The coffee was served.
Frost was so wrapped up in his futile dream of wealth that he wasn’t aware that Marcia was studying him searchingly.
‘A nickel for your thoughts,’ she said.
Frost smiled crookedly.
‘This joint! All these slobs with money. What I wouldn’t do to be one of them!’
‘I told you, honey: this is the city of the fast buck,’ Marcia said. ‘You’ve only just arrived. Be patient.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘I have a call to make,’ and before he could get to his feet, she was already walking away, waving to people who waved languidly back.
The wine waiter appeared.
‘A cognac, sir?’
‘Go peddle your swill someplace else,’ Frost snarled. He felt so frustrated he had the urge to get away from this lush room with all these stinking rich around him, but he restrained himself. He had come here for one purpose: to get this blonde, sensational woman on a bed.
He was finishing his coffee when Marcia joined him.
‘Let’s go now and look at my etchings,’ she said, and looking up, Frost saw the hot desire in her grey-green eyes.
As he pushed back his chair, feeling a wave of lust run through him, he wasn’t to know the intimate corner table at which they had sat was bugged and every word of their conversation was now on tape.
Their explosive union was over.
Frost lay on the king size bed, staring up at his reflection in the mirror that covered the ceiling. This was an angle of his body he had never seen before, and he felt a male pride in his muscles, his tanned lean body, the length of his legs and his handsomeness. In the past, he had had countless women, but, apart from a coloured air hostess who he still remembered with awe, he couldn’t recall any other woman being so technically expert and as satisfying as Marcia.
She was, of course, a pro. She knew all the tricks, but unless he was kidding himself, he thought he had really turned her on. But had he? Being cynical, and always suspicious of women, he reminded himself she just might have been putting on an act.
He listened to the sound of the shower in the bathroom across the room, then he looked at his strap watch. The time was 16.15. He still had some hours before he reported for another night’s stint at the Grandi villa.
Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked around the big room that was immediately above the restaurant. He thought die room must be soundproofed as he heard no sound from below. To his right was a big window that overlooked the swimming pool and the colourful garden. Marcia had told him the window was of one-way glass. He could stand naked before it, looking out, and no one below could see him.
The big room reeked of wealth. The white lamb’s-wool carpet, the almost silent air conditioner, the mirrors, wall-to-wall, and on the ceiling, the elaborate cocktail bar, the soft swing music coming from concealed speakers, and the rest of the trappings created a de luxe nest for men who could afford to pay the money Frost longed to have.
Marcia came from the bathroom. She was naked. Frost felt a little catch at his throat. She was really something to look at, he thought, and lust stirred in him as he sat up and swung his feet to the carpet.
‘Honey, you must go now,’ Marcia said, slipping into frilly panties. ‘I have to get back to work.’
‘Okay.’ Frost stood up.
She was now in slacks and a T-shirt. As she ran a comb through her silky blonde hair, she said, ‘Go down to the pool, Mike. I want you to have a ball here.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m going to see a lot of you, honey.’ She reached in her handbag, then taking out what looked like a credit card, she came over to him. ‘Take this, honey.’
Frost took the card and regarded it suspiciously.
‘What’s this?’
‘You flash it around honey, and everything here is for free. It’s a member’s card, only you don’t get a check.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’ Frost demanded aggressively. ‘I pay my way,’ but he held on to the card, staring at it, seeing his name printed on it.
‘It’s a tax deductible gimmick,’ Marcia explained. ‘You’re not the only one. How else do you imagine we can run a place on this scale? Take it, and don’t get on your high horse. I do something for you, you do something for me,’ and her hand went down on his crotch for a brief moment, then she moved away, smiling at him.
Frost grinned at her. He again stared at the card.
‘You really mean this card takes care of the check?’
‘That’s what I said. Get dressed, Mike, and get the hell out of here!’ There was now a snap in her voice. ‘Go down and have a ball. I’ve got work to do!’
‘Yeah... sure.’ He scrambled into his clothes. ‘You mean I can go down there and act like one of those slobs?’
She laughed.
‘That’s what I mean. See you tomorrow. We’ll have a repeat performance. Same time at the Spanish Bay. Okay?’
Frost grabbed her and kissed her.
‘You bet it’s okay.’
He walked down the stairs, leading to the vast terrace and the pool, clutching the credit card she had given him.
Marcia watched him go, then she shut the door and turned the key. She leaned against the door and drew in a long, deep breath.
One of the narrow mirrors on the wall, facing her, suddenly slid aside, and a man moved into the room. This man was Marcia’s uncle: the only man she really feared. His name was Lu Silk. By profession he was a killer, hiring himself out to the highest bidder. Providing you had the right introduction, and you were rich enough, anyone who was putting pressure on you, was being a continual nuisance, who was fooling around with your wife or your girlfriend was quickly dead after you contacted Silk. Silk was a professional. His killings never came back to him.
He had a sinister appearance: hatchet-faced, with a glass right eye and a white scar running down his left cheek. It was the glass eye that terrified Marcia. When he spoke to her, she found herself staring with horror at the glass eye and never at his live one.
Silk was around forty-six years of age, tall, thin and dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. His grey-black hair was slightly receding. Around his sinewy left wrist was a heavy gold bracelet: around his right wrist was a black-faced quartz watch.
For the past two years, Silk had worked exclusively for Herman Radnitz who was perhaps the most evil and powerful force behind the world’s political scene. Silk was on a retaining salary of four thousand dollars a month. At a moment’s notice, he had to make himself available to wipe out a nuisance who was bothering Radnitz. When the killing had been expertly accomplished, a large sum of money was paid into Silk’s Swiss banking account. This arrangement had suited Silk well enough, but for the past two months, he had been idle. Radnitz was in Peking, and was then moving to Delhi. He had told Silk to take a vacation.
This vacation of unknown duration worried Silk. He was a high spender, and a compulsive, unlucky gambler. For some time now, he had been thinking of ways and means to break away from Radnitz. He was getting the impression that Radnitz was going to use his killing talents less and less. It was time, Silk told himself, to make provision for his future.
He had an arrangement with Marcia that, when she entertained a client for lunch or dinner, a tape recording of the conversation should be made available to him. Over the past week the various conversations he had listened to had given him food for thought. Several possibilities had alerted his active mind: a chance for blackmail, a chance to make a quick profit on the stock market, a chance for extortion, but, after thought, he had decided the risk involved didn’t justify the gain. Sooner or later, he told himself, something important would turn up. He aimed for the Big One that would put him on the gravy train for the rest of his days: nothing but the Big One would satisfy him.