THE DRIVER SWUNG TO the curb. Eliza paid him and the cab thrummed into the uptown quiet. She stood there for a moment, her eyes moving up the great white shaft to the lights on its gardened roof. Towner was somewhere here. Unless Feather had lied. Her fists tightened. Feather had not lied.
She entered the marble palace with steady steps. The palace guard halted her.
She looked at him as Feather looked at a secretary. “Towner Clay.”
“Who is calling?”
“Eliza Williams.” She resented the delay of his ringing up.
She was permitted to enter the elevator. The cage shafted to the top of the skyscraper. She stepped out into a small private jewel box, pressed a black pearl button. The door was opened by the white-coated houseman. He took her coat. “This way, Miss Williams.”
She stood on the threshold of the living room. An exquisite room, panelled in mirrors, a gold and silver room, scented with great silver bowls of massed white roses. Beyond the giant front window were the myriad golden lights of New York. She stood there silently for a moment.
Feather Prentiss, a froth of silver, was curled on a pale brocade love seat. Towner lounged near her in a royal purple chair. A quiet Saturday night at the Clay penthouse.
Towner tinkled his glass. “Er—Eliza.” He seemed vaguely surprised that she was here. He gestured, “You know Miss Prentiss?”
Eliza’s lip curled as she gave brief acknowledgement. “How’d you do, Miss Prentiss.” She appealed to Towner. “I must talk with you.” Alone. He knew it must be alone.
His pale eyes blinked with anticipation. “You have brought me the Scarlet Imperial?”
“No.” His eyes went blank. She continued rapidly, “I don’t have the Imperial. Gavin Keane has it. He has the Imperial and Feroun Dekertian as well.”
Liquid sloshed over his glass as he set it down. It wasn’t like Towner to be untidy. He came to his feet without sound, advanced to her until he could look down into her face. With sudden frenzy the back of his hand slashed across her mouth.
He had never struck her before. She’d seen him strike his servants in sudden rage. He had never touched her. She swayed but she didn’t fall. The thin film of amusement on Feather’s mouth held her on her feet.
He was mumbling monotonous obscenity of Eliza’s source, of her reversion to source because of a blue-eyed man. Eliza spat from her bruised mouth. “Send her away and I’ll tell you. Get rid of her if you want to know.”
Towner quivered with fury. “Don’t you tell me what you will or won’t do!”
Eliza ignored him. She moved on Feather. “Get out of here. Get out!” Feather twisted out of the love seat, backed away. She was afraid. She should have been afraid. Towner grated, “Don’t go, Feather.”
Feather spoke out of utter boredom but her eyes were nervous jets. “Don’t fuss, Towner. Let her tell it. I’ll be on the terrace. If you’re ever free, look me up.” She floated away but her look didn’t leave Eliza until she was out of the door.
Eliza sat down where Feather had been. She was trembling. “If you’d have come to me instead of to her, we’d have the Imperial.”
He stalked back to his purple velvet chair, lifted his glass. After he drank, his voice alone wasn’t normal. “I wasn’t ready to come to you. With Gavin Keane living in your apartment, the police investigating Hester’s murder—” He choked. “Do you doubt my wisdom in spending my time with an old friend? One who could give me an honest report on these young men you are so interested in?”
She didn’t answer his insinuation. She said, “I carried out my part. I had the Imperial for you on Thursday. You could have had it. I even kept it safe when that horrible Pincek tried to steal it.” She accused again. “But you didn’t come for it. You didn’t communicate with me. I thought it was safe. Bry was in touch with Dekertian. I didn’t know until today that Gavin wasn’t with Bry on this.” She faltered. “I got away from Gavin after—after the office. Bry didn’t come back. I took Dekertian to my apartment to give him the Imp—”
“You have been with Feroun Dekertian?” Towner’s eyes protruded.
She was impatient. “Yes, certainly. But the Imp was gone. Then Gavin came. He knocked me out and took Dekertian away.”
“Are you certain it was Feroun Dekertian?”
She admitted slowly, “I don’t know. He had identification but …” He’d gone with Gavin. She drew herself together. “We must find Bry. It may not be too late to stop Gavin.”
His smile was pinched. “You have behaved with incredible stupidity in this whole affair. On only one count were you correct.” She didn’t ask.
“Bryan Brewer and Gavin Keane are together in this.”
It wouldn’t come clear. She puzzled it but it wouldn’t come clear. She had to beg. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Pity and scorn were an acrid brew. “Did it never occur to you that when your friend Thaddeus Skowa reached Teheran, he was not alone?”
She whispered, “What do you mean?”
His calm was far worse than his fury. “There were three young men from the Flying Tigers who arrived during the Three Party conference. According to their story, they had cracked up in the jungle. The rescue plane which eventually found them was headed for Teheran. They were landed there.”
