Davidian Report (11 page)

Steve didn’t need to ask if Davidian had left any clue as to where he might be found. He hadn’t. Through some listening post he’d learned that Albion was seeking him. This had been his thumb to the nose. And Albie had so recognized it; Albion had known that Davidian had waited until the coast was clear before leaving his card. But Albion had come closer than this before sending for Steve.

“The man didn’t return?”

Llewellyn said, “We’ve watched very closely, sir. Mr. Grasse asked us.”

“Going home and coming to work. And on the street. Mr. Grasse thought he must be living in Hollywood.” Pam said passionately, “I’d know him anywhere. But I haven’t seen him.”

You won’t, Steve said to himself. But this placed Davidian in Hollywood even more surely. His listening post was definitely here; not only had he learned of Oriole’s station but also that Frederick Grasse was Albion. It came to Steve, one small check that could be made. He asked, “How many bookshops have we?”

Llewellyn began the tally. “North Hollywood, Santa Monica, one on Jefferson Boulevard—”

Steve said, “Call them. See if this ruble-tipper has been around any of the other shops.”

“Now?”

“Now.” To the girl, Steve said, “I’d like to see the ruble.”

“But I gave it to Mr. Grasse.” He should have taken that for granted. “He said he’d give it back.” She turned her eyes to the hopeless desk.

Steve ordered, “See if you can find it.”

Llewellyn was efficient. He’d completed one call. “He hasn’t been in North Hollywood.”

“Shove your chair to one side,” Steve said. “Pam is going through the desk papers.” There could be a message on the bill, one for Steve alone to recognize. More Davidian tricks. “Or anything connected with the man,” he told her. “See if Mr. Grasse made any notes.” He had an errand of his own. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll tell your girl out front to hold the wheel steady.”

The last thing he expected was the complication of Haig Armour out front. There was no way to pass unnoticed. Haig had the effrontery to put on a surprised act. “Why hello, Steve.” He gave it the best fancy-meeting-you-here intonation.

Steve didn’t play it big. “Interested in books now?”

“Why not? Nice little shop Grasse had.”

He tried walking out on that but Haig stopped him.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“In bookstores?”

“I figured you’d turn up here.” Nothing about having the place under surveillance. “Let’s go have a drink.”

He couldn’t say he had a more important assignment. He didn’t want Haig’s men following. They’d know the Oriole address but he wouldn’t lead them there. Schmidt was too suspicious a bastard and too quick on the trigger with his suspicions. Steve didn’t intend to finish this job on a lonely beach with a bad heart.

He said ungraciously, “If you insist.”

Haig was amused. “We can make it later if you’re busy.”

“One time’s as good as another.”

They walked out side by side. Steve couldn’t manage a word of warning for the blond to pass on to the others.

Together they returned to the boulevard. “Any choice?” Haig inquired.

“That’s a laugh.”

There were plenty of corner saloons, disguised as jazz joints, yet somehow they shrank out of sight during the shopping day. It was by day a woman’s street of hats and dresses and shoes and jewelry, of five-and-tens and movie matinees.

“How about Musso’s?”

Haig had named the sole remaining dignity of the boulevard. The old English front with the leaded windows hadn’t changed in twenty-five years. Nor had the somber quiet of the
décor
within. At this hour the place was uncluttered and unhurried. They walked past the empty booths to the old-fashioned taproom hidden in the rear.

Haig waited until they had their drinks before starting anything. But he didn’t waste time on preliminary social stuff. He stated the fact, “I’m looking for Davidian. So are you.”

Steve gave a quick laugh. “You’re not going to suggest we pool information?”

“No, I’m not. But I’m going to warn you. You aren’t going to get the Davidian report.”

If Armour next boasted that he already had the report, Steve would bust him one. No matter what it led to. He was afraid to ask it straight. He made it a taunt. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Haig drank comfortably. “I’m here to see that you don’t.”

Steve said, “And you don’t hold to let the best man win.”

“No.” Haig passed his cigarette case.

Steve refused, pulled out his own pack. He wished he were as sure of himself as Haig appeared to be.

Haig continued, “I always win.”

“That’s a pretty big admission. Maybe I could say the same.”

