I gave him the letter. "On your life, make sure that this is personally delivered to Miss Simmons at 352 Bogg Street, Apartment 21, Morningside Heights. As soon as you have done that, meet me at the west side of that building just to the south of us, at the tables in Gruffaw-Spill Park."
"Why not just meet you at Miss Pinch's apartment?" said this insolent ruffian.
"You stay away from there. And if you breathe a word of where I am to anyone, I'll shoot you in hot blood, gallons of it."
"I believe you would," he said. But despite the insolence, trained as he was, he sped away.
I went to the Gruffaw-Spill Building. Down on the concourse it has the only walk-under waterfall in New York. You walk straight through it. I was using it because it covered the trail.
Inside was a refreshment stand and tables. It is very nice. I had some coffee and a hot dog, feeling pretty cheerful about things, really. The waterfall was splashing away, and since this was Saturday, there was hardly anyone around. Quite peaceful. No riffraff.
Two hours later, it did not seem so restful. I was drinking too much coffee.
Five hours from the time I had sent Raht off, it wasn't peaceful at all. I was getting worried. I blamed myself. I should have taken the message there personally: I had been deterred by the positive conviction she would recognize my voice after our first interview. Or some of her students might drop in and take a swing at me.
I was nervous now, so that my hands were shaking and the man at the refreshment stand was eyeing me, no doubt trying to make up his mind to call the police, Raht showed up.
He was nervous and furtive, white of face and shaky of hand. He looked apprehensive. I knew he was hiding something.
In answer to my furious demand as to what had detained him, he said, evasively, "Oh, she wasn't up. Her cleaning service was, and some people putting a new glass pane in the window were, though. How come the place got so wrecked? Do apartments you have anything to do with always get wrecked, Officer Gris?"
I kept my voice down. The man at the counter had his eye on me. "Did you or did you not deliver the message?"
"I didn't want to leave it with the cleaners," he said nervously. "They didn't seem reliable. You learn not to trust people in our line of business. And with a threat of buckets of blood..."
"Gallons," I corrected him sharply.
"... I wouldn't hand it over to the glass company. So I waited for her to get up. And she did about half an hour later."
"Wait a minute. That was over four and a half hours ago! What in the name of Hells detained you?"
"Gently, gently," he said anxiously. He leaned forward. "Those two little girls over there and the proprietor are watching. You're talking Voltarian."
"Raht, I have a gun in my pocket. It is pointed straight at your stomach under this table, Raht. If you don't tell me what happened, Raht, I am going to pull the trigger, Raht."
That got to him. "I bet you would," he said. "And cops would instantly be all over the place." He gave me a glaring look. But he got down to business. "So she got up. She was wearing a housecoat that was pretty wrinkled and she didn't seem to be bothering to keep it closed. She sure is built. Breasts nice and firm. Brown pubic hair. Nice legs..."
I made a threatening gesture with my hand in my pocket.
He got on very hurriedly. "She looked at the cleaning-service people and said, 'It must be Saturday.' Then she looked at the glaziers that were fixing the window and said, 'That's nice of the owner. It's been drafty....'"
"The letter, Raht," I snarled.
"... and then she saw me standing there and she said, 'Oh, an early morning caller. How nice.' And I said, 'No, ma'am. I am acting as a courier, even though that isn't my proper job designation. But I've been improperly sent so here I am.' I gave her the glasses. She put them down on a walnut sideboard about three inches from the edge. I gave her the letter. She opened it with a hairpin. She read it."
"Wait a minute," I said. "She can't see anything at all without her glasses. You may have given it to the wrong woman. Describe her."
He did. Brown hair, hazel eyes, wart on the back of her left hand. It was Miss Simmons. "And then?" I said.
"And then all Hells broke loose," said Raht. "And that's why I've been delaying telling you because you're liable to get excited and shoot somebody. Promise me you won't shoot. You might hit those two little girls over there."
Excitedly, I said, "Go on! Go on! I won't shoot you! This is good news, you idiot!"
"Well, she read the letter and she stood there, going white and red. And then she read it again. And she kind of began to yelp. Officer Gris, why would you write a letter that would upset the poor woman so? I don't like acting as a courier. And especially NOT of your letters! I thought she was going to have a stroke. Why would you want to upset her so? She seems a nice girl. But upset people seem to be good news to you."
I was glowing with eagerness. "Go on! Go on! Exactly what did she do or say?"
"She screamed, 'I knew it! I knew it! The moment I woke up, I knew it but I wouldn't admit it to myself!' And she rushed into the bedroom and I heard her getting dressed and she came back into the living room. I hoped she would write something really nasty back so I said, 'Is there any answer?' And she said, 'Wait right there until I return and I'll give you one. This is a matter for the police!' And she went tearing out of the apartment."
I was ecstatic. She knew what Krak looked like. She could put it together on an identokit. Better, Grafferty, the three policemen and Kutzbrain could identify the woman. They even had her fingerprints on their guns. They knew it connected to Wister and when they questioned him they would probably run right into the Countess Krak. Perfect!
Raht was still talking. "Finally, I tailed her but lost her in a downtown express, so I came back to Bogg Street. I found a place where I could keep the apartment under surveillance without being noticed and I waited. On the one hand, I thought maybe if she came back with the police, I could give them your address, but on the other hand, if this got rough, it could compromise Voltarian presence on the planet. I decided I should find out more. If she came back with police, I could disappear. But if there were no police with her, maybe I could find out more information-which is, after all, my proper job, no matter how many times certain people seek to drive me off it, doing incorrect functions."
"Get on with it," I ordered him.
"She was gone for hours and when she came back she was alone so I walked with her. She was smug beyond belief. She seemed all happy and cheerful, but smug. These Earth women are that way. They're happiest when they've got something on somebody, and that's the way she looked."
"Beautiful," I said.
"Yes, I would say she did look more beautiful. But smug. We got clear up to her apartment and went in and then she did the weirdest thing. She kissed me on the cheek and she said, 'Tell your friend, thank you, thank you, thank you! It is totally true. His or her letter has practically saved my life.' So I got out of there real fast. Women don't kiss you without some covert reason and I think she was just trying to keep you from taking flight until the police could come. So I recommend, knowing you, that you sort of lie low."
"No, no, you idiot. She wasn't covering anything up. She was being absolutely honest. I did save her life."
I was so enthralled, I didn't even notice when he left.
I could hardly wait for Sunday. Wow, was this going to go in the most unexpected direction Krak could ever imagine! (Bleep) her! Her and all her fancy, stupid tricks!