Silhouette in Scarlet - Elizabeth Peters [29]
Leif looked at me in alarm. ‘Do not break down until we reach your room. You will tell me all. It will relieve you.’
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I reeled across the lobby and leaned on the desk, my face hidden in my hands and my shoulders heaving.
‘She is not well,’ Leif explained to the mystified concierge. ‘Pay no attention. I will escort her to her room.’
‘No, you won’t.’ I recovered in time to grab the key, which the concierge was offering to Leif. ‘I’m fine, I’m perfectly all right. Goodnight, Leif. Thanks for a very entertaining evening.’
‘But – ’ Leif began.
‘No buts. I appreciate your efforts to protect me from myself . . .’ The image of the flower on the trash heap flashed onto my mental screen. The flower was a petunia – a wilted purple petunia. I covered my mouth with my hand and ran for the elevator.
By the time I reached my room my amusement had faded. Leif couldn’t be that dumb. Nobody could be that dumb. Who the devil was he anyway, and what did he want? He didn’t fit into the scenario I had constructed earlier. The fat man who had been following us was another extraneous character. He might be a figment of Leif’s imagination, designed to frighten me into confidentiality. If so, he was a singularly unconvincing invention; I’d have expected Leif to come up with something far more sinister. Please, God, I prayed silently – make John keep that appointment. Once I got my hands on that sneaky devil, I’d hold on to him until he came clean.
He was late. It was almost one a.m. before I heard the signal. I picked up one of the table lamps and held it poised as I opened the door.
John slid into the room and closed the door. Except for red hair and a heavy tan, he had made no attempt to disguise himself.
‘Aunt Ingeborg, I presume,’ I said.
‘Damn.’ John kept a wary eye on the lamp. ‘So you’ve spoken with Gustaf. I hoped you hadn’t.’
‘Why? Wasn’t getting me and Gustaf together the point of this whole exercise?’
‘Would you mind putting that lamp down?’
‘I’d like to put it down on your head. Sit – over there, where I can keep an eye on you. And then talk. I want to know everything.’
He didn’t sit down. He kept shifting his weight, like a fighter who expects attack from several directions at once.
‘I’ve only one thing to say, Vicky. I’ll say it as succinctly as possible, and then I’m off. Go back to Munich. Catch the first plane tomorrow.’
He was reaching for the doorknob when I brought the lamp down on his arm. Out of consideration for the hotel and my depleted traveller’s cheques I didn’t hit as hard as I wanted to, but it was hard enough to make John pull his hand away. I got my back against the door.
‘Talk,’ I said. ‘You went to a lot of trouble to set this up. However, your confederate in the States isn’t very up-to-date. Aunt Ingeborg died eight months ago.’
A shadow of vexation crossed John’s face. It was replaced by a much livelier expression. ‘Vicky, this is no time to discuss my organizational problems. Matters have gone awry – decidedly awry. The deal is off. Cancelled, kaput, finis, finito. Is that precise enough for you?’
‘You’re scared stiff,’ I said. ‘My God, you have your nerve, you bastard. Dragging me into a situation that terrifies you out of your wits, like a damned sitting duck – ’
‘Christ Almighty, do you think I’d have brought you here if I had known what was going to happen?’ We were yelling at each other, our faces only inches apart; his cheeks and forehead shone with a thin film of perspiration. ‘I didn’t realize he was involved. My informant must have double-crossed me – sold the information twice – ’
‘If you don’t mention a name pretty soon, I am going to call the police,’ I said, brandishing the lamp. ‘Who the devil are you talking about? Leif?’
‘Who the devil is Leif?’ He jumped a good inch off the floor as a heavy fist hit the door right next