His forefinger brushed his moustache. “Three young men. Two were Americans. Lieutenant Thaddeus Skowa and Lieutenant Bryan Brewer. One was—” he shrugged “—who knows? Perhaps a British subject. A renegade Irishman. Captain Gavin Keane.”
She listened, sick.
“The Scarlet Imperial was stolen during a large reception at the Palace. A guard testified that a young man, one of the flyers, had been seen handling it. It was found in Lieutenant Skowa’s possessions.” He drank again. “You are certain that Skowa was innocent.”
She wouldn’t listen; she wouldn’t believe. Not of Bry Brewer. Not even of Gavin. Not treachery.
“The three shared a hotel room. When the police suspected, a simple enough matter to hide the treasure in any kit in the room. In the kit of the innocent one.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
He disdained. “My dear Eliza, I am not one to make idle accusations. However, when I learned last year from Feather that Bryan Brewer had established himself as an Importer, I was willing to conduct an experiment.” She listened; there was nothing else she could do.
“You may not know, but I had no luck in employing the Bey to find the Imperial for us. In fact, when the Bey queried Gavin Keane, on my suggestion although my name did not appear in the transaction, Keane vulgarly told him to peddle his papers elsewhere.” Towner’s vanity preened itself. “It occurred to me that if I asked Brewer to locate the treasure, I might not only recover the Imperial but also obtain the proof of guilt we desired. You see I was not wrong. Brewer and Keane had kept the Imperial hidden for these many years. Waiting their chance for a good sale.”
He was not wrong. Towner was never wrong. Shock diminished. Anger blazed. Deep abiding anger against injustice. That these two could allow their friend to suffer indignity and death for their greed. She had no words. She had trusted Bry; she had defended Gavin. The murderers of Thad.
Towner wore his righteous smirk. “You understand perhaps why I could not come running to you when I arrived in New York. I had more important matters to attend. The relaying of information to the F.B.I. The details to be attended—one small detail, a look through Brewer’s papers which Jones and I were attempting today when you—” he breathed disgust, “—assisted your renegade friend to lock us away.”
“He had a gun.”
He sniffed. “I trusted you to cleave to the Imperial while I was otherwise engaged.”
“I thought I had it safe.” The defense was lame. She cried out, “What can we do now, Towner? Without the Imperial? Can’t you find Gavin?” She didn’t understand his smile. “Perhaps, yes. I believe he has been under surveillance of Mr. Jones’ men today. In fact only because of my insistence did Jones refrain from placing him under arrest when Keane left your place last night.” She was bitter. “It might have been better if you had.”
“I do not believe so. When dealing with crafty fellows, one must employ wiles. Yes, Hubert?”
She hadn’t heard the flat-chested houseman approach. “Mr. Jones.”
“Show him in.” Towner’s pale eyes flecked Eliza. “You will oblige me by waiting in the library. I prefer to handle matters in my own way.”
She met Jones in the doorway. He didn’t speak, his hostile glance touched her, let her go. She didn’t want to linger with Jones and his suspicion. Towner would handle it. Jones and his organization could find Gavin and the man who called himself Dekertian. It wasn’t too late.
The library opened off the foyer. It was quiet, one study lamp flung patterns of shadow against the books. She went to the deep window seat, pushed aside the curtains. There were sky and stars from this window, far below lay the dark streets of the city. So many streets, so many people, like stars. How could one man be found if he didn’t want to be found? If Gavin had got away with the Scarlet Imperial, what would Towner do? She didn’t want to start all over again. They’d been so close to it, things couldn’t crumble in their hands now. Because of her carelessness. She rested her head against the cool of the pane.
“Eliza!” Bry Brewer was standing on the threshold. He called her name softly again and he strode towards her. “Eliza.” Anxiety grooved his mouth. “Why did you come here?”
He stopped abruptly as she lifted her eyes. She didn’t have to speak; they held her knowledge of the truth.
He asked haltingly, “What is it? Eliza!”
She didn’t move. She said, “I was Thad Skowa’s girl.”
“You?” His face sagged. “You—”
She could hear in the silence the faint catcalls of traffic twenty-two stories below. Far behind them the distortion of sounds in the honky tonk where she and Thad had met. “I wasn’t much like this when Thad knew me. But he loved me. He was going to marry me when he came back … He didn’t come back.”
“No,” Bry said. “He didn’t come back.”
One quiet word was a curse. “Murderer.”
He took a step nearer. “What did you say?”
She wasn’t afraid. She repeated, “Murderer.”
“For God’s sake, Eliza, are you crazy?”
She stated, “You were with Thad in Iran. You and Gavin. You let him die for your theft, you and Gavin.”
Anger flushed his face. “Who’s been telling you such rot?”
