I need to talk to you. . WithEvie's words playing over and over in his mind, he took a cab to the co-op theyhad owned since shortly after the wedding. The sixth-floor apartment, fivedecent-sized rooms and a tiny study, was in a well-maintained building on theUpper West Side, a block from Central Park. Over Evie's eight-plus years there,the flat had changed, in her words, from 'exquisite' to 'adequate' to 'small,'and, most recently, to 'depressing.'
I need to talk to you. . Health?Money? The marriage? Her job? Could she possibly be pregnant? It had been solong since she had needed to speak with him about anything. Maybe shefinally wanted to clear the air and start over again.
There were two apartments on the sixthfloor. The narrow hallway between them always seemed imbued with Evie — possibly some combination of her perfume, shampoo, and makeup. As usual the,scent evoked powerful impressions of her. But this evening Harry was toodistracted to pay much attention. He knocked once and then used his key.
'Harry?' she called out from the bedroom.
'Yes.'
'I'll be right out.'
From her tone, he knew she was on thephone.
Harry set the Tiffany's box on thedining-room table and paced idly. The apartment was immaculate, brightened byseveral vases of fresh-cut flowers — Evie's trademark. An Eric Clapton albumwas playing on the CD player. Clapton was one of Harry's favorites. He wonderedif Evie's playing it now was significant.
'You want a drink?' he asked.
'I have a vodka and tonic on the kitchencounter. Just add a little ice for me. .'
She must be off the phone.
'. . I'll be out in a minute. I madereservations at the SeaGrill if that's okay.'
'Fine.'
Harry tried unsuccessfully to readsomething — anything — into her voice.
She emerged from the bedroom wearing blackslacks and a red silk blouse. The colors looked smashing on her. Then again,most colors did. She kissed him on the cheek — nearly an air kiss.
'Was it hard getting away from theoffice?' she asked, retrieving her drink.
'Not really. Mary cleared my schedule andcanceled me out with the band. She can do anything she sets her mind to.'
'How's she doing?'
'Mary?'
'Yes.'
Harry couldn't remember when Evie had lastasked about his office staff- or, for that matter, the guys in the band or hisco-workers.
'The arthritis in her hips is pretty bad.But in general she's doing fine. Are you okay?'
'As well as can be expected, I guess.'
She sipped her drink. Harry gave up tryingto see behind the small talk and instead handed her the necklace. She seemedgenuinely charmed and impressed by the gift and immediately replaced the goldchain she was wearing with it.
'This is really very sweet of you,' shesaid, glancing again at the card.
'I just wanted to be sure you know thateverything's going to be okay.'
Her smile was enigmatic, but there wasunmistakable sadness in her eyes.
'You always tell me that things have ahabit of working out the way they're supposed to.'
'That's me. Harry Corbett, mild-manneredGP by day, impenetrable philosopher by night.'
'Well, I think this time you've got itright, impenetrable one. Things do have a way of working out.'
She gazed out the window, absentlyfingering the pendant. The early evening light glowed against her pale skin andhighlighted her flawless profile. She was, if anything, even more strikinglylovely than she had been when they first met.
'You. . um. . said you needed tospeak with me.'
Even as he heard his voice saying thewords, Harry cursed himself for not having more restraint. If she felt ready tosay something, she would have said it.
She glanced at him and then turned back tothe window. 'I–I just wanted to spend some time talking together tonight,'she said. 'After all, medical science may have broken through the envelope, butbrain surgery is still brain surgery.'
'I understand,' Harry said. But in truth,he was not at all certain that he did. 'So. . are — are you hungry?'
'I will be by the time we get there.'
'Want to walk?' The question was almostrhetorical. Evie was invariably in too great a rush to get wherever she wasgoing to walk.
'Let's do that,' she said suddenly. 'Let'swalk. Harry, this is a beautiful necklace. I'm really very touched.'
Harry searched for the cynicism he hadgrown used to from her but found none. His fantasies about a return to the lifethey had once had began to simmer. Evie had already turned and started towardthe bedroom when he realized the phone was ringing.
'I'll get it,' she called out, hurryingdown the hall. 'I want to get my purse anyhow.'
Harry shrugged and, still feeling uneasy,went to the kitchen and set his glass in the sink. Through the eight Bosespeakers mounted throughout the apartment, Eric Clapton was reminding him thatnobody knows you when you're down and out.
Down in the hall in the bedroom, her handcupped over the mouthpiece of the phone, Evie was holding a brief, hushedconversation.
'No. . no, I haven't told him about usyet,' she said. 'But I'm going to.'
She set the receiver down and held thediamond pendant up where she could see it.
'At least I think I'm going to,'she murmured.
Chapter5
Galahad. . Gawaine. . Merlin. .Tristram. . they arrived at the nineteenth-floor conference room atprescribed times, in prescribed order, and by prescribed routes. Galahad hadchosen the hotel and meeting room and set up the protocol. He had also checkedthe room for listening devices and cameras.
Although the women from the escort servicewere hired to stay the night, Kevin Loomis — Sir Tristram — had sent Kelly awayan hour or so before he left his room. He loved his wife and was satisfied withtheir sex life. But every man had his limits. Nancy did not like givingbackrubs as much as she liked receiving them. Five minutes of uninspiredkneading was about the best effort she could muster. But Kelly was tireless,and the sweet-smelling oils she produced from her bag would have pleased apotentate. Spending an entire night with her would have stretched his willpowerbeyond the breaking point.
Now, reasonably relaxed from the perks ofpower, Kevin checked the time, dialed Merlin's room, and allowed the phone toring six times. Certain that Merlin had left, he took the elevator to thesecond floor, then a different elevator up to the eighteenth. The securitymeasures seemed excessive to him, but they did heighten the sense of alwaysbeing on the edge of danger and discovery, and from games of highway chicken inhigh school to several dozen jumps in his thirties with a skydiving club, Kevinhad always been drawn to that feeling.
He took the stairs to the final story,checked the corridor, and slipped inside room 1902, the Stuyvesant Suite. Threeother knights were already there, seated at places marked with their Roundtablenames on small gold plaques. They greeted him with businesslike smiles andnods. Percivale, Lancelot, and Kay arrived next, exactly three minutes apart.
Except for Galahad's having taken absolutecontrol over security, there was no leader of the knights. They took turnschairing the meetings, which began at seven-thirty and continued until therewas no more business to transact. In Tristram's four months with the group, twosessions had already gone well past midnight. Both of them had focused on thesecurity breach by the reporter calling herself Desiree. For an exhaustingthree hours, the knights had grilled Kevin and Gawaine, dissecting theirrecollected conversations with the woman word by word.
Did she ask you about what yourbusiness was?. . What did you say?. . Did you mention any of our names?.. What did she seem the most interested in?. . Did she ask your lastname?. . Did you tell her?. . Did you make love with her?. . Getundressed with her? Fall asleep while she was with you?. . Did you leave heralone in the room with your wallet?. . Your clothes?. . How about yourbriefcase?. . Is there any way she could have drugged you?. .