She was staring at him with those big blue eyes. They were hypnotizing.
"What do you think I should do?"
"I think you've got the courage and integrity to take this to the State and protect others as well as yourself. That's what I think you should do."
She put her hand on his and squeezed as the last call came from the bar.
"Thanks for your confidence, but I'm still not sure. Is there someplace we can talk about this some more?"
"There's my place." The words just popped out, but Ed was glad they did. "We can talk there as long as you want."
"That sounds perfect. Let's go."
With that she was up and heading toward the door. With an excited, anticipatory tingle in his groin, Ed dropped some money on the table and hurried after her.
▼
Rob had stopped off at Midtown North, grabbed the effects bag from Doyle, and run out. As he raced east to First Avenue and then uptown, he shook Kelly's apartment keys free of the tangle within and had them ready when he slammed to a halt in front of her building.
Out of instinctive courtesy, he rapped on the door and waited a couple of seconds before unlocking it and rushing inside. Main room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—all empty. No sign of struggle, just empty.
Where the hell could Kara be?
A chilling thought struck him: What if it wasn't Kara out there roaming the city? What if it was Janine?
Or worse yet: What if this Ed Bannion character was some sort of head case who had lured her someplace tonight with the intent of seeing that she ended up like her sifter?
Rob had to find Bannion. But how? He had his office number but no one would answer at this hour. And the morning might be too late.
Rob grabbed Kelly's Manhattan white pages thumbed them open to the B's. He found Bannion. There was a truckload of them. Limiting himself to the E or Edward
Bannions narrowed it down some, but there were still plenty.
He sat down by the phone and began calling.
▼
As you inspect Ed Bannion's Upper West Side apartment through Kara's eyes, you think of how the night has been little more than a series of shocks, one after the other.
The first shock was the early morning phone call at Kara's apartment from someone called Ed who said he had startling information about Dr. Gates. That simple statement forced you to cancel all your plans for returning to the Helmsley tonight. You've been playing the rest by ear.
The second shock came when you recognized Ed Bannion as one of the brothers from the Plaza the night Kelly went through the window. Ed was the one on his knees behind you at the end, doing you from the rear. The one who bit you.
You masked your surprise then, but you nearly gave yourself away when Ed Bannion dropped the bombshelclass="underline" that your office had been invaded, your computer security breached, and that you had walked right past the culprit less than an hour ago without suspecting a thing.
You wander the bleached hardwood floors of Bannion's apartment while the owner uses the bathroom. You inspect the glass and chrome tables, the Italian leather sectional. The man has no taste. There's no theme, no harmony, no personality to the decor. These are just things he's bought. They have no meaning to him beyond the fact that they are considered the right things to have. It's as if he furnished the place with random snippets from the "Home" section of the Thursday
Times, An empty man living an empty life in an apartment filled with things, whose only passion has been the job which obviously bores him to tears now. Else why would he have tried the hair-brained stunt of breaking and entering tonight?
Taking over Kara Wade has engendered a Gordian knot of complications, but you aren't ready to surrender this wonderful body yet. You eye a set of carving knives jutting from a block of teak on the kitchen counter. Alexander the Great's abrupt and efficient method for unsnarling stubborn knots comes to mind.
You examine the knives, and choose the one with the longest, thinnest blade, then hurry into the bedroom and shove it under the bed. You're standing by the picture window when Bannion returns. He sways slightly as he crosses to the bar and begins to make himself another drink.
"Do you really think you should have another, Ed?" you say, kicking off Kara's shoes and moving languidly across the room.
You're thinking that if Bannion doesn't get too drunk, you might yet salvage something out of this night.
"I'm celebrating."
Gently, you take the bottle from Bannion's hands and put Kara's arms around him.
"You don't need to get drunk to celebrate. As a matter of fact, that could interfere with the kind of celebration I have planned."
You watch a flush creep up Bannion's cheeks.
"Wh—what kind of celebration is that?"
"The kind of celebration that happens when a very grateful girl is alone with a brave man she admires very much and finds very attractive."
"This isn't necessary."
"Yes it is."
You back up a step and pull off the sweater to reveal Kara's breasts.
"Do you like them? Touch them."
Bannion's mouth is hanging open as he stares at you. He seems paralyzed. So you lift his hands and place them on her breasts.
"That feels good, Ed. Rub them."
Bannion is getting into it now. Kara's jeans are the next to go. They're loose and fall to the floor when they're unbuttoned. You step back again and spread your arms.
"What do you think of this body, Ed? Isn't it glorious?"
"It's fabulous!"
"Yes, it is. And now I want to see your body, Ed. But only a little bit at a time." You kneel before him and unzip his fly. "We'll start with this area here."
▼
Ed was dimly aware that a small part of his brain was very upset, was shouting at him, in fact. But he couldn't make out the words through the fog. A warm fog, a haze of vodka lit by bright red glowing waves of pleasure rippling over him.
Kara was so much like her sister Kelly, so much like Kelly, she even gave head like Kelly, and now she was on her hands and knees on the bed, facing away from him, and he was standing behind her, sliding in and out of her doggy style. Almost a replay on that night in the Plaza a couple of weeks ago, except there was no black garter belt to hold on to, and Phil wasn't here and Ed had her all to himself.
Maybe it was because this was so much like the night at the Plaza that the worry-wart corner of his brain was so upset. But after all, Kara and Kelly were identical twins. Why shouldn't they be exactly alike?
Well, they weren't exactly alike. Kara's body was firmer, the flesh more taut, better toned. He thought that in a pinch, if given the choice, he might prefer Kelly's slightly thicker layer of padding, but either way it was a no-lose proposition.
Kara turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder.
"Do it faster! And harder! I want to come, damn it!"
A chill ran over his bare skin as she bucked her buttocks hard against him. Something about that sounded so familiar.
She turned her head again. She smiled.
"And this time, don't bite me."
The words struck him like the shock wave of an atomic bomb detonating on the bed. He felt himself shrivel. As he fell limp from within her, he backed away until his buttocks came up against the cold surface of the bureau. His mouth worked, trying to speak. How could she know? No one could know that but Kelly. Not even Phil knew that he'd bitten her. Ed had been ashamed to tell him.