“Can you deny it?”
He didn’t answer at once. When he did, he was contemptuous. “Do I need to deny anything that rotten?” He drew away from her as if she were diseased. “Yes, we were with Thad in Iran. We were with him in the jungles before that. If I told you all about it, you’d think I was having a nightmare. You wouldn’t believe me.” He corrected that. “Yes, you would. You’d believe anything.”
He began to pace the room, remembering. “We didn’t know where we were for weeks. Maybe months. We lied, we stole. We killed.” There were two harsh lines fencing his mouth. “We were rescued. We landed in Teheran. Where we could eat and drink again, sleep in a bed, feel soap and water. None of us knew about the conference. None of us had ever heard of the Scarlet Imperial.”
But one was a thief. Towner was mistaken; Bryan Brewer had nothing to do with it. His outrage was real. And even now Bry didn’t believe Gavin was the one.
“Some of the news boys discovered us and made us heroes.” He was sardonic. “That’s how we happened to be at the reception when the Imperial was stolen.” His laugh was explosive.
“It doesn’t sound important, does it? A gimcrack stolen. An expensive bauble, covered with precious jewels, but what good was it? Something to look at. It couldn’t be anything important to anyone who’d been through what Thad and Gavin and I had. It wasn’t important with men dying all over the globe.” His voice was vicious. “Killing each other as if they were killing wooden toys. Do you know how a man can go on killing men like himself? Only by emptying his mind, like an idiot. By turning other men to wooden toys.”
His hand flattened on the desk. “A jeweled Easter egg wouldn’t seem important at that time, would it?” He shook his head. “But it was. For a couple of hours it was an international incident.” The line of his mouth was white. “Until it turned up that night. Turned up in Thad’s kit.”
He didn’t seem to remember she was there. “Thad. The sweetest, bravest kid that ever lived.”
She said, “It wasn’t Thad.”
“Of course it wasn’t Thad.” He turned on her. “What would he want with a bunch of jewels? You can’t eat jewels. You can’t buy life with jewels.”
He spoke flatly. “Thad was arrested that night. The next morning he was dead.”
Horror fixed her. She hadn’t known it was done so swiftly. “Without trial?”
His mouth was a sharp blade. “He committed suicide.”
“No!”
“No,” he said quietly. “He’d come back to the living. He’d fought through everything foul to hang on to life. He didn’t snuff it out.” He spoke now as in a vacuum. “His throat was cut. The town was full of men who’d cut a throat for a few pennies.”
She hadn’t wanted to cry for years. Not since they’d told her Thad was dead. She had no tears now, only hurt. Crying to heaven for vengeance. She asked dustily, “And where were you and Gavin while Thad was locked up to die?”
“We didn’t know until he was dead. I went to the American legation. Towner Clay was a member of it. I’d known him slightly in New York. I had to leave it up to him. My orders had come through.”
“And where was Gavin?” The words were stones.
“Gavin had the bad luck to run into an officer of the British Commission that he’d met up with during the Irish Revolution. A black and tan … He had to skip.”
With the Imperial. Bry was innocent. He didn’t know a man like Gavin, a man who didn’t recognize law, not any law. Not even the law of decency. Gavin had held the Imperial over the years until the right moment, until there was a buyer who’d pay on demand. Whatever story he’d concocted to account for possession, Bry in his honesty would believe. But Gavin hadn’t known that Towner Clay was the man who’d wanted the Imperial. When he’d found out, he’d had to get the Imperial back into his hands. Because he was afraid of Towner, the official who’d investigated the theft of the Imperial, who was still seeking proof.
She didn’t blame Towner his anger against her now. She had deserved the blow he struck in that anger. Because she had carelessly, stupidly allowed it to fall back into Gavin’s hands.
She saw a shimmer of silver in the doorway. Feather’s sweet husky voice cooed, “Bry, darling. I didn’t know you were here.”
Bry’s head turned. “Hello, Feather.” He spoke absently. He didn’t appear surprised to see her, nor interested.
Feather’s hand caught his. “But come along. Towner doesn’t know you’ve come, I’m sure. Hubert is so literal. Towner didn’t mean you when he said no interruptions while he talked with Jones.”
“Jones is with Towner?” Bry was quick.
“Yes. They’re deep in business but they’ve been hoping you’d get here soon.”
Bry settled his shoulders. No one invited Eliza to follow. She tagged along. She couldn’t stay behind alone, haunted by shame, gnawed with regret. She didn’t enter the chosen circle in the silver and gold room. She sat to herself, outside, ignored.
Towner was correct, offering the drinks, making certain of the comfort of guests before touching on business. Hope brewed in Eliza. Because Towner wasn’t distraught, because his very ease meant something had been worked out.
He said, “Er—Bry—you don’t know where Gavin Keane is putting up, do you?”
