25
The limousine crept along in the heavy traffic. James Allerton was asking who knew of Carbury’s mission; a good, basic question, thought Abrams.
Katherine said, “I told Mr. O’Brien. Then I told Peter.” She looked around the car.
Allerton said kindly, but pointedly, “No one else?”
She hesitated. “No… Well… Arnold in archives… I mean, I asked him for Colonel Carbury’s file. But I had the impression he knew Carbury was in New York.”
Thorpe looked at Abrams. “How much did you know?”
“I knew I had to follow a man named Carbury.”
Thorpe rubbed his chin. “All in all, Kate, you could have shown better judgment.”
She flushed angrily. “Don’t be absurd. I showed damned fine judgment.”
“But you didn’t have to tell anyone, including me, until after you had the diary. Now you’ve tainted us.”
She stared at him defiantly. “Carbury himself or Lady Wingate could have been the cause of the security breach. Information progresses geometrically, and we have no way to check on who was told, here or in England. So let’s keep the paranoia among us down to a minimum.”
Thorpe seemed chastised. He took Katherine’s hand. “I apologize.”
The limousine stopped in front of the Lombardy. Thorpe raised Katherine’s hand to his lips and kissed it. He climbed out of the car and said to Allerton, “Are you staying here?”
Allerton shook his head. “You know I dislike that apartment. I’ve taken a room at the United Nations Plaza.”
Abrams watched Katherine, but she made no move to leave with Thorpe. Thorpe turned away without a farewell and entered the Lombardy.
The limousine drove off and a few minutes later stopped at the UN Plaza Hotel. Allerton reached into his pocket and pulled out the medal he’d received. He stared at it, then looked at O’Brien. “This should have been yours.”
O’Brien laid his hand on the old man’s arm. “No, James, you deserve it.”
Allerton smiled and his eyes became moist. “When I was young, I thought we had fought the war to end all wars. Then when I was middle-aged, there was another. And now in my final years the war drums are beating again… ” He looked at Katherine, West, and Abrams. “You take all this insanity as the normal state of affairs. But I assure you there was a time when civilized men and women thought war was no longer possible.”
Katherine leaned over and kissed Allerton on the cheek. “I’ll see you before you return to Washington.”
A doorman helped Allerton out and the limousine moved off. West directed the driver to the Princeton Club.
When the car stopped on 43rd Street, West addressed O’Brien. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope I was of some help.”
“As always. Be careful… ”
“I have protection.”
“So did Randolph Carbury. Good night.”
The car headed back east and stopped in front of a Sutton Place apartment building. O’Brien got out, then put his head back into the car. “Well, Abrams? Welcome to the firm. Watch yourself. Good night, Kate.” He shut the door.
The limousine headed south again. After a long silence, Katherine said to Abrams, “I’d like you to stay at the house on Thirty-sixth Street.”
“Where are you staying?”
“In my apartment in the West Village.”
Abrams let the silence hang, then nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll meet you at the house in the morning. We’ll go to the office. The dead files.”
“Fine.”
The car turned into 36th Street. Katherine said, “I’m glad you’re in on this.”
Abrams lit a cigarette. After a while Katherine said, “Sometimes I believe we are born with an instinct for revenge. It’s nearly as strong an instinct as survival or sex. Some of the people you met tonight will not be at peace until the old scores are settled. What’s your motive?”
“Sex.”
She looked at him dubiously, then smiled. The limousine stopped in front of the town house. Abrams opened the door.
She said, “Be careful tonight.”
Abrams paused at the door. Most people, he reflected, said, “Good night”; this group was heavily into “Be careful.” He said, “If there’s a killer on the loose, you may be wise to stay here… or at the Lombardy.”
“I like sleeping in my own bed. See you later. Early.”
Abrams closed the door and watched the car pull away.
He lifted the brass knocker and brought it down on the strike plate. Claudia opened the door almost immediately. “You kept me up. Everyone is in already.”
“Who’s everyone?” He entered the foyer.
“The Grenvilles and Van Dorns. Did you have a good time?”
“No.”
“I saw you outside. Why isn’t she staying with that lunatic Thorpe at that horrible apartment in the Lombardy?”
“Maybe she is. What’s horrible about that apartment?”
“Everything… when you go to the bathroom there, the toilet bowl analyzes your urine and sends the results to the CIA. I spent a week there when I came from Rumania. I was afraid to undress with the light on. Or off. They have things to see in the dark.”
Abrams hung his raincoat on the foyer hook. “A CIA place?”
She didn’t answer.
He said, “Same room?”
“I’ll show you up.”
Abrams walked by the sitting room and saw Joan Grenville curled up on the couch. She smiled as Abrams went by.
Abrams followed Claudia down the hall. It was nearly 3:00 A.M. and his body craved sleep. He watched Claudia’s undulating rear as she walked. Given his choice between sleep and sex, considering his age and general health, he thought he could stay awake a bit longer.
There was a small old S-shaped telephone desk in the narrow hall, the type his parents had in their hall, a special place to hold the valuable instrument. The telephone rang and Abrams reached it before Claudia. It was O’Brien. His voice was calm and unemotional. “Telex here from England. Brompton Hall has been destroyed by fire.”
“Right.” Abrams had the impression that O’Brien knew this some time ago. But sometimes it was better to pretend that a source of information was still viable and record people’s reactions. Then you hit them with the startling new development and do another check of reactions. Abrams said, “Bodies?”
“Three. Pending further identification.”
“What time did it happen?”
“About one A.M. their time. Eight P.M. our time. About when we realized Carbury was overdue.”
Abrams said, “Can you deduce anything from that?”
“Yes, I can. After Katherine first spoke to me about Carbury, I called a friend in Kent and asked him to drop by Brompton Hall and watch over things. This was about five P.M. New York time. My friend called from Brompton Hall about seven P.M. and everything was all right there. By eight P.M. it was not all right.”
Abrams said, “Perhaps your friend was the reason it was not all right at Brompton Hall.”
“Possible, but more likely he will be among the dead. Lady Wingate and her nephew will be the other two.”
Abrams nodded. “We don’t seem to have much luck covering our witnesses.”
“No. Listen, Abrams, don’t get a good night’s sleep.”
“Right.”
“I have to call the others.” He hung up.
Claudia said, “Bad news?”
Abrams replaced the receiver in the cradle. “As Thoreau said about news, when you’ve read about one train wreck, you’ve read about them all.”
“What does that mean?”