“It wouldn’t be true.” He leaned a steady elbow on the table between them. “Would it?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead he asked, “You did come out here for this job? Not the phony line you gave out.”

“That wasn’t a phony. But I turned the case over to Timothy Leonard. Would you like to know why?” He was smiling, a dirty smile.

“Spring it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be sent on anything minor.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re telling me it was accidental we took the same plane?”

Haig laughed a real one. “You’ll be accusing me next of plotting the fog.”

Steve stuck to the point. “Accidental?”

“And if I told you we had a tip a man was heading to the Coast to see another man? Nothing particularly interesting in it, your messengers go back and forth constantly. If the tip didn’t furnish the name of either man? But suppose I told you that on the plane an astounding human cross-file named Timothy Leonard recognized Stefan Winterich, or Steve Wintress, if you prefer? And where Stefan Winterich makes a personal appearance, something is going to happen?” Haig refreshed his throat.

“What about Feather? She accidental too?”

Haig signaled the waiter. “Two more, please.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m afraid I don’t know about her.”

“You got acquainted damn fast.”

It wasn’t all in the open. Feather was to be withheld. Steve didn’t care, she didn’t worry him any. Maybe after all she wasn’t a plant; maybe Haig thought she was on Steve’s side. That would be one for the books, an innocent bystander and both sides thinking the other had her under orders.

“I don’t get it.” Steve tasted his fresh highball. This was quota. It wouldn’t be funny if Haig pulled the old one of getting the opposition talkative.

As if his side line were mind-reading, Haig remarked, “I thought you fellows didn’t drink.”

Steve showed his teeth. “We’re human too, you know. Some of us do, some don’t.”

Haig accepted it. “What don’t you get?”

“Why you’re giving me this pitch.” He could play the open-faced hands too. “Why don’t you lock me up? You guys can always think up reasons to get rid of your opposition.”

Haig said flatly, “I need you. Would it surprise you to know that with all our sources of information, we didn’t know until recently that Davidian was in this country?”

It didn’t surprise him. “Noooo!” He drawled it sardonically. “The great F.B.I.?”

Haig’s mouth tightened. “We’ve made up for lost time, I can assure you. But we haven’t found him. You’re going to do that. You were his friend. He believes you’re still his friend, working this deal for him. He doesn’t know that you’re under orders. You know how to reach him.”

Steve pretended amusement. “So I’m to lead you to him and fade out while you pick up the report without interference?”

Haig said evenly, “Frankly I don’t give a damn whether you interfere or not. I wouldn’t mind in the least getting rid of you for good. I don’t even mind if Davidian is a casualty, he’s lasted a long time for a spy. All I want is the report.” A slight change came across his face. It made him look human. “And I don’t want the girl hurt.”

Steve waited until he could speak without giving anything away. “What girl?” He didn’t want the answer.

“Janni. Janni Zerbec.”

He’d half believed her denials of Haig. That was why it slugged him in the pit of the stomach. He had a hard time spitting out the words. “What about Janni?”

“I said it. I don’t want her hurt.”

Steve tried to fight the sickness that was spreading like poison through his veins. Haig had everything she wanted, power and position, style and brass, money. She hadn’t wasted any time; she’d wrapped him up fast. In one meeting? In how many meetings? She hadn’t changed any; she was what she’d always be.
Had she given Davidian to Haig?
Were they only waiting for Steve to catch up to the trap they’d staked for him, to catch two birds at once? He wouldn’t let them pull it off; this was his baby, he’d set it up. He’d bring it off the way he’d planned it no matter how many angles Haig Armour played.

He heard Haig’s voice, the timbre of it. “She doesn’t want any part of your deal. Stay away from her.”

“Leave her for you?” He couldn’t laugh, he tried it.

“You think she’d rather have you?” It was a quiet challenge.

He couldn’t see Haig’s bold handsome face; it blurred before his eyes. “Okay. Take her. She’s yours. I give her to you, no strings.” The voice wasn’t his own. “But after you’ve loaded her with minks and rubies and dollar bills and everything her bitching heart desires, remember what I’m telling you now. There’s part of her you’ll never have. And that part you’ll want until you’re too old to care, and even then you’ll want it. That part belongs to me.”