Bry shook his head. He saw Eliza but his glance was brief. Not too brief for Jones. The F.B.I. man said coldly, “He’s no longer at Miss Williams. He was there the night he killed Hester.”
Self defense. She didn’t speak. She no longer could defend him; he had sent Thad to death. For a piece of junk. “The night Pincek shot at him.”
Eliza’s eyes opened wide, wider.
Jones said, to Bry, “The bullet your doctor dug out of Keane last night came from Pincek’s gun.”
Tower said, “And Keane later killed Pincek.”
Jones pulled his lower lip. “Could be. But he wasn’t alone when he called on Pincek. Seems peculiar he’d take along a witness.”
Eliza had meant to efface herself, not to court Towner banishing her a second time. But impatience forced her to speak. “Why do you sit here talking? Why don’t you do something? Do you want him to get away with the Imperial? Do you want him to kill Dekertian too?”
Jones fastened his unpleasant eyes on her. “My men are looking for Gavin Keane. They have been ever since he gave them the slip this afternoon. As for Dekertian—”
Towner’s good humor was definitely restored. “Feroun Dekertian is safe. He is waiting at the Waldorf.”
“Is it really Dekertian?” Eliza asked. She couldn’t doubt Jones’ face. “But why did he go with Gavin?”
“Because Keane had the Imperial.” Towner didn’t like to answer such simple questions.
“Because he thought you were on the wrong side,” Jones added without inflection.
“You’ve talked with him? He got away from Gavin?”
“Yes. He rang me up.” Towner was well pleased with himself.
Feather glittered in a saffron chair. “I can’t see why we’re wasting a perfectly supreme evening. Why can’t the F.B.I. catch this crook and get this thing you’re after, Towner?” She yawned. “I don’t know why you want it anyway. You have too many things now in your collection.”
“Feather!” Towner rebuked.
Bry said, “Towner wants to return it to Iran where it belongs. He doesn’t want it for himself.”
The collector’s itch. The phrase came to her out of memory. Gavin’s voice spoke it. Eliza shriveled in her chair. If you carried forward the idea, if you put small pieces together and they began to fit? She couldn’t believe; it was too hideous to believe. This room, the exquisite room with each separate piece a collector’s precious item, fogged before her eyes. Even Feather fit, another exquisite collector’s item.
She heard from the archway the hollow voice, “Mister Dekertian.”
She turned slowly. It wasn’t Feroun Dekertian standing there. It was Gavin Keane.
Gavin shouldn’t have come here. He should have known the risk. He should recognize the grim determination in Jones’ jaw, Jones who believed the wrong side. He should know that Towner was clever, so viciously clever. That his vagueness was an actor’s cloak. That his plans were never less than perfect.
Gavin knew. That was why he was standing there with the reckless smile on his mouth and his eyes like blue metal. He knew the risk and he liked it, hat cocked on the back of his head, his coat open carelessly, under his left arm the square white box; in his right hand, a gun. That was why he asked insolently, “Mind if I join you, too?”
“How did you get in?” Towner was deceptively quiet.
“Used a phony name,” Gavin smiled.
Bry moved without seeming to move. To Eliza, to stand by her chair. A guard. Did he think she’d try to run away now? She couldn’t move; there was jelly where blood and sinew should be. He should know she was innocent of intent; he should recognize her ignorance in this.
Jones said, “You can put the gun away, Keane. You won’t need it.”
Gavin eyed him. He agreed, “All right.” He flipped it, thrust it carelessly into his pocket. “I just wanted everyone to know I came prepared.” He grinned. “And I’m quick on the draw.”
Towner was watching Gavin. “That is the Scarlet Imperial?”
“It is.” Gavin didn’t sit down and he didn’t offer the box. He stood there surveying his audience. “I’m thinking now that we’re all together at last we can finish up our business in a gentlemanly fashion.”
Eliza was rigid. Gavin was so sure of himself.
“Ten thousand dollars. One thousand in advance. Nine thousand owing. How about that, Clay?”
Towner quivered. “My business was not with you.”
Gavin cut him off. “But if you don’t pay Brewer, I don’t get my cut. No pay, no Imperial. I’m ready to deliver. When I get paid.” He shifted the box beneath his arm.
Towner bit his moustache. “I believe my credit is good, Bry.”
“No credit. Cash,” Gavin proclaimed.
Jones said slowly, “You don’t have to pay a cent. I’ll take care of this. We want Keane downtown. I’ll see that Dekertian gets the Easter egg after we’re through with it as evidence.”
Gavin wasn’t smiling now. He warned, “Careful.” His hand in his pocket.
“Wait.” Towner’s breath came unevenly. “I have promised for many years that I would return the treasure to Iran. It is a point of honor.”
