has never been surpassed rolled through the streets of Washington, regal and majestic.
Julia decided it was hopeless to pry any more information out of Pitt. She relaxed in the wide leather seat and enjoyed the ride and the stares of other drivers and the people walking on the sidewalks.
Shortly after traveling up Wisconsin Avenue out of the District of Columbia, Pitt turned onto a meandering residential street canopied by huge trees sprouting new spring leaves until he reached the gate of the drive leading to Qin Shang's Chevy Chase mansion. The iron gates were a monstrosity of Chinese dragons entwined around the bars. Two Chinese guards dressed in elaborate uniforms stared strangely at the huge car for sev- j eral moments before stepping forward and asking to see invitations. Pitt passed them through the open window and waited while the guards checked his and Julia's names against those on a guest list. Satisfied that Pitt and Julia were indeed invited, they bowed and pressed the code on a remote transmitter that opened the gates. Pitt threw them a brief wave and tooled the Duesenberg up the long driveway and stopped under the portico at the entrance to the house, whose exterior was lit up like a football stadium.
“I must remember to compliment Harper,” said Pitt. “He not only provided us with invitations, but he somehow managed to sneak our names onto the guest list.”
Julia's expression was that of a young girl approaching the Taj Mahal. “I've never attended a major-league Washington party before. I hope I won't embarrass you.”
“You won't,” Pitt assured her. “Just tell yourself that it's strictly a social theater. The powerful Washington elite throw posh functions because they have something to sell. It all comes down to people milling around, swilling booze, looking influential and exchanging gossip mixed with explicit information. Mostly, the city's society chronicles the foolish events from their petty little political worlds.”
“You act as if you've been to them before.”
“As I told you on the dock at Grapevine Bay, my father is a senator. In my bon vivant younger days I used to tag along and attempt to pick up congressional mistresses.”
“Were you successful?” “Almost never.”