He didn’t know how he got out of the booth, out of the restaurant. But he was on the street gulping the air, walking away fast and hard, not knowing or caring where. Somehow with his hat and coat on him. She’d lied, just as she always lied when it suited her dirty little schemes. Just as she was lying about not knowing how to get in touch with Davidian. He ought to go to her right now, slap her with the lie.

God! And what if she had lied?
What’s Hecuba to me or I to Hecuba that I should weep for her?

Nothing mattered except finding Davidian.

Early twilight sifted down upon the shiny Christmas crystals and stars and metallic trees. When his eyes and brain began to clear, Steve found he was almost to La Brea. The street was roped off this far up the boulevard. It was necessary to retrace to the corner in order to cross. The Roosevelt Hotel loomed; he rounded the corner and used the side entrance. Only one telephone booth was occupied, and it by a large-size man whose hefty fur-coated dame leaned against the half-opened door. Steve wondered if they were cooking up a story for his wife or her husband. One thing sure, they weren’t Haig’s hirelings; they’d been here first.

Steve took a booth, put in his coin and called his own room. He didn’t expect Reuben to be around but there he was at the other end of the line. Did the kid sit around all afternoon just waiting for Steve to check in? Steve didn’t ask; this time it was a break. “How about us dating a couple of gals and making a night of it?”

“Gee,” Rube began, then his voice flopped. “Trouble is I don’t know any girls in this man’s town. Only Feather.”

“Stick around,” Steve told him. “I’ll be there with my little black book.” He hung up, put in another coin and dialed again. No one was leaning around the booths; the couple had gone off arm in arm, satisfied with their dime’s worth. He answered Oriole’s voice, “Wintress here. I’m coming around for some information.”

“You will not be long?” Mr. Oriole sounded anxious. “I will wait for you, you understand, but it is that tonight is the Santa Claus parade—”

Santa Claus parade. It explained the streets, the baubles, the colored lights. Steve said, “I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Will that do?” He had to get Rube started first.

“You understand,” Mr. Oriole protested too much, “It is not myself. It is that I have promised the children and my wife.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get to see Santy Claus. What I want won’t take long.” He left the hotel by the same side entrance. There was parade excitement in the air this early. Some particularly eager beavers were spreading their newspapers and blankets for front-row seats.

Reuben was finishing a shave. “What’s the scoop?”

“You have Feather’s phone number?” The Moritzes were unlisted.

“Yeah. Want me to call her?”

“I’ll call. I want you to take the car and pick up my girl.” My girl; that was a good one.

“You promoted a car?” Rube mopped his cheeks.

“An old heap. But it’s wheels. Janni lives downtown. In a dump but don’t let that throw you, she’s okay.” He explained, “She doesn’t have a phone.”

Rube had rummaged a scrap of paper out of his coat. A Crestview number was pencil-printed on it. “Janni,” he repeated. Well, he’d heard enough about her last night to be curious.

“I haven’t time to pick her up, I have to see a man.” He wrote her address on another scrap of paper. “Don’t take no for an answer. Tell her we’re going to have a front-row seat to see Santy Claus.” Steve flung out his hands. “Why am I briefing you? That’s the first thing they teach you army Joes, how to sweet-talk the dolls. We’ll meet at—” He’d go right back there, his head high. He’d have it out with her there. “—Musso’s. It’s across the street, up a block or so. The car’s in the lot in back of the hotel.” He dug up the parking stub.

Reuben was slicked up real pretty. And Steve wouldn’t have time for a shave. The boy took the keys. “How’re you going to get Feather if I’ve got the car?”

“Feather’s going to join us, sweetheart. Run along. Remember, don’t take no.”

“I won’t.” Out came the slow grin.

Steve was asking for Crestview before the door closed. Feather might have ten other dates but he doubted it. She didn’t react as if she were accustomed to the rush of fellows most girls of her age enjoyed. If she should have Haig Armour plans, Steve would have to convince her that a change was desirable. Someone had to take care of Rube while Steve worked on Janni. He sprawled on the bed while waiting for the Moritz houseman to get her to the phone.

Her soft hello came through.

“Feather? Steve. Look, Rube and I are lonesome.” He didn’t give her a chance to break in, just kept it moving fast. He had no time to waste on her. “How about meeting us for dinner and we’ll take in this Santa Claus parade?”