Hope returned to Eliza. Hope and sanity.
“If you need it for evidence, Mr. Jones, Dekertian will cooperate. But I must first put it into his hands.” Towner didn’t ask Bry; he inquired of Gavin. “You will take a check?”
“That certified one you showed Bry this morning?” Towner’s lips thinned. He took the fold of paper from his watch pocket. “This is it.” He shook it to length, extended it towards Gavin.
Gavin said, “Well let Liza deliver it. Just to be safe. Liza!”
She didn’t move, not until Towner nodded. She walked in silence to him. He didn’t touch her; she didn’t meet his eyes. In silence she recrossed the quiet rug to Gavin. He winked at her.
Towner’s voice was sharp. “Bring me the box, Eliza.”
Gavin laughed. “Sure. Give him the box.” He put it in her hands. “You want to be sure it isn’t a cake of soap,” he swaggered.
She effected the transfer, stumbled back to her chair. Bry’s knuckles were white on the chair back. As if he expected all hell to break loose. As if he were tensed, hoping for it.
Towner set the box on his knees. Deliberately he untied the string. As deliberately he lifted off the lid, laid it aside. He was the connoisseur, delaying each step that he might savour the final moment in most complete esthetic fulfillment. He laid away the tissue paper and lifted out the Scarlet Imperial. In the silence his hands cupped it like a chalice.
He knew the silence must be broken. His smile was foolish. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” He moved it in his hands, watching the blaze of color cascade under the lights.
“And now,” Gavin’s voice was loud. “You get to satisfy your honor. You give it to Feroun Dekertian.”
Towner looked up at him with blank eyes. The look passed beyond Gavin and all eyes turned to the arch. Feroun Dekertian was standing there, small, neat, smiling. In his hand he held his pinseal briefcase.
“Mr. Dekertian decided not to wait for you at the Waldorf,” Gavin explained cheerfully. “He was afraid something might happen to the Imperial while you were taking it to him.” Gavin slouched into a chair. “So he came along with me. And a friend of mine. We’ll see he gets the Imp back to the hotel safely. From there it’ll travel under guard to Iran. Once it’s where it belongs, it’ll be so closely guarded no one can ever steal it again. Right, Mr. Dekertian?”
“You are correct, Mr. Keane.”
Dekertian was waiting, the smile on his brown face, his eyes too black for expression.
Towner’s fingers writhed about the Imperial. When she saw the break of perspiration on his tall forehead, Eliza closed her lids.
She heard his voice as from a cavern. “It is an honor to return the Scarlet Imperial to you and your illustrious nation, M’sieur Dekertian.”
“I thank you.”
She lifted her lashes as Dekertian spoke. Towner was empty handed. Dekertian tucked the royal Easter egg into the box, lidded it. He was starting to leave.
“Please!” She was out of the chair, brushing away Bry’s restraining hand. She stood in Dekertian’s path. “You promised if it were returned to find out who stole the Imperial.”
The painted smile did not fade. “But I know who stole it,” he said gently. “I have always known that. It is unfortunate I could do nothing with my knowledge.”
Gavin stood beside him. Across the room Towner sat down again in his chair, took up his drink. Feather yawned. Jones was alert, ready to move when Gavin moved.
“Saub told me who was the thief.”
She echoed dully, “Saub.”
Dekertian said, “It was a daring coup, the theft of the Imperial. Executed by a crafty man who understood how it taxed the resources of my poor department to guard the visiting dignitaries of the three nations. In the midst of these more important matters, who would expect the theft of a small treasure to be important?”
The smile went now; as if it had never been there, it was gone. “He did not know, the thief, the importance of this one small treasure. A gift of friendship from our northern neighbor. It was a luckless accident that in the necessity to quickly rid himself of evidence, the thief chose Thaddeus Skowa’s kit for hiding place.”
The glaze was baked on Dekertian’s black eyes. “The miserable porter, Saub, saw him hide it there. To obtain police favor, he told of the hiding place. Lieutenant Skowa was incarcerated. The Imperial was held at headquarters until I could reach there. Saub did not tell us the name of the thief. That he saved for himself, a source of blackmail, yes?”
Dekertian continued precisely, “The beggarly Saub was exuberant on that evening. He had found a source of gold beyond his poor dreams. He displayed gold, foreign gold, to his admiring friends in the coffee house.” His face darkened. “I must regret, there was corruption in my own office. This I did not know. Saub was allowed to visit Lieutenant Skowa. As he was hired to do. He carried a knife when he entered the prison. When he departed he carried away the Scarlet Imperial.”
She saw Gavin’s face, the tight anger of his jaw.
Jones was critical. “It wasn’t guarded very well.”
