There was no way I could get out except through that door. So, until they opened it, all I could do was wait. I went over to the bed and stretched out.
Many thoughts ran through my mind. There had been a security leak. Somehow Nicoli had found out my real identity. Maybe the real Acasano had somehow, in death, told of his own passing. Maybe he had left behind an envelope with instructions: Open only if I don’t have my usual cup of coffee at a certain place every morning. Then the open letter will explain that he was dead, and an AXE agent had been the last one following him.
Or maybe it had something to do with that Oriental snapping my picture in the hotel lobby. The image was clear. Nicoli suspects that his old friend, Acasano, has been done away with by agents of the Government. For some reason the agents want to penetrate his organization. They send one of their operatives over in an Acasano disguise. But Nicoli isn’t sure. Maybe Acasano isn’t really dead. There is one way to make certain. Have one of the kitchen staff snap a picture of Acasano as he comes into the hotel lobby. Compare the picture with old ones of the real Acasano, and see if there is any great difference.
An AXE disguise can be as close to perfect as you can get. But no disguise ever is going to compare favorably with the real article. Under close scrutiny, the disguise will lose every time. And maybe that’s what was happening right now. Nicoli was comparing the photo of me in the lobby with some ten-year-old photo of the real Acasano. How much does a man change in ten years? Not enough.
All this, of course, was pure conjecture on my part. Thinking ate up part of the afternoon. If what I was thinking was true, then I had to get out of there. And I had to find Tanya. There was no way of knowing in which room they had put her. I could search through this old place for a week and still not find half the hiding places.
I had one way of getting out. It was foolhardy, and would likely kill me, but it was a way.
Fire.
If I got some of the bedsheets burning close to the window and started hollering, the noise and smoke might bring someone to open that door. Hugo and I would be waiting. It was the only way I had.
Of course the whole room might be soundproof, in which case I would burn to death or get my lungs filled with smoke. To top off my good idea, I lit one of my gold-tipped cigarettes.
I smoked and looked at the canopy above me. First I’d have to get wet. The shower in the bathroom would take care of that. Then, lying flat on the floor with a wet washcloth over my face, I wouldn’t be bothered by the smoke for a while.
Rolling to the edge of the bed, I had just swung my legs over the side when I heard the lock in the door clicking. I shrugged and Hugo fell to my hand. I was leaving this room, and I didn’t care whom I had to go through to do it. The doorlatch clicked, and the door swung open. I got to my feet.
It was Michaels, the Negro who had answered the door. He was pushing a cart. When he had the cart next to me he took the cover off the dish. The steak looked thick and delicious. There was also a baked potato and some green beans. Next to the main dish was a side dish of salad, and a small bottle of Chablis.
Michaels was smiling. “Mr. Nicoli thought you might be hungry, sir.”
I hadn’t realized it, but I was. “Is he still in conference with his wife?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.” The Chablis had been in a bucket of ice. Michaels was working a corkscrew down into the top of the bottle. He pulled the cork out with a small pop, then poured a little of the white wine into the glass. He handed the glass to me. “Does this meet with your approval, sir?”
I sipped some of the wine and let it wrap itself around my tongue. It tasted very smooth.
“Mr. Nicoli sends his apologies for keeping the door locked, sir,” Michaels said. “It was necessary so you wouldn’t know where the young lady was being kept. The door will be unlocked from now on, sir.”
I frowned at him. “Kept? Why is Miss Catron being kept?”
Michaels continued to smile. He bowed as he backed out the door. “Mr. Nicoli will explain everything.”
“Really? When?”
“Soon, sir.” He turned and was gone. Not only did he not lock the door, but he left it open.
The food was getting cold, so I ate. It was nice to know I didn’t have to burn the place down. I ate angrily, partly because I didn’t know what to expect and partly because I didn’t like the way I was being treated.
When we face an obstacle we know there is no hope of conquering, we feel a very real kind of fear. But the unexpected produces a fear which stands all by itself. It is a gnawing, deep kind of panic that works on your guts.
I was so tensed up I couldn’t eat more than two or three bites. Why were they hiding Tanya? Trying to get something on me? Maybe they were torturing her to make her tell them who I really was.
Hugo was back in his sheath. I roughly pushed the cart away and walked out of the room. It wasn’t hard to find the stairway leading down. But before I left the landing I looked up and down the hallways. I didn’t know what I expected to find. Tanya, calling for me?
It would be easier if I could see the whole mansion. Then it would be easier to decide which would be the best place to imprison a girl.
I went down the carpeted steps two at a time. Michaels was emptying ash trays when I reached the bottom step. The ash trays looked like the kind they have in movie theaters. He nodded toward me and smiled as I walked by.
“Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Acasano?” he asked.
“Not much.” I went into the study and looked around.
It was a man’s room; books lined every wall. There was a lot of dark wood and black leather chairs. The room was dominated by a huge oak desk sitting in the middle. Another door led outside. I took it.
I entered another hallway with dark wood walls and continued down it to still another door. That led to a huge kitchen. What surprised me was all the smoke in the air, cigar and cigarette and pipe. The kitchen itself was an island affair; the sink, the stove, the oven, and the working counter were all built in an oblong in the middle of the floor. There was yet another door, leading to what must have been a service porch. That’s where they were.
Five men, sitting around a card table playing poker. They looked up when I came in, nodded a greeting, then went back to their game. The smoke was much heavier here. They all looked like hoods. They had the mangled ears, the bent and blotched faces, the broken noses. Their coats were off and they didn’t even try to hide the shoulder holsters hanging under their left arms.
“Wanna sit in for a few games?” one of them asked.
I shook my head. “No, thanks. Guess I’ll just watch for a while, if it’s all right.”
“Sure.” The man was dealing cards around. “Jacks or better,” he said to those around him. Then he looked up at me. “You’re an old pal of Rozano’s, right?”
I lit one of my cigarettes. “Yeah. We go back a long ways.”
“I’ll open,” another man said. There was a clink of plastic chips as he threw in two red ones.
“By me,” the one next to him said. “Too much for me,” the next man said. It went around until it reached the dealer.
He tossed two red chips in the pot. “Raise you a dime. Cards.”
When he had dealt around he gave himself two cards.
“Keeping a kicker?” the opener asked.
“It’ll cost you to find out, Louie.”
Louie threw in two red chips. “A dime.”
“Up another dime,” the dealer said. Then he looked up at me while Louie looked at his cards and thought. “So, has Rozano changed much over the years?”
“Don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen him yet. He’s been in conference with his wife ever since I got here.”
The man nodded with understanding. “Another battle. That might go on for hours. I keep telling him, Rozano, I keep saying. What you ought to do is get some nice young broad on the side, then it would be easier to take that wife of yours. But does he listen to me? No. The only one he listens to is that goddamn gook. It ain’t like the old days, right?”