"Sleep!" said Ron tersely beside her… but she knew that he too was awake and thinking about what was going to happen.
The taxi driver smiled broadly. He had recognized Sylvie Cassidy even though she was wearing her darkest glasses and had pushed her gleaming blonde hair back under a cap. Realizing that the lovely young Senator's wife was in no mood for conversation, he refrained from speaking to her. He was content enough to have such a celebrity in his taxi, although he did wonder why she had not taken a limousine and why she was going to such a middle-class neighborhood. From what he had read about the Cassidys, they hung out with the cream of Washington… with the Ambassadors and the socialites and even with the President and his entourage.
He watched the young woman as she walked away from him down the cement sidewalk. He tried to memorize everything about her so that he could tell his wife and kids when he got home. He had seen The Sylvie Cassidy!
Sylvie was wearing a light top coat that covered her dark burgundycolored dress. The dress was high-necked and long-sleeved and more suitable to winter than to the month of April. Nevertheless, its warmth gave Sylvie courage as she approached the building she dreaded to enter.
The front door was just slightly ajar, and Sylvie stood for what seemed an eternity before she entered. She had little hope left that Frank would not ask some other obscene deed from her before giving her the tapes and agreeing to omit any mention of her own misdeeds from his forthcoming book of memoirs. She had decided within herself that she had no choice but to submit. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and if she had to degrade herself again to save her husband from humiliation, she would do so. After all… she herself had created this horrible situation by her moment of weakness with her husband's youngest brother, Erick, and there was no one now to get her out of it but herself!
To bolster her nerves, Sylvie had drunk several White Russians before leaving her elegant town house some distance away. The vodka and white Creme de Cacao had slipped easily to her near-empty stomach, and had given her just the dulling effect that she needed to face the afternoon. She had not reckoned with the effect the alcohol would have as it mingled with the amphetamines and tranquilizers in her system. As she was already pulled between high and low by the two interacting drugs, the alcohol created a dizzy, spinning effect, and she could feel all sorts of strange thoughts racing through her mind as her body felt powered by the false energy she had created.
She entered the building and knocked at the door with a timidity that made her even more frightened of what was going to happen. She knocked again louder, as if to allay her own fears.
Frank came to the door, opening it and smiling at her with his deceptively mild-mannered servant's air. Sylvie entered as the former valet ushered her politely in, and then stood uncertainly by the door with her arms hanging loosely at her sides.
Even though she had been there only once before, every detail of the apartment seemed etched in her mind. She looked around her, a doomed expression on her face, and then turned to Frank.
"Please sit down, Mrs. Cassidy," he said. "Won't you have something… it's almost tea time…"
"No… I only came for the tapes…" she said abruptly. "You promised …"
"Oh, yes… the tapes… But Mrs. Cassidy, I'm disappointed. I was sure you would want to go over the rest of the book with me!"
Sylvie realized that she ought to know the whole truth. She couldn't just ignore the fact that even without incriminating tapes, the book could paint the entire family in such a bad light that it would ruin her husband's chances for re-election. There were any number of unscrupulous newspapermen and publishers who would give anything to get their hands on Frank's writings. Somehow, she had to persuade him to cancel the entire project… somehow.
Frank helped her out of her coat.
"Now, if you'll sit down… I'm sure you'd like a little brandy at least." He was already on his way to the kitchen, where Sylvie presumed he kept the brandy. She did not protest. She would need all the help she could get and the brandy would taste good. She sat down on the sofa and tried to keep from looking at all the photos of the Cassidys… but one of Mrs. Thelma Cassidy, her husband's mother, kept catching her eye. No matter what, Sylvie thought, she must protect her husband! She thought of how delighted Mrs. Cassidy would be to prove her daughterin-law an incompetent promiscuous fool, even if it did ruin Tim's career! Sylvie determined to do anything to prevent that from happening!
When Frank returned with the brandy bottle, Sylvie felt very lightheaded as she said, "I am prepared to do anything you want to get the tapes and your word that you will not publish a book about the Cassidys!"
Frank stopped in the middle of the room, and appeared startled for a second. Then his face broke into a smile in which only the traces of his servile valet's smile could be seen. He was a different man.
Already his life had changed so much during his time away from the Cassidys that Frank was feeling his health undergo a rapid improvement.
He moved forward again, his tall somberly dressed form slightly stooped with age, but still impeccable, still crisp and presentable. He offered Mrs. Cassidy the snifter glass of brandy and set the small serving tray down.
"In that case," he said, "we should adjourn immediately to the workroom!"
"The workroom?" Sylvie inquired. "You mean in there…?" She pointed toward the bedroom where the tape recorder was and where he had forced her into a horrible, unwilling intimacy.
"Yes… but in the other door."
Sylvie had never even noticed another door, but now as she hesitantly followed the valet, she saw that indeed there was one on the other side of the small bedroom. When Frank turned to make sure she was following, he smiled approvingly and said, "I'm glad you're bringing your brandy … we may be some time in here!"
A shudder went through Sylvie. She was thinking all sorts of wild thoughts. If all he wanted to do was make love to her, certainly she could do that. After all, she had already done so once, under the influence of a drug, true… but certainly she would survive it a second time, no matter how distasteful she found it! She tried to steel herself against his demands for her body, telling herself that the flesh meant nothing… that she could remain mentally above it all… and afterward… dear God, afterward she would have what she had come to get! She sipped the brandy gratefully, hoping it would dull her senses even more when the time came. Certain that she was right, she was glad that she had resisted all of Ron's efforts to drag the entire story out of her. She had lied to him, telling him that the maid must have misunderstood her conversation-that she had been talking to a Mrs. Franks about some masking tape for Tim. Soon it would be all over and she would be free, and Ron and Tim would not have been dragged into it.
Sylvie had hardly noticed her surroundings as she entered the other room. She had supposed it to be some kind of studio that Frank had set up for himself. To her surprise, she saw that it was filled with all kinds of metal gadgets, some of them hanging from chains on the walls and others standing in corners. She had never seen anything like them, and her heart filled with fear that Frank wanted to use some of them on her!
As she shrank back, however, Frank propelled her forward and closed the door behind them.
"Don't be afraid. Nothing I do will hurt you."
Sylvie stumbled backward away from him.
"I'm so glad you decided to go along with me," Frank continued. "A young woman of your intelligence… of your… how shall I put it… propensities… know how? Surely my little needs will be very easy for you!"