“The Imperial was locked away. Someone had information.” Dekertian’s glance darted. “I believed that my jefe was an honest man. He was not an evil man. But there was too much foreign gold dangled for a poor old man. When he went to release the beggar Saub asked for, the deed was done.”
He blinked once. “Saub did not live to enjoy his evil gains. As he fled, he was struck down by a speeding car.” Fatalism masked his face. “The Scarlet Imperial was not found in his rags.”
“Funny thing.” Gavin’s smile was broad. But only his mouth smiled. “I was wandering around the back alleys of Teheran on that night. I saw the fellow struck down.”
She didn’t want it to be Gavin; she’d never wanted him to be the one.
“Matter of fact, I was following him. Furtive little beggar. Something under his blouse. It was after we passed the American legation car loitering there—”
Towner was without interest in anything but his drink. He looked stupid; he was dangerous when he looked that way. Eliza moved slightly closer to Bry.
“The car was speeding,” Dekertian said apologetically.
Gavin denied, “Can’t gather up much speed in one block. But then the street fight started about that time. No one was paying any attention to the car, only me. I saw it run down Saub. I got to him before the chauffeur did. He was dead.” His eyes were very blue. “The Scarlet Imperial was, as you say, gone.”
“It couldn’t have been!” Eliza cried.
Dekertian was sombre. “I did not know this about the car.” Or about Gavin Keane bending over a bundle of rags in a dark Persian alley.
Gavin said, “I couldn’t stick around to tell you. I was in a spot of trouble myself, old trouble catching up. I only had time to get to the airport and stow away with some lads on their way to India.”
With the Scarlet Imperial in hand.
Towner spoke bitterly then. “All luggage leaving Teheran was checked in search of the Imperial. Even diplomatic luggage.”
Gavin smiled. “I didn’t have time to pick up my kit, y’know. I stowed only myself aboard. And what I carried in my pockets. Big pockets in a trench coat.” His voice was hearty. “What do you say we depart, Mr. Dekertian? Pottsy is liable to get tired waiting outside.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed. Pottsy shouldn’t be in this. Pottsy was a Bey man; Pottsy was a thief. She shook her head slightly. Dekertian knew who Pottsy was; Dekertian sometimes did business with the Bey. Potts and the unfortunate Hester might have been the secondary bowstring. To make sure the Imperial reached Dekertian’s hands. The inscrutable ways of the East were not the ways of the West. But the echo of Gavin’s words came again. He would use Potts and the puppy-faced man wouldn’t know. Potts was useful but he wasn’t smart.
Dekertian bowed to Bry. “I am grateful to you, Mr. Brewer. The Iranian government will repay you in full.” He was again starting to leave.
Against judgement, Eliza cried again, “Please. You have not told who was the thief.”
“The good will of the American government is important to Iran. Now as then. I could not accuse a member of the American legation. Although the transcripts of that which Saub’s friends related are with me.” The brief case was tight in his hand. He was humble. “It could not be proven these men spoke the truth. All are thieves and liars and, as you say, jailbirds. I could not dare bring them into court to testify against a prominent American. One who served his country in high position.” He said slyly, “I have been assured by Mr. Keane that you knew these facts, Miss Williams. That you too have done your part in restoring the Scarlet Imperial.”
Gavin winked impudently at her again. “Let’s travel, Mr. Dekertian.”
“Wait.” It was Jones now. He hadn’t followed words; he didn’t know enough. “There’s still a couple of killings to clear up. And a smuggling case. We want Keane.”
Mr. Dekertian was suave. “If you will join us in my suite, Mr. Jones, I believe we can explain to your satisfaction.” His lips twitched. “I will introduce you to that unusual specimen, the honest thief.”
Jones said, “I’ll go along with you now.” He didn’t trust Gavin Keane. Neither did she, but Jones had his money on the wrong man. He was leaving the murderer behind.
Gavin said, “You’ll take care of Liza, Bry.”
“I will.” His hand was under her arm.
She was shattered with horror. They were all of them departing. And Towner Clay was to be left behind, comfortable, safe. With his drink and his treasures and his lovely, empty-headed lady. Left behind to scheme, to carry through his greedy schemes no matter who died for their fulfillment.
She broke away from Bry. “No!” she cried. She was propelled by her fury to Towner. He shriveled from her. He was afraid.
She said, “You murdered him. You killed Thad.”
He stammered, “Let me tell you—”
She didn’t let him speak. “You came to me in Singapore only because you thought I might possibly have received the Imperial from Thad’s friends.” She pronounced sentence. “I’m going to kill you.” Her hand was steady on the bronze figurine.
Before she could raise it, her wrist was encircled. By steel. By Gavin. He took it from her. They had closed in on her. The three men, no, it was four now. Jones had understood, more than he appeared to understand.
