Authors: M Ruth Myers
Her lips pursed. Her eyes crackled once as they met his. She wanted to argue but didn't, keeping the promise she'd made about obeying.
"Oh, you're about to lose a button," she said, bending toward him as she stood up. Before Ellery
could blink, she reached out lightly with both hands and gave a tug at the front of his shirt. "There. Now
you won't lose it."
A breath of anger welled up from Ellery's throat. He saw the satisfaction in her look. What the hell was this? There hadn't been anything wrong with his buttons. She'd pulled one off deliberately. He'd
have to go change.
"Maybe I'd better sew it back on for you," she
said, picking it out of his hand where she'd dropped
it. She blew on the button, pressed it in place, and
Ellery looked down to see the front of his shirt com
pletely restored.
Max was gaping. Channing Stuart turned without
another word. Ellery just sat there, provoked and startled. His senses had somehow deceived him. He'd seen the button unattached. He'd felt it in his
hand.
"Ni-
i
-ice number," Max breathed as he watched
Channing's backside move toward the lodge.
"How'd she do that?"
Ellery shrugged.
Abruptly Max changed the subject, crossing his arms on the back of his chair and leaning against them.
"Listen, Ellery. You got all the glory for that job in
Atlanta. This one's mine."
"Yeah?" said Ellery. Max was one of the few peo
ple he'd ever met who was so sure of himself, he
didn't shrink from making demands like that. It
allowed the two of them to rib each other without
mercy. "Can I help it that you wrecked that flashy
car you were driving and I had to bail you out?"
He'd never decided if the rivalry between them
was real or pretended.
Max shook his head in pretended sorrow. "You
don't spare the gonads, do you? I'd only had that car
two weeks. Anyway, you owed me one for saving
your ass in Prague."
Max appropriated the half roll Channing had
abandoned and chewed with enthusiasm. Ellery
grimaced inwardly. When Max wasn't trying to daz
zle someone, he had the manners of a chimpanzee.
"Where's Walker?" Ellery asked.
"Listening post. We're set up across from
Ballieu's
room. Guess he got here last night. I'm his bird dog
this shift. He's over there behind that planter.
Thoughtful of him to wear handmade shoes so I can
make him by his feet."
Ellery realized Max was far more alert than his
casual appearance suggested. He had been watch
ing all the time. Max brought his keen gaze back to
Ellery.
"Sorry to hear about Sam."
Ellery nodded at the condolences.
"Glad you're here," said Max. "Walker's not in
peak form -- hasn't been for a couple of weeks. They
sending you a new partner, or do you go this one
alone?"
"I'm waiting for word from Oliver."
"Christ, how do you stand it, Billy? The man's a
martinet."
Max's kidding streak reappeared. His head nod
ded toward the door to the lodge, through which Channing had just disappeared.
"On second thought, I'd rather know how a sorry
s.o.b
. like you met a broad like that."
Ellery hesitated, then decided not to fight temp
tation.
"She got lost between the elevator and the
lobby," he said, keeping his face as straight as a
poker. "A real airhead if you ask me. Just the kind
you go for, as I recall."
He stood up and slapped Max's shoulder. He
owed Max this.
"Yeah?" said Max with interest. "Holy shit, Ellery!
What do you want in a woman? Einstein?"
*
*
*
Channing lifted the straw hat shading her face
and wiped irritably at the band of moisture beneath it as she walked toward the archery range. The note
the front desk had handed her had been marvelously
to the point: "Archery lesson, 11:30. Ellery."
Bill Ellery didn't waste words.
She felt annoyed with herself for having pulled
that trick with the button on him, but she'd re
sented his unvoiced message that he didn't consider
her an equal in this operation. In retrospect she
knew she wasn't. And it was that truth which she
really resented. She was effective with magic, but
how effective would she be going up against Henri
Ballieu
? She wasn't sure, and Ellery wasn't, either.
Even though it would grow still hotter as after
noon set in, the sun already scorched the
unshaded
patch of grass that was the archery range. Of all the
resort's activities, this seemed to be the most remote, which no doubt explained its selection. Putting her forearm up against the glare of the sun, Channing saw the usual round targets set up on
easels. She was glad to be acting finally, instead of
waiting. There were figures at two of the targets.
The nearer of the figures was Oliver Lemming.
"Bill's not here yet?" she asked in greeting.
The white-haired man who'd recruited her
hadn't been in evidence at the resort. Maybe he was
staying somewhere else.
"He'll be waiting in your room when you get
back," he said,
sighting
down an arrow. "As soon as
you leave here, we want you to make contact with
Ballieu
."
