He headed for the airport. Jeanyee said, "All right, Jerry, you can drop the English accent. And where do you think you are taking me and what the hell is this?"
Chapter IX
A wry grin tilted Nick's lips for an instant. "Damn, Jeanyee. I thought my old-school-tie accent was pretty good."
"It is, I suppose. But you're one of the few men who know about my acrobatic training. I talked too much in your apartment but this is one time it helped. When we were getting out that window you said Take hold. As you do for work on the bar.' I didn't have time to think about it until I was cleaning up at Villon's. Then I watched you walk. I know those shoulders, Jerry. I'd never guess by looking at you. You've been made up by experts. Who are you, Jerry Deming? Or who is Jerry Deming?"
"A guy who thinks a lot of you, Jeanyee." He had to keep her quiet until he got her in the plane. She was a cool kitten. You couldn't tell by her voice that she had nearly been killed several times tonight. "Hans has gotten too big for his collar. He's pulling a big double-cross as I told you in the room. All the girls were to be eliminated except Ruth and Pong-Pong."
"I can't believe it," she said, her calmness shaken. She gulped the words and then was silent.
I hope you can, he thought, and I wonder if you have a weapon I don't know about? He had seen her stripped. She had lost her shoes and handbag, and yet… You could strip him almost to the skin and not find the lethal gas bomb, Pierre, in the special pocket of his shorts.
She said suddenly, "Tell me what the Leader looks like. Who do you know? Where are we going? I… I just can't believe you, Jerry."
He parked the car at the side of a hangar, just a few steps from where the Aero Commander was tied down. There was a hint of dawn in the east. He put his arm around her and patted her hand. "Jeanyee, you're the greatest. I need a woman like you, and after last night I think you see you need a man like me. A man on the inside who swings more weight than Hans. Stick with me and you'll be all right. We'll go back and talk to Command One and then you can make up your mind. O.K.?"
"I… don't know…"
He turned her chin slowly and kissed her. Her lips were cool and rigid and then softer and then warm and welcoming. He knew she wanted to believe him. But this strange Asian girl had seen too much in her life to be fooled easily, or to be fooled for long. He said, "I meant it when I suggested we take a little vacation together. I know a little place near Mt. Tremper, up above New York. The foliage will soon be all in color. If you like it we can go back for at least a weekend in the fall. Trust me until we talk to the Leader."
She just shook her head. He felt a tear on her cheek. So — the beautiful Chinese girl, with all her accomplishments, was not made of steel. He said, "Wait here. I won't be a moment. O.K.?"
She nodded and he went swiftly along the hangar, watched the car for a moment and then ran to the telephone booth outside the airport office. If she did decide to run, he would see her when she came along the road or went out on the field.
He reached a number, said, "This is Plunger. At nine o'clock call the Avis office and tell them the car is at the airport. Keys wedged under the back seat."
A man replied, "Got it."
Nick ran back to the corner of the hangar, then walked casually to the car. Jeanyee sat quietly staring into the new dawn.
He watched as he warmed up the aircraft's engine. No one came out of the little office. Although some lights were on, the airport seemed deserted. He let the plane fly herself off, eased her through some mild turbulence over the morning mountains and leveled off at seven thousand feet, course 120 degrees.
He peeked at Jeanyee. She was staring straight ahead, her beautiful face a blend of concentration and what might be suspicion. He said, "Well have a good breakfast when we land. I'll bet you're hungry."
"I've been hungry before. What does the Leader look like?"
"He's not my type. Ever fly a plane? Put your hands on the wheel. I'll give you a lesson. May come in handy."
"Who else do you know? Stop stalling, Jerry."
"We could spend a lot of time on stalls. I guess that next to ice in carburetors they've killed more airmen than anything else. Watch and I'll show…"
"You'd better show me who you are, Jerry," she stopped him in incisive tones. "This has gone far enough."
He sighed. She was warming herself up for real resistance. "Don't you like me enough to trust me at all, Jeanyee?"
"I like you as much as any man I've ever met. But we're not talking about that. Tell me about Baumann."
"Ever hear him called Judas?"
She was thinking. He glanced over. She frowned. "No. So?"
"It fits."
"And you called yourself his son. You're lying as fast as you talk."
"You've lied to me since we met, darling. But I understand because you had a role to play and you didn't know me. Now I'm being honest with you."
She lost some cool. "Stop trying to turn the tables and say something that makes sense."
"I love you."
"Save that for later if you mean that. I can't believe anything you say."
Her voice was hard. The gloves were coming off. Nick said, "Remember Lebanon?"
"What?"
"Remember Harry Demarkin?"
"No."
"And they got a picture of you with Wheel-and-Deal Tyson. Bet you didn't know that." That shook her. "Yes," he followed it up — a live lead. "Hans is so stupid. He wanted to throw you to the other side. Using the picture. Imagine if you talked."
He had never used the small version of the automatic pilot designed for general aviation and small planes, but he had been checked out on it He set the course — locked the ship on. It seemed efficient. He lit a cigarette and sat back. Jeanyee refused one. She said, "Everything you have said is a lie."
"You said yourself I was too strong for an oil peddler."
"You're too much all around."
She was strikingly beautiful with those dark brows arched low and her mouth taut and the eyes glowing in concentration. She was pressing too hard. She wanted to solve this herself in case he wasn't one of the gang and she'd be in double trouble after they landed. She must have a weapon. What? Where?
At last she said, "You're some kind of cop. Maybe you did get a picture of me with Tyson. That's where your lead started."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Interpol, Jerry?"
"The U.S. has twenty-eight intelligence arms. Run through them. And half of them are looking for me."
"Maybe you're British then, but you aren't one of us. Silence. "All right…" Now her voice was low and hard, as biting and keen as Hugo after he honed the shining blade on a fine stone. "You mentioned Harry Demarkin. That makes you AXE more than likely."
"Sure. And CIA and FBI." Both sets of gloves were slipping off now. In a moment you tossed them into each other's faces and went for your Derringers or Pepperboxes.
Nick felt regret. She was so gorgeous — and he had hardly begun to explore her talents. That spine was made of flexible steel cable, all covered with dense foam rubber. You could… She moved a hand suddenly and he alerted. She flicked a bead of sweat from the neat valley under her lips.
"No," she said bitterly. "You aren't amateur night or a law clerk marking time until he can make a connection."
Nick's eyebrows went up. He must tell Hawk that one. "You did a perfect job on Demarkin. Dad approved."
"Stop that crap."
"Now you're angry with me."
"You're a fascist bastard."
"You jumped to that idea awful fast. I saved your life. We were — very close in Washington, I thought. You're the kind of a girl I could…"