She flung out her hands impassioned. “Aren’t you going to do anything? You can’t just walk off and leave him to—”
She saw Jones’ face, harsh, cold. Bry’s quiet, intense. Dekertian’s inscrutable. Gavin’s alive, knife-sharp. Four men, each with determination on justice, eventual justice. Bry said, “Let’s go.”
She was mouse quiet. “Yes. I’ll go.”
She didn’t turn back to Towner. As they passed through the arch, she heard Feather’s pretty, stupid voice coaxing, “Now that your business is over, Towner, let’s dash somewhere and have some fun. I know. We’ll go to the Waldorf too!”
The square lay quiet below her windows. Over the dark trees the scent of spring was garlanded. Jones’ man wasn’t on the bench tonight; there was no one in the park but lovers. Ordinary boys and girls who didn’t know the Arabian Nights adventure that had swirled through their meeting place.
She shouldn’t be kneeling here in the darkness, smelling the spring with a dull ache in her heart. She should be happy in the new world that was to unfold for her. Bry’s goodnight had promised the world she wanted, the quiet, happy, normal life. It had never been Feather for him; he’d cozened her to learn more of Towner.
He’d told Eliza at late supper. At Caterina’s sidewalk cafe on Sullivan street. In that long ago there had been a war to be fought before the catching of a murderer and a thief. Bry returned to base after Thad died but Gavin didn’t.
“He transferred to Intelligence. Counter-espionage in the East. He said all the crooks were spies during the war. He could keep his ear to the ground about the Teheran affair.”
Bry hadn’t heard from Gavin again until last year. Until El Bey’s men had approached Gavin to buy the Imperial for Towner.
“He had the Imperial; he took it from Saub’s body and skipped before anyone else got there. He hid it out until he found out who was after it. Then he started rumors moving in the right alleys. He wrote me when he knew for certain. He wanted me in on the finish.” Across the red checkerboard tablecloth, Bry’s face had darkened. “We loved Thad, Gavin and I. Like a kid brother. Particularly Gavin. He’d been a lone wolf since he was a kid. He’d never had affection. If you’d known Thad—” He’d broken off then. “You did,” he said quietly. “He was gentle and good. We’d nursed him—he’d cracked up badly. Brought him back to life.” It hurt him to talk about it. “We’d vowed whoever was responsible would pay.”
She’d said dully, “But you’ve let him go. Without paying.”
Bry’s fingers piled little crumbs in one red square. “It isn’t over, Eliza. There’s no proof he had anything to do with the theft. It’s like Dekertian said. Third and fourth hand reports from witnesses you could bribe for a penny. Towner didn’t kill Thad or Saub; he spent his own money to return the Imp.”
She said, “Pincek.”
“Pincek was Towner’s man. His job was to steal the Imp from you.” He didn’t look hopeful. “Jones thinks he’ll get Towner on that. I don’t. He’s too clever to be caught.” His fingers suddenly scattered the crumbs. “I can promise you one thing. It won’t be over with Gavin until the man responsible for Thad’s death pays in full.”
She went cold. Gavin wouldn’t go back to the penthouse. He couldn’t kill; there were laws.
Bry said, “Don’t worry. Gavin’s leaving in the morning. He isn’t a killer. Hester was definitely self-defense.”
Jones might find proof. Jones wouldn’t give up trying to prove it. Towner’s plans had been careful and devious. Let Brewer send for the Imperial, a commission for Towner Clay. Set his own tool in the office to keep it from reaching Brewer. Set another hireling on her to steal it, easier to steal from her than from an importer. Because she would never suspect. She had placed her implicit faith in Towner Clay. She had helped him steal before to satisfy his collector’s itch; she had witlessly believed he was retrieving treasure for rightful owners. She’d never been allowed to meet the owners. He’d put her into his aunt’s apartment because he knew every inch of it, knew how to get into it; he’d picked his own battleground. Only one thing he didn’t know, one thing he was too vain to know. That Gavin Keane and Bryan Brewer knew the identity of the thief of Teheran.
She was in the same apartment now. After dinner she and Bry had walked to the house through the midnight streets of spring. There were street lamps instead of a moon, ash cans instead of hibiscus, but it was better that way. Thad belonged to the romantic places, to a never-to-be-forgotten dream. You couldn’t live in a world of dreams. Bry wouldn’t hurt the memory; he would cherish it too.
He hadn’t wanted her to stay at the apartment tonight. He had been afraid for her, fearing Towner might come to harm her. She hadn’t feared. She knew Towner would not dare come. Because he would know if he came to her she would kill him.
Her head rested on her arms. She should be content. She shouldn’t have the ache that Gavin had gone, gone without goodbye. She would have liked to say goodbye. To tell him the bump on her head didn’t hurt anymore. It had been a blow struck for Thad. Gavin had believed she was Towner’s woman in full understanding of Towner’s plans. He had meant to keep her from reaching Towner until the business of the Imp was done. It couldn’t have been that he wanted her kept out of it. That he didn’t want her to be hurt.
