Shaw found his clothing neatly folded away. Naturally enough the Browning had gone; so had the neat, pocket-size broad-band radio receiver which squealed if a bug was transmitting in the vicinity. He found a wash-basin with hot and cold in a recess leading off to the left of the door, and he washed and felt a good deal fresher. He found an electric razor laid out ready for him and as he ran it over the stubble he looked through a window in the recess. The panther was prowling up and down restlessly, swishing its tail. It gazed in on Shaw. Though after a while it refused to meet his eyes, he didn’t like the look on its face. It had an underfed expression and seemed eager to rectify this condition. While he was dressing back in the main part of the bedroom it began licking its lips in a suggestive kind of way and he pulled the gold drapes across the french window. He heard a soft thud on the glass, like a protest.
A little later the sullen Negro girl came back, this time with a light lunch. It was excellently cooked and had probably been sent up from a restaurant serving the apartments. Shaw’s appetite had dwindled, but he ate the lot. If things went wrong, he would need a good meal inside him and this one might have to last for quite a while.
After his lunch he pulled the drapes back again and carefully examined the apartment and the washing recess for hidden bugs, but he didn’t find a thing. Bugs, however, could be hidden almost anywhere, even in holes bored into the wall from outside, holes that didn’t reach as far as the wallpaper and were impossible to detect from inside without proper equipment. His search was thorough; he spent a long time over it and after that he was at a loose end. He walked up and down, he lay on the bed, he sat in the chair. The Chinese lacquered cabinet didn’t after all contain drinks. It was empty, strictly for show only. No relaxation there. He spent some of the time until dark exchanging looks with the panther, trying to get on terms with it, but without any noticeable response.
There wouldn’t be much hope of by-passing the brute, and even if he could do so the sidewalks were a long, long way down and they were hard.
Dinner was served at eight-fifteen, still churlishly. Once again Shaw ate well but without pleasure, though the meal was a gem and left lunch standing. There was Californian fruit cocktail with maraschino, sherried real green turtle soup, roast Maryland Tom turkey with sage and liver stuffing, corned fritters and Fedora salad, followed by asparagus en branche and melted butter; and he finished with preserved yellow cling peaches. At ten o’clock he went to bed for lack of anything else to do and in the early hours he woke from sleep to hear the opening of the door and then Flame’s voice. Undressing quickly, she slid into bed beside him. When he reached out a hand to her he struck naked flesh. She responded to his touch and he felt her arms go round him and her fingers play softly, gently, teasingly up and down his back. The kiss was as good, as passionate as that of the morning before and it lasted even longer; blood thrilled through his body and his hand caressed her, feeling the warm softness of her skin. She yielded to him and he heard her sigh, felt the whisper of her breath in his ears; then he held her close, kissing her once again, tenderly this time and with a kind of sympathetic understanding.
When it was over they lay side by side, at peace, with his fingers running through her hair and a hand cupping her breast. He gave her a little time and then, speaking in a whisper with his mouth close to her ear he said, “Flame, my darling, I’m sorry to have to spoil the moment, but I have to talk to you on purely business matters… and I want you to answer as quietly as I’m talking now, just like yesterday morning. I couldn’t find any bugs but that doesn’t have to mean there’s not one, and I don’t trust Othello an inch.”
She stirred a little in his arms. “Go on,” she whispered. “I’m listening.”
He gave her a summary of what had happened after she had left in the morning. He said, “Unless I get out of here the end of the line could come in just a few days from now. And getting out of here’s a doubtful proposition — for me. Not for you.”
She whispered, “I don’t get you.…”
“Concentrate, my dear girl. What I’m saying is, if you want to keep your skin intact, you’ll leave here in the morning and not come back. And not go back to the Sex Kitten either. I can only add I’m very, very sorry to have disrupted your working life, but as things might soon be, I’d rather that than feel responsible for you getting killed. So take my advice and hop the twig while you can. I’ll take my chance at a break-out next time they come to feed me — or rather, after I’ve given you a chance to put some distance between yourself and Omofouloo.”
She didn’t answer at once, then she said, “From all of that, I gather you haven’t been entirely on the level with me.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. I mean that. I can’t say more. I’m making what amends I can now… before it’s too late.”
“After landing me in the dirt, that’s nice.” She was silent again for a while, then she held him very close and tight. She whispered, “I’m just a little mad at not being trusted, but if you haven’t already gotten the idea I’m not overkeen on my work, then you’re not all that bright. I told you, I don’t sleep with jigs, for one thing. Not sleeping with jigs is getting harder and harder to keep up. I won’t go into details, but Omofouloo’s feeling repressed. I’ve an idea it’s going to be a choice between giving in gracefully and being raped on the hearthrug in his office, before long. I don’t like either prospect. I wouldn’t shed a tear if I never saw the Sex Kitten again… except that I have to eat, and I eat well on what Omofouloo pays me.”
“Take a chance on eating,” he said. “You don’t want to die yet, do you?”
Her hand moved slowly along his thigh. “I’m not going to die yet. Nor am I leaving you to it. I’m not that sort of girl. You didn’t leave me to it in that riot. And any man who makes love with the consideration you do, wouldn’t let a girl down in the long run. Ever. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
He said a little thickly, “I’ll try to live up to that. But for now I’m going to insist you do the sane thing and get to hell out in the morning.”
She kissed him. When she pulled away she whispered, “You picked me up and now you’re landed with me. I feel safe with you. That’s a feeling I haven’t had with anyone before, and seeing I’ve only just met up with you, I reckon it speaks volumes.”
“You’re not coming back when you leave here,” he said in a hard voice.
“There’s time to think about that yet,” she said, and kissed him again.
Two men were with Josephson — two Latins with thin, dark moustaches. Josephson was listening to a small device which he was holding tightly to his ear. One of the Latins, sitting forward with hunched shoulders, said impatiently, “You are going to tell us the device still does not work—”
“Shut your trap,” Josephson hissed. “De bug’s all right now.” He clapped a hand to each ear and his face showed his concentration.
After a while the Latin asked, “What are they doing?”
“What you think?”
The Latins sniggered together. Someminutes later Josephson said softly, his eyes gleaming, “He’s tryin’ to convince de girl she’s better off out… and she ain’t havin’ any. She’s stickin’ to him.” He added, “Pete Omofouloo won’ like dat at all.”
“Love,” said one of the Latins with a simper. “Ain’t it grand!”
“I reckon,” Josephson announced five minutes later, “he’s said plenty. No need for more checks. Seems like he’s de guy you want, sure ’nough.”
The Latins exchanged glances. “What you say we flush them out now?” one of them said. The other nodded. “A little bit of fun, Mister Josephson… with the cat, no?”