Catherine Blake was by now thoroughly regretting her decision to go to the Popes for help. Yes, they had given her a meticulous account of Peter Jordan's life in London. But it had come at a very steep price. She had been threatened with extortion, drawn into a bizarre sexual game, and been forced to murder two people. Now the police were involved. The murder of a prominent black-marketeer and underworld figure like Vernon Pope was big news in all the London newspapers. The police had misled the news-papermen, though--they said the victims had been found with their throats slit, not stabbed through the eye and through the heart. They were obviously trying to filter out crank leads from real ones. Or was MI5 already involved? According to the newspapers, the police wanted to question Robert Pope but had been unable to find him. Catherine could be of assistance. Pope was sitting twenty feet from her in the Savoy bar, angrily nursing a whisky.
Why was Pope there? Catherine thought she knew the answer. Pope was there because he suspected Catherine was involved in his brother's murder. Finding her would not be difficult for him. Pope knew Catherine was looking for Peter Jordan. All he had to do was go to the places frequented by Peter Jordan, and there was a good chance Catherine would appear.
She turned her back to him. She was not afraid of Robert Pope; he was more a nuisance than a threat. As long as she remained in full view he would be reluctant to take action against her. Catherine had expected this. As a precaution she had started carrying her pistol at all times. It was necessary but annoying. She had to carry a larger handbag to conceal the weapon. It was heavy and banged against her hip when she walked. The gun, ironically, was also a threat to her security. Try explaining to a London police officer why you're carrying a German-made Mauser pistol equipped with a silencer.
Deciding whether to kill Robert Pope was not Catherine Blake's biggest worry, for at that moment Peter Jordan walked into the bar of the Savoy along with Shepherd Ramsey.
She wondered which man would make the first move. Things were about to get interesting.
"I'll say one good thing about this war," Shepherd Ramsey said, as he and Peter Jordan sat down at a corner table. "It's done wonders for my net worth. While I've been over here playing hero, my stocks have been soaring. I've made more money during the past six months than I did for ten years working at Dad's insurance company."
"Why don't you tell old Dad to shove off ?"
"He'd be lost without me."
Shepherd signaled the waiter and ordered a martini. Jordan ordered a double scotch.
"Tough day at the office, honey?"
"Brutal."
"The rumor mill says you're working on a diabolical new secret weapon."
"I'm an engineer, Shep. I build bridges and roads."
"Any idiot could do that. You're not over here building a goddamned highway."
"No, I'm not."
"So when are you going to tell me what you're working on?"
"I can't. You know I can't."
"It's just me, old Shep. You can tell me anything."
"I'd love to, Shepherd, but if I told you I'd have to kill you, and then Sally would be a widow and Kippy would have no father."
"Kippy's in trouble at Buckley again. Goddamned kid gets in more trouble than I did."
"Now that's saying something."
"The headmaster's threatening to throw him out. Sally had to go over the other day and listen to a lecture about how Kippy needs a strong male influence in his life."
"I never knew he had one."
"Very funny, asshole. Sally's having trouble with the car. Says the thing needs tires but she can't buy new ones because of rationing. Says they couldn't open up the Oyster Bay house for Christmas this year because there was no fuel oil to heat the damned thing."
Shepherd noticed Jordan was studying his drink.
"I'm sorry, Peter. Am I boring you?"
"No more than usual."
"I just thought some news from home might cheer you up."
"Who says I need cheering up?"
"Peter Jordan, I haven't seen that look on your face in a very long time. Who is she?"
"I have no idea."
"Would you like to explain that?"
"I bumped into her in the blackout, literally. Knocked her groceries out of her arms. It was very embarrassing. But there was something about her."
"Did you get her telephone number?"
"No."
"How about a name?"
"Yes, I got a name."
"Well, that's something. Jesus Christ! I'd say you're a little out of practice. Tell me how she looked."
Peter Jordan told him: tall, brown hair falling across her shoulders, a wide mouth, beautiful cheekbones, and the most spectacular eyes he had ever seen.
"That's interesting," Shepherd said.
"Why?"
"Because that woman is standing right over there."