She was dreaming. She couldn’t remember who the man was; she knew only that he had very blue eyes and that he was trying to tell her something. She opened her eyes, opened them wide. The blue-eyed man was in the doorway. And he was saying “Do you always sleep in the window? Better wake up, I haven’t got all night.”
“What are you doing here?” She came to her feet unsteadily.
He held up her doorkey. His mouth mocked her. “Catch.” He tossed it. “It’s four A.M. If you’re going to take me to the airport, you’d better get dressed. In a hurry.” He closed the door on her.
She didn’t waste precious moments. Even he was surprised at how quickly she was in the game room. He said, “You ought to wear blue always.”
She looked away. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Without apologizing?” He was mocking again.
“For what?”
“For that punch.”
She said gravely, “I understand. I thought you were … you thought I was.” She rebuked, “You told me you didn’t like Dekertian.”
“I don’t.” His voice was even. “He let Thad die.”
She didn’t press it further. “Why didn’t you or Bry tell me what Towner was?” she demanded.
“You didn’t talk to me, sweetheart. I’d have told you. Bry didn’t have the heart, after you told him what Towner meant to you. He knew you’d catch on finally.”
She flushed. “You make me sound stupid. I was.”
He’d come out of his chair, come over to her. She rose trembling to meet him. He said, “You’re a lovely lady, Eliza.” His eyes were deep in hers. “You deserve a lot better than you’ve had.” Deliberately he turned away. “Bry will give you only the best.”
She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t.
His voice was light again. “Get your coat, sweetheart. Bry’s meeting us at the field.”
“It’s in the foyer closet.” Her voice matched his. “How did you ever get the Imp away from me?”
He grinned. “I waxed your floor. Clemence couldn’t get in while it was drying. Gave me time enough to search your closet.”
“Bright,” she said dryly. Nothing unusual, the usual spring cleaning. “I wonder why Towner didn’t let Jones arrest you.”
“He wanted me for the scapegoat. When the Imperial disappeared again. Jones believed every word Towner told him.” He said wryly, “He doesn’t now. He’s even forgiven us for locking him in the closet. I had to get the correspondence between Bry and me out of the office before Towner hooked it.”
“There was no correspondence.”
He grinned. “Thorough, weren’t you? It was disguised. But Towner might have uncovered it.”
“Will Jones take care of Towner?”
His face was hard. “Not much he can do. Actually there isn’t one thing to hold Towner on. He gave Dekertian the Imp. The chauffeur died in a bombing. Everyone he’s used on the deal is dead.” His silence intensified his warning. “Except you.”
She scorned, “I’m not afraid of him. He’s afraid of me.”
His smile was warm. “I think you’re right there.”
A name trembled on her tongue. Potts. Why did Gavin have Potts help him guard Dekertian and the Imp to the hotel? The name remained unspoken as they entered the foyer. She saw on the mirror table the square white box, neatly tied with white paper ribbon. She stood there, motionless.
Gavin’s voice came carelessly. “That’s something amusing I picked up tonight. At a candy store.” He untied the string, lifted the lid. In the tissue paper nest was a large chocolate Easter egg. His eyes taunted her. “Satisfied?”
She let out her breath. “Yes.”
He replaced the lid, retied the box. “A memento of my successful journey to New York.”
Bry was waiting at the airport. He stood with Eliza while Gavin went through customs. She knew why he was troubled. She said, “It’s a chocolate Easter egg. His memento of New York.”
Bry said, “I was afraid—”
“Yes.”
The box was under Gavin’s arm when they stood at the gate. He shook hands with Bry. “Take care of baby.”
He took Eliza’s hand. “Come see me some day. I’ll have a key for you.” He looked at her mouth. His hand was hard about hers. Then he released it. “Goodbye.”
He went through the gate without turning back. She watched his jaunty shoulders until they disappeared within the small door of the great shining plane. Bry’s touch was on her arm. “Might as well go.”
“Wait.” She was watching the next man approach the airliner, a portly man with a small handbag. He turned his head as he reached the steps. She had known who it was, who it must be. Pottsy.
She said to Bry, “Wait for the takeoff.”
They stood there in silence until the enormous glittering wings were lighter than air. She waved her hand; it might have been his white handkerchief waving at her.
She wasn’t surprised at what the headlines were screaming as she and Bry walked out of the Terminal.
“IRANIAN ENVOY LOSES TREASURE.”
She didn’t know how. But she knew now why Potts had been with Gavin last night. And she knew why they had acted. Towner would follow the lure of the Scarlet Imperial. Away from the civilized world. This time Gavin would take care of Towner.