Then Tanya was between him and the door, and I was moving in. I could see him shake his head. In a split second he took in the situation, Tanya blocking his escape, me coming in fast from his right. He was on hands and knees.
Too late I saw the bulge in his cheek, and I knew what it meant. A tooth cap had been lifted, a cyanide capsule released.
I reached him on my knees. I grabbed his throat and tried to pry his mouth open. Damn him! There were questions I wanted to ask. Who sent them? Why did they choose Acasano’s apartment? Where were they from?
One small gagging sound, a jerk of his body, and he died with my hand still on his throat. His body seemed frail and small-boned.
Tanya stepped up on my left. “I’m sorry, Nick. I should have put him out.”
“Not Nick,” I said softly. “Thomas, or Tom. And you’re Sandee, no matter what.”
“All right, Tom.”
I patted the man’s pockets, knowing I would find nothing. No laundry marks on the suit coat. Tailored in Hong Kong. English style. No tailor’s name and absolutely no identification. There was nothing on the other man either.
“Should we call the police?” Tanya asked while I stood in the middle of the shambles with my hands on my hips.
I gave her a stem look. “We should not. Get some blankets or sheets out of the bedroom. We have to get rid of the bodies.”
She stood hesitating, looking innocent and delicate through the make-up and tight, teasing clothes. I knew what was running through her mind. Even with all the training she had, ever since she could remember, when something happened you called in the authority. You let the law handle things.
I smiled at her. “This is something we play by ear, Sandee. Call it the unexpected, the unplanned. Our assignment hasn’t changed at all. We are still to wait for that telegram.” I nodded at the bodies. “These two were after something from Acasano. By the look of the place, they were in a hurry to find it. Somebody knows they’re here, and will be waiting for them. All right, they’re dead. Just as they would be dead if Acasano had found them. We’re still safe. We’ll get rid of these bodies and act as if these two had never been here.”
She looked at them, then at me. “I’ll get the blankets,” she said.
With her help I wrapped the pair individually in blankets. The stiletto hadn’t left much blood. She cleaned it up while I toted the bodies, one at a time, outside in the snow.
Behind the apartments, I had found a large trash can, the kind garbage trucks just hook onto, Dempsey Dumpsters, or something like that. There were four of them next to an alley. Two were half filled with trash, the other two were almost empty.
I toted the bodies one at a time, slinging them over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried them down the rear exitway concrete stairs. Before dumping them in the big trash cans, I removed some of the trash, and when both bodies were in, scattered newspapers, beer cans and plastic cartons over them.
Then Tanya and I cleaned the place up. There was no way of telling how long we’d have to wait, a day, a week, even a month. We straightened furniture and put papers back where they belonged. She had already cleaned up the small pool of blood on the carpet.
“Hungry?” she asked when the place was fairly presentable.
We were standing in the kitchen where we had found spare bulbs to put in the broken lamps. I nodded, and watched as she went on a food hunt through the kitchen cupboards.
The skirt pulled even tighter each time she knelt or bent over. The bleached hair looked good, and since the real Sandee Catron also had green eyes, there had been no need to give Tanya colored contact lenses.
I could definitely feel her presence there in the small confines of the kitchen. It was a physical awareness of her. She may have been only nineteen, but she was a fully developed, ripe woman.
She spun around with a can of something in her hand. “Aha!” she exclaimed. “Look.” It was a family-size can of spaghetti. “Now, sir, you shall see the magical things I can do with one small can. You see? Nothing up my sleeves, no hidden wands or magic potions. Before your very eyes, I shall transform this humble can of goodies into a gastronomical delight.”
“I can hardly wait.”
The green eyes taunted while the rest of her teased. “Out. I am now going to start rattling pots and pans.”
There were still things to do while she messed around in the kitchen. I started with the bedroom, going through drawers and patting clothes in the closet.
The apartment was a one-bedroom affair, furnished in assembly-fine taste. It gave you the impression that every apartment in the building was laid out exactly the same and with the same kind of furniture, arranged the same way. There was a king-size bed; Acasano was a big man, like me. And there was a vanity with a mirror, complete with white wrought-iron, pink-padded chair. Sandee had loads of cosmetics to play with, and they were stretched out on the top of the vanity.
In the closet were skirts, blouses, and dresses, low-cut in the front and in the back. On the top shelf was a row of shoeboxes.
I noticed that Acasano had few clothes here: a couple of suits, one drawer in the dresser devoted to his things containing a fresh shirt, three sets of underwear, three pairs of socks, and some handkerchiefs.
What Acasano did was universal. You begin by spending the night a time or two. The weather is wicked. You’re tired and don’t want to drive home. Whatever. This stretches to three and four nights in a row. You should really have some shaving gear so you won’t get five o’clock shadow at eight in the morning. Then you’re getting to feel a little seedy putting on the same underwear after a shower that you had on before, so — fresh underwear. A spot on the suit during dinner? Bring over a spare, just in case. You don’t want to lounge around wearing a suit all the time. Some casual clothes are inserted. By that time you are spending every night there and not seeing much of your own place.
“Come and get it before I send it to Red China,” Tanya hollered.
I had just finished going through the shoeboxes. Three of the boxes did not contain shoes. Two of them held girlish junk, magazine cutouts of movie stars, buttons, pins, dress patterns, pieces of cloth. The third contained two packets of letters.
“Hey, I am not slaving in the kitchen because I get turned on watching gas flames.” Tanya was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. There was an apron tied around her waist.
I showed her the letters. Her eyebrows raised in interest. “After we eat,” I said. “We’ll go through these and find out what kind of girl Sandee Catron really is.”
She took my hand and led me to the dining room. Somewhere she had found bread and a bottle of pink Chablis.
All the lights were out. Two candles glimmered on the table. Tanya disappeared into the kitchen, then returned minus the apron, hair brushed, wearing fresh lipstick, and toting a steaming dish.
It was good. It didn’t taste of the can at all; in fact she spiced it up enough to make it taste like the restaurant stuff. When she picked up her wine glass she held it toward me.
“To the success of our mission,” she said.
We touched glasses. “And to tonight,” I added, which brought a frown from her. She didn’t know it, but I had made up my mind. I was going to have her. Tonight.
When we were finished, I helped her clear the dishes from the table. We stacked them on the sink in the kitchen. With all the fights out and only the candles burning we could barely see each other.
We were close, standing directly in front of the sink. She reached in front of me and across to get the apron. My hands circled her waist and twisted her around so she was facing me. Then I pulled her against me.
“Nick!” she gasped. “I...”