Read Online Stiletto by Harold Robbins - Free Book Online Page B

tell me things are different.”
    Stanley fell silent. He exchanged glances with the other agents. They didn’t speak.
    Vanicola took a cigar out of his pocket, walked across the room and sat down on the couch. He bit the end off the cigar and spat it out on the rug. He lit it and leaned back, looking at them. His voice was less harsh now. “Now look, you guys. I’m a taxpayer too. The guvviment is spending two C’s a day of my good money to keep me in a joint like this. What for they spending the dough if nobody gets any benefit out of it?”
    Stanley got up from his chair. “You’d rather sit in the pokey?” he asked.
    Vanicola stared up at him. “Don’t make me laugh, Stanley. You do and I clam up. You ain’t got no more chances left after me.”
    “What’s the matter with you anyway, Sam?” Stanley cried out in sheer frustration. “What’ve you got against staying alive?”
    Vanicola’s eyes were suddenly serious. “The way I look at it I was dead the day you picked me up. If I didn’t talk you had me on a murder rap; if I did, it would only be a question of time before the boys got to me. Now I’m runnin’ out of time real fast. So why don’t you call up your boss and tell him all I wanna do is spend an hour or two down at that pool every afternoon? I’ll go along with everything else you say.”
    Stanley walked over to the window and looked down at the pool. There was the usual number of people down there. Vanicola’s voice came from the couch.
    “Nobody can get to me down there. You can cover every entrance. There are only two.”
    Stanley turned and went into the next room and closed the door behind him. Vanicola looked over at the two agents seated at the card table. They began to play gin again. He sat there silently, puffing at his cigar.
    A few minutes later Stanley came out. He crossed the room and stood in front of Vanicola. “Okay, Sam, you get what you want. But, remember, if you see anything we don’t, recognize anyone, you let us know right away. We don’t want anything to happen to you.”
    Vanicola got out of the chair and walked over to the window. He looked down at the pool. “Sure, sure,” he agreed quickly. “I ain’t that much in a hurry to croak.”
    Stanley walked back to the card table and sat down. Vanicola turned and looked after him. He smiled but there was no humor in his eyes. “At least I’ll be sure of one thing,” Vanicola said.
    One of the agents looked up at him. “What’s that, Sam?”
    “Getting a pretty good tan,” he answered. “Ain’t nobody who’ll come to see me when they lay me out won’t be able to tell where I spent the winter.”
    ***
    Barbara was standing on the balcony looking out at the ocean when she heard the telephone ringing in the room. She walked inside and picked it up.
    “New York calling Count Cardinali,” the operator said.
    She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Cesare, there’s a call for you,” she called into the bedroom.
    He came into the room in his swimming shorts, the deep tan he had already acquired in the few days they had been here contrasting with the white trunks. He took the telephone from her hand. “Cardinali speaking,” he said into it.
    The operator’s voice crackled through the receiver. “All right,” Cesare said. “Put her on.” He looked across at Barbara. “It’s Miss Martin, my secretary.”
    Barbara nodded and went outside on the balcony again. She could hear faint snatches of his conversation. It had something to do with a car that was in Palm Beach. After a few minutes he put down the telephone. He didn’t come out. When she turned around, he was seated at the desk making a few notes on a scratch pad. She went back inside.
    He looked up at her and smiled. “Forgive me,” he said. “Business.”
    She looked down at him and nodded slowly. This was the last day of the week they had planned together. “I wish the week were only beginning,” she said.
    “So do I,” he