thirties. He was clean-cut, with short brown hair that matched his cold eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, he, like his partner, appeared to be freshly shaven and smelled of cologne. He could have been an up-and-coming stockbroker, except that instead of an attach6 case he held the blackjack that had served as my alarm clock in his right hand. In his left hand he held Veil's painting.
The second man wore a charcoal-striped suit. He was middle-aged, with thinning gray hair and thick eyeglass lenses. Standing to my left, he suddenly bent down, and when he straightened up I could see that he was holding one of my bath towels, which was sopping wet.
They were top-of-the-line professionals, I thought, tough-minded and cold-blooded. They were also obviously well equipped, since by breaking into my apartment without a sound they had managed to bypass not only a most suspicious concierge in the lobby, but my own alarm system and a double lock as well. I was impressed. It occurred to me to ask what they wanted, but I was fairly certain they'd get around to that in time, and I wanted to conserve what little breath and energy I had.
'I'm sorry for your discomfort, Dr. Frederickson,' the older man said in a soft voice that was just above a whisper. There were no chairs in the small room, and so he eased himself down on the edge of the bed, a foot or so from my head, and casually crossed one leg over the other. Then he snaked the wet towel out across the floor, like a whip. 'I hope we won't have to hurt you again. Experience has taught us that it is often best to begin with an intense, sudden burst of great pain, so as to save a person even greater agony over a prolonged period of time.' He paused, gently rubbed my diaphragm, helping me to breathe. 'See? I think you're feeling better already, no? Please answer all our questions fully, without raising your voice. We certainly don't want to wake up any of your neighbors, and everyone knows that even the best buildings in New York have walls that are notoriously thin.'
I most certainly did want to wake any and all of my neighbors, whether those on either side of me or those across the hall. I sucked in a deep breath and was just about to let loose with what I hoped would be a blood- curdling scream when the thick, wet towel snapped through the air and slapped across my face. A fraction of a second later the blackjack thudded into the bare sole of my left foot. A pain with a quality quite unlike anything I'd experienced before shot up through my left leg, slammed into my groin and belly, then traveled in a shock wave up my spine into my skull, where it seemed to expand to the point where it felt as if my eyeballs were being pushed from my head. It got a blood-curdling scream out of me all right, but, with the wet towel over my face, I was the only one who heard it.
No sooner had the shock waves from the first blow begun to subside-gradually, like water sloshing in a pail- than the blackjack slammed into the sole of my right foot, starting the process all over again. Another smothered scream.
Just as it seemed I would pass out from pain or lack of air, or both, the towel was removed from by face. Sucking air, my chest and stomach heaving, I turned my head as far as I was able and vomited again. When I was finished, the man with the thick glasses used a corner of the wet towel to wipe my face clean, then heaved a deep sigh and slowly shook his head. With a flick of his wrist, the towel was snaked back into snapping position.
The younger man at the foot of the bed who had hit me held up Veil's painting.
'Please, Dr. Frederickson,' the man sitting on the side of my bed said in the same, soft voice. 'Save yourself needless suffering; no more nonsense. Tell us about the painting.'
'What the hell do you want to know that you don't already know?' I sobbed, gasping for breath. My joints felt locked, welded together with pain. 'You wouldn't even know about me or be here unless you'd had Kendry's phone tapped. You've already heard everything there is for me to tell.'
'Who else have you discussed this matter with besides your brother?'
'Nobody.'
'Are you sure? We don't want to have to hurt you again.'
'I'm sure.'
'We wish to know every place you've been since leaving Mr. Kendry's loft this morning.'
'If you know when I left the loft, then you must know where I went. Weren't you following me?'
The younger man let his right hand drop, and the cold black leather cover of the sap brushed my sole. I cringed and closed my eyes, but no blow came. When I opened my eyes, I found my interrogator looking at the younger man with a distinct air of disapproval. 'You were just a bit too quick for us in the subway,' he said, turning his thick lenses back on me. 'I'm afraid that lapse on our part is what necessitates this conversation. We have quite a few lost hours to account for.'
'In that case, you can pick up Blackjack Barney down there and go home. From the time I left the loft, I didn't have time for anything but business. I ran in the subway because I was late. Unless you've got wax in your ears, you heard my brother and me discussing the lecture I was sup-'
'Did you give the lecture?'
'Yes.'
'That's the kind of response we like. Don't concern yourself with what you think we must have heard. Just answer the questions.'
'How did you know who I was, and where I live?'
'You're much too modest, Dr. Frederickson. How many noted criminology professors of your stature, so to speak, are nicknamed 'Mongo'? As a result of some of your past exploits, you enjoy a measure of fame.'
'Lucky me.'
'And, of course, you're listed in the directory. Where did you go after your lecture?'
'To my office.'
'Which office? You have two.'
'My campus office. When I said I was involved in business all that time, I meant university business. I didn't do any investigating. I had examination papers to grade. I finished up around a half past seven and came home. Who do you guys work for?'
'Where is the money you mentioned, Dr. Frederickson?'
'In the bank.'
'Really?' The thick gray brows above the thick lenses lifted slightly. 'I don't recall you mentioning that you'd been to the bank when I asked where you'd been.'
'I forgot.' The blackjack brushed the sole of my right foot. 'It wasn't a big deal,' I added quickly. 'The bank is just off campus. I also went to the post office.'
'Why?'
'I sent Kendry a letter explaining why I'd taken the painting and the money, just to cover myself. I also mailed a copy to myself.'
'You should have minded your own business, Frederickson.'
'You're telling me! You see, I had this peculiar idea that he might be having trouble with some nasty people. Now that I see how wrong
I was, I have a good mind to put those things back where I found them and forget about the whole thing.'
He was a tough audience, and he didn't even smile. 'Did you send copies of this letter to anyone else?'
'No.' Garth didn't need these two jokers showing up on his doorstep. 'From the post office, I went back to my office.'
'You'd best be careful not to forget anything else, Dr. Frederickson,' the older man said evenly. 'It would be a shame for you to suffer any more agony just because you can't remember events that happened only a few hours ago. Now, has your brother seen this painting?'
'No. Even if I'd had time to show it to him, which I didn't, he wouldn't have been interested; you heard him on the phone. Why don't you just tell me what this is all about? If you do, maybe we can save time. What do you want?'
'Just continue to answer our questions truthfully, Dr. Frederickson.'
'Why is the painting so important? What does it mean?'
'That's not your concern.'
'Where's Veil Kendry?'
'Besides yourself, who else has seen this painting?'
'A few hundred cops, most of them police chiefs.'
The man with the blackjack started to swing, then stopped when my interrogator held up his hand. But the
