“Tell me about Dempsey and Kleppe.”
She sat up slowly, brushing the hair from her face so that she could look at him.
“Are you in New York often, Pete?”
“Quite often.”
“D’you think I’m attractive?”
“Sure. But you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“How about a deal, Pete. I’ll screw any time you want. And I’ll tell you what I know about Kleppe. But we leave Andy out of it. Yes?”
“Why are you so protective about Dempsey?”
“You won’t believe it, mister, but I love him. He wouldn’t believe me either. But I’d do anything for him.”
“Did you ever pay back the five grand?”
“Not in money.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “He sometimes wants me to screw with friends of his. Business people or buddies. He said he’d rather have it that way.”
“Does he sleep with you?”
“Oh, sure he does.”
“What’s Dempsey’s relationship with Kleppe?”
She shook her head slowly.
“No more about Andy. Let’s go in my bedroom.”
“Tell me about Kleppe.”
“I don’t know much. He’s rich and tough. And he knows everybody. Not just in New York but all over. He’s in jewellery. A loner.”
“D’you sleep with him?”
“No. I think he wanted to but Andy headed him off. He’s got girls. I’m too old for him, he likes teenagers.”
“Does he live alone?”
“As far as I know.”
“What do they talk about, Jenny?”
The big, blue eyes looked at him, and she shook her head.
“You can do anything you want. Anything.”
He sighed. “Jenny, you’re very beautiful but I’m a policeman. You know I can’t do deals like that.”
“There’s at least ten from NYPD who come here for free. Lieutenants, captains, you name it.”
“Jenny. Andy Dempsey is already involved. There’s no way you can protect him. He doesn’t need to know that you told me. Stay out of it.”
There were tears in the big eyes and her lips trembled as she reached for a Kleenex.
“If I tell you …”
There was a ring on the door and the girl stopped speaking. She looked at Nolan.
“Is it somebody for you?”
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“No. It’s phone appointments only.”
He stood up, walked to the door and looked round. There was a paperback on the table and he picked it up and slid it behind the far edge of the mirror on the wall. It tilted the mirror so that it reflected most of the door. He nodded to the girl and whispered, “Don’t check. Just open the door about a foot but keep on one side near me.”
She stood up and tied the belt of the emerald robe. She was trembling as she stood beside him. He saw her hand close round the ornate brass knob and turn it slowly. Then his eyes went to the mirror. He saw the hand and the Walther and he slammed the door shut with his shoulder. He felt it crunch against flesh and bone and somebody screamed as the pistol clattered to the floor. He gripped the hand and flung open the door, and pulled in the man with one long movement. Still holding the man’s wrist, he bent down and gathered the gun. There was a silencer, and the safety catch was off.
The man stood there, his top lip curled back in pain, his right hand hanging limp and useless. He was tall and thin, pale blue eyes in a sallow face, and one eyelid quivered as he looked at Nolan. The girl stood by the telephone, holding her robe with folded arms.
“What’s your name?”
The man stood silently, the only movement was the quivering eye.
Nolan pulled back the slide of the pistol and a round flew out and rattled against the leg of the coffee table. Another round went in as he slowly released the slide. Without taking his eyes off the man he spoke to the girl.
“Go and get dressed, Jenny. Stay in your room and lock the door. Don’t come out until I tell you.”
He saw her go, from the corner of his eye, and he turned to the man.
“Take off your coat.”
He watched as the man slid off the heavy overcoat. He reached out for it and threw it on the floor beside him.
“Now strip. Undress.”
He took a long time with only one hand and the injured wrist was puffing up tight and swollen, a livid mass whose colour was spreading to the back of the hand. When the man stopped he was down to his briefs. Nolan waved the gun.
“Take those off, too.”
When the man was naked Nolan told him to sit down, and pointed with the gun at the chair.
“What’s your name?”
The man didn’t answer and Nolan reached for the swollen hand. It flapped loosely as the man tucked it between his knees. He was trembling violently as if he had an ague.
“What’s your name?” Nolan said softly.
“They’ll kill me. They’ll kill me.”
“Who will kill you?”
The man gave a shuddering sigh. “Katin’s men.”
“Did Katin send you?”
The man nodded without speaking.
“What were your orders?”
“To kill.”
“Why should they kill the girl?”
The man’s haggard face lifted, surprise in his eyes, his mouth open.
“Not the girl,” he said. “You.”
Nolan’s voice sounded thin and tense when he spoke.
“Who am I?”
“You’re CIA. Peter Fleming Nolan.”
“What makes you think that’s my name?”
“They showed me photographs of you. They told me who you were.”
“Where are you from?”
“Chicago?”
“Name?”
“Frankie Spadone.”
“How did they know I was here?”
“They’ve got a tail on you.”
“Why did they hire you? Why didn’t they do it themselves?”
Spadone shrugged. “There’s too much heat on them. They wanted an outsider.”
“How much was the contract?”
“Five grand.”
“Who gave you the orders?”
“The old fella with the glass eye. Katin. Yuri Katin.”
Nolan lifted the phone and tucked the receiver under his chin while he pressed the buttons. When the voice answered he watched Spadone as he talked.
“Ziggy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send two cars. One for me and another for the girl. There’s also one of their hit men, a local from Chicago named Spadone. Check the files on him. He needs medical attention. Bones and tendons. He’s to be guarded full-time and I don’t want him logged or booked.”
“You’re at the
