“How long can you wait?” Her voice was now as harsh as his.
“Ten days… not more.”
“If I give you this money, Daz, will you come and live here?” How easy it was to lie to this poor cow, Daz thought.
“You mean move in? You want me here?”
“Yes.” She tried to control her voice. “I want you here.”
“It would be nice… yes, of course. I could get a job, and we could be together. But why talk about it?”
“I think I can manage,” Natalie threw off her wrap. She dropped down beside him on the bed. “You love me, don’t you, Daz?”
That old jazz, he thought and pulled her to him.
“You know I do. I’m crazy about you.”
“Then love me!”
While Daz slept by her side, Natalie lay staring into the darkness, her mind busy. She knew it would be hopeless to ask Shalik to lend her a thousand pounds. Even as she was telling Daz that she thought she could get the money for him, she had been thinking of Charles Burnett of the National Bank of Natal.
Natalie was well aware of the espionage and counter-espionage that goes on in present day big business. She knew Burnett had been hinting that he would pay for information and she had treated the hint with the contempt it had deserved but now under pressure with the real risk of losing Daz forever, she found she was much less scrupulous.
Before dozing off, she made up her mind to contact Burnett. Leaving Daz sleeping, she had gone to the Royal Towers hotel the following morning.
She quickly arranged Shalik’s mail on his desk, left a note to remind him of his various engagements for the day and then returned to her office.
At this hour, she knew Shalik was being shaved and dressed by the hateful Sherborn. She hesitated only briefly, then called the National Bank of Natal.
She was put through immediately to Charles Burnett who had already been alerted by Daz by telephone what to expect.
“Of course, Miss Norman. I will be delighted to meet you again. When would it be convenient?”
“At your office at 13.15 hrs.,” Natalie told him.
“Then I will expect you.”
When she arrived, Burnett greeted her like a benign uncle. Natalie told him abruptly that she needed one thousand pounds.
“It is a large sum,” Burnett said, studying his pink finger nails, “but not impossible.” He looked up, his eyes no longer benign. “You are an intelligent woman, Miss Norman. I don’t have to spell it out to you. You want money: I want information concerning Mr. Shalik’s activities that might have the remotest reference to Mr. Max Kahlenberg of Natal.”
Natalie stiffened.
During the past few days she had learned from scribbled notes on Shalik’s desk and from overhearing him talk to Sherborn that something important was being planned that concerned a man named Max Kahlenberg who until this moment had meant nothing to her.
All Shalik’s private correspondence was typed by Sherborn. Natalie’s job was to arrange Shalik’s appointments, his lunches and dinners and to act as hostess at his cocktail parties as well as taking care of the hundred and one personal matters that made his life smooth and easy.
“I don’t think I can help there,” she said, dismay in her voice. “I’m excluded from Mr. Shalik’s business life, but I do know something is going on to do with a man called Kahlenberg.”
Burnett smiled.
“I can help you, Miss Norman. Your task will be absurdly easy. Let me explain…”
Twenty minutes later, she accepted a plastic shopping bag he had ready which contained a miniature tape-recorder, six reels of tape and a very special eavesdropping microphone.
“The quality of the recordings, Miss Norman, will naturally influence the amount of money I will pay you. However, if you are urgently in need of a thousand pounds and providing you give me something of interest, the money will be available.”
Now, after eight days, he was here in her flat, his fat, purple face creased in a smile, his blood red carnation a status symbol.
“My dear Miss Norman, what is all the urgency about?”
During the past three days, Burnett’s microphone had eavesdropped.
During the past eight days Daz had slept with her, sweeping her into a world of technicolor eroticism. She had promised him the money and he was prepared to service her, telling himself that in the dark, all cats were grey.
“I have information regarding Mr. Kahlenberg which you will wish to hear,” Natalie said. The whisky she had drunk made her feel reckless and light headed.
“Splendid.” Burnett crossed one fat leg over the other. “Let me hear it.”
“Mr. Shalik is arranging to steal the Caesar Borgia ring from Mr. Kahlenberg,” Natalie said. “I have three tapes, recording the details of the operation and who are involved.”
“The Borgia ring?” Burnett was surprised. “So he is after that? My congratulations, Miss Norman. Play me the tapes.”
She shook her head.
“I want one thousand pounds in ten pound notes before you hear the tapes, Mr. Burnett.”
His smile became fixed.
“Now, Miss Norman, that won’t do. How do I know you even have the tapes? I must hear them… let us be reasonable.”
She had the tape-recorder already loaded and she let him listen to three minutes conversation between Shalik and Garry Edwards, then as Shalik was saying, “All that will be explained tonight. You will not be alone. The risks and responsibilities will be shared,” she pressed the stop button.
“But nothing so far has been said about Mr. Kahlenberg,” Burnett pointed out, looking hungrily at the tape recorder.
“When you have brought me the money, you will hear the rest, but not before.”
They regarded each other and Burnett saw it would be useless to try to persuade her. He got to his feet, reminding himself that one thousand pounds meant as much to Max Kahlenberg as one penny meant to the Prime Minister of England.
Two hours later, his Saturday afternoon ruined, Burnett was back with the money. He listened to the tapes, his fat, purple face becoming more and more startled. He realized as he listened that he was getting these tapes cheaply.
“Splendid, Miss Norman,” he said as she wound off the last tape. “Really splendid. You have certainly earned your fee. Any further information you can get like that I will, of course, pay you as handsomely.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Natalie said. Her face was white and her expression of self-loathing startled Burnett. She thrust the tiny tape recorder at him. “Take it away!”
“Now, Miss Norman…”
“Take it! Take it!” she screamed and fearing a scene, Burnett grabbed the recorder and the three tapes and hurriedly left. It was only on his way down in the lift that he realized she hadn’t returned the expensive eavesdropping microphone. He wondered if he should go back for it, but her distraught face and the wild look in her eyes warned him not to. He would pick up the micro-, phone after the week-end when she would be calmer.
Some three hours later, Daz returned to the flat. He had already checked with Burnett who had told him the money was waiting for him.
Elated that he was going to lay his hands on such a sum, he had dated a chick to meet him at Billy Walker’s Boozer that was once an elegant restaurant and from there they would go to a club in King’s Road and from there into her bed.
He was through with Natalie. With a thousand pounds in hand and with his know-how, Dublin would be the place for him.
He was slightly startled when he entered the flat to find Natalie sitting on the settee, white faced, trembling and crying.
“What the hell’s up?” he demanded, thinking how ugly she looked.
She dabbed her eyes and straightened.
“I have the money, Daz.”