With a
thunk
the arrow he'd released sank into a
bull's-eye. It seemed to underscore the gravity of his words. It also impressed Channing with the
older man's physical conditioning.
"We want to make you valuable enough that
Bal
lieu
won't hurt you," he said, looking at her for the
first time. "Tell him
Yussuf
had set up a double cross
but that you can stop it if you're there when the film
changes hands. The story's your insurance policy."
"And the names I'm to drop? Of
Yussuf's
people?"
"
Marinka
in London and Colón at the
Banco
Cen
tral in Managua. Got it?"
"Got it."
He sent another arrow home, then handed her a
bow and quiver that rested nearby. With them,
Channing felt a flat, heavy envelope pass into her
hands. The full weight of her responsibility beat
into her along with the sun. She realized the enve
lope held the doctored film.
Vanishing the envelope, she
slid
her middle fin
gers into a leather guard.
"Bill told me about what happened last night,"
said Oliver.
"That's not all."
It had been years since Channing used a bow, and as her shoulders moved out and back, the man with
her tapped the inside of her left arm to correct her
form so the string would clear. She waited until
she'd released and her arrow had hit the very bot
tom of the target before she continued.
"Someone's been through my things." They were
both pretending to watch the target, but she caught
the sharpening of his expression. "I had a tape
Yussuf
gave me the other night. He told me it was
instructions for a magic trick. It's missing."
"You're sure that was all that was on it?"
"I didn't play it." Hearing the swiftness of his question, she felt more chagrined than ever by the
admission.
"Tell Bill?"
"Max Hopkins showed up before I got a chance. I
was told to run along like a good little girl."
Oliver seemed lost in thought. He motioned her to try another arrow. This time her aim was better.
He nodded approval.
"We'll go from where we are," he said. "It's all we
can do. We're getting barbecued out here. Why don't you head on back?"
*
*
*
Her hotel room gave few hints of what Channing
Stuart was like in private. Ellery noted Adler's Six
Great Ideas beside her bed, and half dollars stacked on the dresser as if she practiced magic tricks while
brushing her hair.
He heard a key in the lock, tensed to react in case
it wasn't her, then relaxed as he saw it was. She
secured the door and then took pointed note of how
he stood. One of his legs was hitched easily up across
the corner of her dresser. He'd assumed the posture
from habit. He'd always been a leaner.
"Learn anything else about me by going through
my drawers?" she asked. She wasn't pleased.
Ellery grinned.
"Damn." She realized how her words had come
out.
"Just that you were serious about switching to cotton," Ellery said.
He figured she was irritated at his invasion of her
privacy, but her safety depended on his hearing
every word of the phone call she was about to make.
She tossed her hat on the bed. He found himself
unusually conscious of her movements.
"Let's get it over with," she said crisply. "
Serafin's
downstairs, and I don't like leaving him alone for
too long."
"It's not my fault you brought him, is it?"
Ellery heard his voice hardening.
She looked cool and in control of herself in her white linen jacket, but her hands, as though moist, passed briefly over the legs of her slacks. She seemed to accept the reprimand. He wondered if beneath her hair-trigger reactions there might be a streak of common sense.
"Any last words of wisdom?" she asked.
"Just dangle enough bait to keep yourself safe."
They walked to the telephone.
She raised the receiver. He dialed. The un
rehearsed coordination of their movements felt so
natural and so perfectly timed that Ellery found himself holding his breath.
He tried not to notice her wetting her lips. He
tried not to think how she could be safe, back in her
comfortable home with her crotchety houseman.
He wondered if she ever took the easy way out of anything. Then a voice snapped to life at the other end. It was
Ballieu
.
"Hello?"
Channing's lips shaped each word carefully. She
looked across the mouthpiece, and Ellery realized
she was watching his eyes to gauge the effectiveness
of her performance.
"The deal with the film is in danger, Monsieur
Ballieu
," she said distinctly. "I can help you. Come
watch the magic act."
She raised her eyebrows, sliding a finger across
the base of the phone to break the connection be
fore
Ballieu
could answer.
Bill Ellery nodded grim approval.
Step One was over. There was no turning back.
Nine
Ballieu
strolled past the swimming pool, en
joying the heat of the sun on his body. It made him
feel young again. He was shirtless and free.
A group of boys was splashing at the deep end of
the pool, outdoing each other with leaps and belly-
whoppers off the concrete. He could hear them
taunting a younger boy who stood on the edge,
afraid to dive.
Ballieu
was fond of children. Especially the little ones. He flung out his arm, catching back the quak
ing boy of eight or thereabouts who, with tears in his eyes, was about to launch himself out.