They didn't drift off quickly. There was too much tension, too much waiting for someone to make an advance. But the forced silence gradually sapped the fury of the emotional storm.
Cash slept, but awakened with the dawn.
Beth snored fitfully beside him, sprawled on her back. Obviously she was used to sleeping alone.
Cash touched himself. He had one of those throbbing morning erections that a cat couldn't scratch.
He lifted himself onto one elbow, eased the sheet off the bed.
"Nice," he whispered.
She really did have a dynamite body.
His heart hammered. He shook all over. It was like the first time ever all over again.
He was going to do it.
He bent to one of those magnificent breasts.
• • •
Frank came pounding on the door shortly after ten. "Hey. Norm. Come on. Get up."
They came out of bed grabbing for clothes.
"In the bathroom," Cash whispered. "What do you want?" he growled.
"Come on. We've got to move."
Norm dragged his shorts on and stumbled to the door. "Man, what's all the racket for?" he demanded as he opened up.
"She's here. Your target. Cabbie just took her out there. She sent him back for a bunch of luggage."
"We've got to grab that. There's a trunk I want."
"I'll call the Rochester P.D. while you get dressed. Want me to get Beth? Tran's already over at the cafe."
Cash's heart hammered. "No. I'll take care of it. Just get somebody on to that trunk. That'll make my case."
"Ah. I see." Segasture hurried off.
What had he meant by that? Cash wondered. And by that sudden little grin?
He understood the instant he turned. Beth had missed her purse and bra in her rush to the bathroom.
"Oh, shit."
But what could he do? The horse had escaped. Better play it cool, say nothing, and hope that Frank did the same. "Hey, babe, I need the shower."
Blushing all over, Beth came for her bra.
They were even more impressive when she was standing.
"Male chauvinist," he murmured.
"See if there's anybody outside," she said softly. "I have to go change."
Cash peeked out. "It's okay."
She started to leave. He stopped her, lifted her chin, kissed her lightly. "Thank you, Beth."
She clung to him momentarily, head against his chest. "Thank you." She left.
He didn't think it would happen again. Her need had been filled. As once he had filled Teri's need with a refusal.
When would his turn come?
Norm found breakfast awaiting him. "Beginning to look like you're hooked on this one, too, Frank."
"It was the major's idea. He was afraid you wouldn't eat unless you were put under obligation."
Tran smiled. "We have to care for ourselves first."
Cash drained half a cup of coffee, pushed it aside so the waitress could refill it. "I'm looking forward to today. But now that I'm here, and she's here, I don't feel any big rush anymore. Did you order for Beth?"
"Yes. But I assumed she would take longer. Women usually do."
"Frank, you were right. He's too damned smart." Cash wondered if Tran were smart enough to have figured the night's happening. Not that it mattered. The man would keep his mouth shut.
It had been ages since he had felt so relaxed, so fulfilled, so at peace. He had Beth to thank.
She arrived looking bright and cheerful and not the least bit guilty.
Cash felt no guilt himself, to his surprise. Maybe it would set in after the euphoria passed.
The waitress quickly arrived with Beth's breakfast.
I'm getting close to it now, Cash thought, visualizing Miss Groloch's elfin face.
"Here's how I figure we should do it," Segasture said, and began outlining a plan.
XXVIII. On the X Axis;
1975
She paid the cabbie, tipping generously, then added twenty dollars and asked him to recover her baggage from the railway station. She watched him pull away, then marched up the winding, rose-flanked walk to the door.
He responded almost as if he had been waiting.
"Fiala! What are you doing here?" He spoke German. His English remained as broken as hers. "Come on in."
The house was old, rich, dark. It had changed little with the years.
Fial had. He had aged.
But sixty years separated this meeting from their last.
A woman of sixty, confused and embarrassed, rushed from the rear of the house. "I'm sorry, Herr Koppel. I was in the bathroom." She, too, spoke German, but with a northern accent.
"That's all right, Greta. You and Hans take the car into town, will you? Catch up on your shopping."
The woman withdrew with a slight, stiff, Teutonic bow. She seemed accustomed to disappearing when strangers arrived.
"My God, that woman is ugly."
"But the perfect housekeeper. Absolutely close-mouthed. She and her husband have been with me since forty-nine. They're refugees. I think they were involved with the SS. Whatever, they don't attract any attention."
"Koppel?"
"I changed names during the Depression. My business connections were beginning to wonder about my longevity. It seemed like a good time to disappear. Financial empires were crumbling right and left. But you haven't told me why you're here."
"I had to run. I had to, Fial. After I saw him, and the policeman… I couldn't stay there anymore. It was all closing in…"
The old man guided her to an overstuffed chair. "Sit. I'll make some tea. You settle down. Get your thoughts organized."
One familiar with Fiala would have guessed Fial to be as fussy and old-fashioned as his sister. The interiors of their homes were almost interchangeable, though Fial's place was larger and more carefully maintained. He didn't fear carpenters, electricians, or plumbers.
Fial had two cats and a dog. The beagle, a bitch, was seventeen and so feeble she could barely move. She had lost so many teeth that Greta had to spoon-feed her baby food. Yet Fial refused to have her put to sleep.
Fial returned in ten minutes. "Now tell me about it. From the beginning. I really didn't understand your letters."
"First I'd better tell you. I saw Neulist."
"What?" Fial sprang from his chair, began pacing. "How do you know?"
"I can't tell how. I just knew who he was when I saw him. Maybe because I was unconsciously expecting him."
"We're supposed to have orderly minds," Fial reminded her. "Minds forged and honed by the State. Let's apply them. Go back to the beginning."
He was worried; this lack of pleasantries, this minimization of the amenities, indicated a fear that something critical was in the wind, that they might have to act swiftly.
"It started with the body in the alley."
"I don't understand why the police were so excited. In this country the alleys are carpeted with corpses."