Durant stalked into the living room.
Feeling relaxed and very well fed, I escorted Loretta as far as the living room door, then paused. I saw Durant was lighting a cigar and was settling in an armchair.
I had no intention of spending the rest of the evening with him.
‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ I said, and looked directly at her.
She smiled.
‘You have done very well, John,’ she said. ‘Sleep well,’ and she moved past me to join Durant.
With Mazzo at my heels, I returned to my suite.
‘Look, palsy,’ Mazzo said as soon as he closed the door, ‘I told you . . .’
‘Who the hell do you think you’re speaking to?’ I demanded, rounding on him. ‘Shut up! Get the hell out of here!’ and I stamped into the bedroom and slammed the door.
I stood waiting to see if he would come in and start trouble, but he didn’t. After a long moment, I went into the bathroom and removed the mask, took a shower and, putting on pajamas, I got into bed.
I turned off all the lights except the tiny pilot light at the head of the bed, then I relaxed in comfort and thought back on the day.
The day seemed to me to have gone satisfactorily. I had passed a test with Jonas, and that was important. I had now four thousand dollars in the bank. I was controlling Mazzo. I was even getting the edge on Durant.
Yes, it had been a satisfactory day.
I closed my eyes and let my mind dwell on Loretta. I was still thinking about her when I drifted off into sleep. I slept for several hours, then came awake.
The room was in darkness.
The warmth of a naked body pressed against me.
Gentle fingers caressed me.
Only half awake, I reached out, rolled over, letting her hand guide me into her.
* * *
‘No, don’t move. Stay still.’
She was whispering to me, her face against mine. She was holding me tight inside her. I eased my weight off her on my elbows.
‘No, don’t do that. Crush me,’ she whispered so I relaxed, feeling drained and drifted off into an erotic sleep.
Later, much later, with the light of the dawn coming through the shutters. I came awake. I was now lying beside her, and in the dawn light I could see her, awake, looking at me, a half-smile to welcome me out of a satiated sleep.
‘Hi, Jerry,’ she said.
I put my arms around her and pulled her to me.
We made slow, marvelous love, then I went back to sleep again.
The sun was bright through the shutters when I again opened my eyes.
She was talking to Jonas who was wheeling in a trolley. She had on a turquoise robe and her Cleopatra hairdo was immaculate.
As I watched her, half hidden behind the sheet, I thought she looked the most marvelous woman in the world.
Jonas poured the coffee, not looking in my direction, then he bowed and went away.
I rolled out of bed.
She was now sitting by the trolley, sipping coffee and she smiled at me as I joined her.
‘Sleep well, Jerry?’
I sat down, sipped coffee, then lit a cigarette.
‘An exceptional woman: an exceptional night.’
She laughed.
‘John would never think of saying that, but John isn’t a romantic lover.’
I looked directly at her.
‘Where is your husband?’
‘Yes, it is time you knew. I’ll have one of your cigarettes.’
I lit the cigarette and passed it to her.
After a long pause, she went on, ‘Jerry, this is a very complicated and difficult situation. I don’t have to tell you who my husband is and what his position is.’
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ I said.
‘Everything I am going to tell you is in strict confidence,’ she went on, looking straight at me. ‘Is that understood?’
‘Sure.’
‘John is suffering from an obscure and incurable mental illness. It attacked him two years ago. This illness begins with loss of memory, vagueness and inactivity. The progress of the illness is slow. He was already beginning to react to this illness when I first met him. I thought he was preoccupied with business and when he was with me in the evenings, I tolerated his long silences, believing he was planning some new deal. Six months ago, he began to deteriorate fast.
Long before I did, his mother suspected that he was becoming mentally ill. There is a specialist in Vienna who is discreet. He examined John and told his mother find me that in a few months’ time, John would become a vegetable, and there was no hope of a cure.’
‘That’s tough,’ I said. ‘It’s hard to believe.’
‘Yes, but there are complications. It is absolutely necessary to keep his illness a secret. This is the reason why you have been hired to impersonate him to give us time to reconstruct the Ferguson kingdom. It is a fantastic kingdom put together by John. Durant was and is John’s right hand, but even Durant wasn’t let into a number of secret and big deals John negotiated. Now, John can’t handle any of this, Durant is trying to put the pieces of the scattered jigsaw, that makes up John’s kingdom, into place, and he is discovering that without John at the helm, without his signature on various documents, the kingdom could collapse.’
I was listening hard, and I stared at her.
‘Why should it collapse?’
‘John has over expanded. He has been borrowing enormous sums of money from the banks and the insurance people. He has such a reputation, his name is gold, but if it became known he was mentally ill, his creditors would call in their loans. There are several vast deals due to be finalized in a month’s time. John’s signature is essential. Once the deals are completed, then the news can slowly leak that John is ill, and finally, that he is no longer in control. By that time Durant will have set up a board of directors with himself in John’s place, and the Ferguson kingdom will continue on its prosperous way.’
‘Nice for Durant,’ I said, my mind busy.
‘Yes.’ She regarded me. ‘You are a marvelous lover, Jerry.’
‘You are too,’ I said, startled by this swift change of mood.
‘I have been watching you. You take to the role of a billionaire marvelously. There are moments when I believe you feel you are John Merrill Ferguson.’
I gave her a crooked grin.
‘We actors get carried away sometimes.’
She studied me.
‘The disguise is marvelous, and the voice. You could be John.’
‘I’m not.’
‘I said you could be.’
I looked at her. There was a long pause. I felt a sudden tingle of excitement.
‘Yes, maybe I could.’ Again we looked at each other, then I went on, ‘There’s something I should know. Where is your husband?’
‘In the left wing. He has his own suite. A nurse looks after him. He is well paid and trustworthy.’
I thought of Larry Edwards and Charles Duvine. I wondered when the time came for the news of Ferguson’s mental illness to be leaked whether the nurse would also have a fatal accident.
