15
Winfield Lord's reservation at the hotel had been for three days, including the day of his arrival. But perversely and for no apparent reason he remained for six. He made no attempt to reach Mitch. Quite possibly, with his long training in blanking-out, he did not remember being with Mitch. But that was only a possibility, not a certainty. It was also possible, where anyone as tricky as he was concerned, that he was merely biding his time, waiting for the proper moment to Spring one of the near-riots for which he was famous, or rather, infamous. Some brannigan that would attract the attention of the police and newspapers.
Mitch couldn't risk that, naturally. Neither could he risk the demand from Lord for another game. Even the thirty-three thousand was an uncomfortably large amount to take from such a character. Turkelson would have his neck out to there if he continued to play cashier for Mitch. You could always get bit by riding a good thing too far.
Lord kept pretty much to his suite, consuming great quantities of liquor, eating sparsely, receiving occasional visits from call girls and the house physician (in that order). Of necessity, then, Mitch and Red remained in their suite. Lord would forget them in time, if he hadn't already. For the present, they could not take the chance of encountering him.
This cooling out on a chump, of course, is routine in any hustle. Ordinarily, it would have been accomplished by jumping town. Since that was impractical here, they could only remain in hiding. Which, Mitch reflected, wouldn't have been at all hard to take normally. What was so tough about being holed up in a fancy penthouse with a beautiful doll and a big bundle of the green? Red thought it was just fine and dandy- and proved it by hardly letting him out of her sight. Mitch- well, Mitch would have thought it was fine too, if he could ever have stopped thinking for a moment about Agate. He had already broken one promise to the banker. Now, since more than two days had gone by, he had broken another. And Agate
knew things about him, things which could be very dangerous if he chose to reveal them.
Mitch doubted that Agate would be appeased by anything less than cash. But on the third afternoon, while Red was showering, he managed a quick call to him.
"All right," the banker snapped, as Mitch began a hasty explanation. "You couldn't get in. When can you?"
"Well, I'm not sure, Lee. I hope I can make it tomorrow, but-"
"Forget tomorrow, then. What about the next day?"
"Well, I-I-"
"Or the day after that?"
"Well-Lee, I just can't say for sure. But-"
"I know. You've got something big on the fire, and you want to keep me quiet until you can pull it off."
"Aah, no, Lee! It isn't like that at all. I-"
Agate slammed up the phone. Mitch didn't bother to call him back. Nor would it have done any good if he had.
There was nothing to do but wait and worry.
The end of Lord's stay coincided with the weekend. Thus, it was Monday before Mitch could notify Agate that the fifteen thousand was waiting for him.
Agate seemed stunned to hear his voice on the phone. "But-but I thought that-"
"Well, now you know you were wrong," Mitch said. "Same place, same time, okay? We'll have lunch."
"Well, uh, I'm not sure that-uh-"
"You can have a drink with me if you're tied up for lunch. Or I can drop the dough off at the bank for you."
"No. No, don't do that," Agate said, and he seemed to sigh. "We'll make it for drinks."
They met at the same quietly luxurious restaurant they had lunched in the previous week. Mitch handed him an envelope, and he looked at it almost blankly for a moment. Then, he opened the flap, thumbed through the contents, and slowly raised his eyes again.
"Well?" Mitch said. "It's all there, isn't it?"
"What?" Agate blinked. "Oh, yes. Yes, it's all here." He tapped thoughtfully on the table with the envelope. Then, his lips tightening peevishly, he added that Mitch was very late. "Inexcusably late. You couldn't blame me at all if I'd blown the whistle on you."
"Well, as long as you didn't," Mitch shrugged.
"You just can't do things like this, Mitch." Agate shook his head fretfully. "You of all people should know that you Can't. You break one promise to me. Then, you come right back and break another one. You just let everything slide, and then you show up when you're damned good and ready and expect everything to be all right."
"Isn't it, Lee?" Mitch said. "Isn't it all right? If it isn't you'd better tell me right now."
But Agate continued his nagging. He had to. It was a mask for the confusion, the uncertainty, the fear which teemed through his mind. It was a rationalization-an attempt to blame Mitch for his own betrayal. And how could he possibly tell the truth, anyway? He needed this fifteen thousand. He was terrified of what Mitch might do if he knew the truth.
"Well, Lee," Mitch was saying. "Isn't it all right? Does this square us up, or doesn't it?"
"Now, that's not the point," Agate said doggedly. "You've got to admit that-"
"Never mind." Mitch gestured curtly. "I can't sit here all day while you scold me. How much more do you want- two-fifty, five? I thought the fifteen was damned plenty, but I'll sweeten it if you say so."
"Now, I said nothing about sweetening it," Agate muttered. "I didn't say a thing about wanting more money."
"But you do want it, don't you?" Mitch studied him carefully. "If you don't, what the hell is this all about?"
He took a sip of his vermouth cassis, keeping his eyes on the banker. Agate gulped down the last of his double Scotch, sat twirling the glass nervously. God, why couldn't he have waited? Why had he had to be in such a hell of a hurry? Why-how-
Suddenly, he saw a way out, or thought he saw one. It was a stupid way, actually no way at all. But desperation and the abrupt infusion of whiskey made it seem brilliant. Smiling, he tucked the money envelope into his pocket, and held out a hand.
"The fifteen is plenty," he said, "and excuse me if I've given you a hard time. I had a rough morning at the bank."
Mitch hesitated, studying him a moment longer. But the explanation sounded reasonable, and he could think of no other. Blue Monday-a hard morning after a hard weekend. It figured, didn't it?
"It happens to the best of us" he said. "Then we're all set? Still friends?"
"Of course we are. Certainly we are, Mitch. Just give me a holler the next time you need help. I'm afraid I can't do anything for you in that Zearsdale matter, but anything else…"
Mitch nodded, not particularly disappointed. The Zearsdale option had been a longshot, something he had had to try for without really expecting to hit. It was enough that he had been able to square himself with the banker, and he was very relieved to have done it.
A dress-suited waiter approached, looked expectantly from one to the other of them. Mitch suggested lunch, but Agate shook his head.
"I think I'll just settle for another drink, another double, please," he said. "And don't let me keep you, Mitch. I've got some things to think out, and I'd just as soon be alone for a while."