Triplehouse. Since her arrival—on the pre-arranged dot of ten—he had noticed, with pleasure, the warmth of her look—her eyes following him around the room as he packed his suitcase; that longing gaze of adoration which so flatters men, and is one of woman’s most cunning ruses in the game of seduction. Now, he moved towards her, settling on the corner of the armchair, one hand sliding across her back to knead her left shoulder. Chicory lifted her face, closed her eyes, and allowed her mouth to open slightly, ready to receive his. Boysie bent closer: “It’s our second date, isn’t it, lovey?” His voice trembling on the edge of excitement.
“ Yes,” she whispered.
“ And we’ve got all of an hour before we need leave.”
“ Huhn-hu?”
Their lips touched, and Joe Siedler started a friendly tattoo on the door. “Blast,” emoted Boysie, who had forgotten Siedler’s promise to come over and see them safely off the premises.
Sielder was as boisterous as ever, and genuinely appreciative when he set eyes on Chicory. “Geez, you British sure know how to pick ‘em,” he gushed. “Wish I were riding down to San Diego with a honey like you, honey. Hey, Boysie pal, while you’re down there, do me a favour, look up the head bartender at the Bali Hai . Name o’ Bruno. A real nut. But real. Old Buddy o’ mine.”
Joe in his fulsome way was determined to see that Boysie’s last hours in New York were pleasant, and that the couple were moved on and out of his territory without any difficulties.
“ I got Avallon and the automobile downstairs waitin’ for youse. And a couple of the boys are outside in the lobby justa make sure,” he said, smiling proudly at this display of efficiency.
“ Yes, I saw them on my way in,” said Chicory. “Got Cop stamped all over them in red ink, and two darned great bulges in their jackets. Worried me.”
“ Aw, hell! It shows, doesn’t it? I keep telling the Organisation they want people like me. Inconspicuous people.” Siedler in his wild check jacket was about as inconspicuous as a harlot at a harvest festival.
“ It’s the same with our police,” said Boysie dryly. “Damn great boots, and they all wear the same kind of raincoat.”
A puzzled look crept over Chicory’s face: “Boysie? Why are the cops playing guardian angel to you?” There was an embarrassed pause.
“ Oh well, you know ... When you’re negotiating a big government contract ... and after that silly spot of bother last night.” Boysie tailed off lamely. The pause continued for the count of ten.
“ How about a little drink before I put you on that bus,” said Siedler, realising that he had made some kind of a boo-boo, changing the subject rapidly, and producing another bottle of Old Hickory which he had been clutching ostentatiously behind his back. “How about that? Hickory for Chicory.” He caught sight of the TV screen. “And man do I go for Yogi Bear. Just look at that.” Siedler went off into gusts of mirth as the popular bear once more outwitted the ranger at Jellystone Park. He stood for a full minute, oblivious to everything else, transfixed by the antics of the cartoon characters. Beysie finally detached the bottle from a limp hand and carted it over to the dressing table.
He was about to pour the drinks when a bell boy arrived bearing an unexpected gift. The parcel was for Boysie—large, oblong, flat and beautifully packaged.
“ Christmas already?” said Siedler as Boysie placed the interesting object on the table.
“ Who the hell’s sending parcels to me here?” Boysie felt an initial intuitive nip of danger. Siedler was behind him.
“ Wait a minute, boy. Careful with that thing. You can never tell—specially if someone’s gunning for you. Better let me get it down to headquarters. You know, after last night’s caper. They’ll get the Bomb Squad on to it.”
“ There’s a card on top,” said the observant Chicory.
Boysie removed the envelope from
“ Yes,” she whispered.
“ And we’ve got all of an hour before we need leave.”
“ Huhn-hu?”
Their lips touched, and Joe Siedler started a friendly tattoo on the door. “Blast,” emoted Boysie, who had forgotten Siedler’s promise to come over and see them safely off the premises.
Sielder was as boisterous as ever, and genuinely appreciative when he set eyes on Chicory. “Geez, you British sure know how to pick ‘em,” he gushed. “Wish I were riding down to San Diego with a honey like you, honey. Hey, Boysie pal, while you’re down there, do me a favour, look up the head bartender at the Bali Hai . Name o’ Bruno. A real nut. But real. Old Buddy o’ mine.”
Joe in his fulsome way was determined to see that Boysie’s last hours in New York were pleasant, and that the couple were moved on and out of his territory without any difficulties.
“ I got Avallon and the automobile downstairs waitin’ for youse. And a couple of the boys are outside in the lobby justa make sure,” he said, smiling proudly at this display of efficiency.
“ Yes, I saw them on my way in,” said Chicory. “Got Cop stamped all over them in red ink, and two darned great bulges in their jackets. Worried me.”
“ Aw, hell! It shows, doesn’t it? I keep telling the Organisation they want people like me. Inconspicuous people.” Siedler in his wild check jacket was about as inconspicuous as a harlot at a harvest festival.
“ It’s the same with our police,” said Boysie dryly. “Damn great boots, and they all wear the same kind of raincoat.”
A puzzled look crept over Chicory’s face: “Boysie? Why are the cops playing guardian angel to you?” There was an embarrassed pause.
“ Oh well, you know ... When you’re negotiating a big government contract ... and after that silly spot of bother last night.” Boysie tailed off lamely. The pause continued for the count of ten.
“ How about a little drink before I put you on that bus,” said Siedler, realising that he had made some kind of a boo-boo, changing the subject rapidly, and producing another bottle of Old Hickory which he had been clutching ostentatiously behind his back. “How about that? Hickory for Chicory.” He caught sight of the TV screen. “And man do I go for Yogi Bear. Just look at that.” Siedler went off into gusts of mirth as the popular bear once more outwitted the ranger at Jellystone Park. He stood for a full minute, oblivious to everything else, transfixed by the antics of the cartoon characters. Beysie finally detached the bottle from a limp hand and carted it over to the dressing table.
He was about to pour the drinks when a bell boy arrived bearing an unexpected gift. The parcel was for Boysie—large, oblong, flat and beautifully packaged.
“ Christmas already?” said Siedler as Boysie placed the interesting object on the table.
“ Who the hell’s sending parcels to me here?” Boysie felt an initial intuitive nip of danger. Siedler was behind him.
“ Wait a minute, boy. Careful with that thing. You can never tell—specially if someone’s gunning for you. Better let me get it down to headquarters. You know, after last night’s caper. They’ll get the Bomb Squad on to it.”
“ There’s a card on top,” said the observant Chicory.
Boysie removed the envelope from
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