La Fleur Rouge The Red Flower (6 page)

The next morning he ate a leisurely breakfast in the hotel coffee shop while he read the newspaper that had been handed to him when he entered. He was a lot more relaxed now that he had completed his plan to do away with Hilary. All except for the final touch - setting the time, and smuggling the bomb on to the plane.

It was eleven o’clock when he finished eating. Once he returned to his room he wasted no time. He picked up the phone and dialed the International Operator.

“What is the time difference between Los Angeles and Paris?” he asked when the operator came on the line. “I see. Thank you.”

Next, he called Parisian Airlines. “When is the arrival time in Paris for Flight #867 from Los Angeles?” he asked the agent. He waited a moment. “Twelve-ten PM, Paris time? Thank you.”

He cautiously removed the bomb from the carry-on. With careful deliberation he set the bomb’s clock and date to agree with Paris time, and to go off at eleven-fifty-five, fifteen minutes before Hilary’s plane was due to land in Paris. He carefully wrapped it in three towels to deaden the sound of the ticking. He placed it back into the carry-on, attached a padlock to the zipper, and locked it. No one would know he had a bomb in his carry-on. As soon as he arrived at the airport he walked into one of the coffee shops. When he finished his sandwich, he went up the escalator to Parisian Airlines Gate #7. Hilary’s plane wouldn’t leave for another two and a half hours, and there was only one ticket agent on duty. Greg sat in a corner trying to figure out how to get the bomb on the plane.

Just one passenger had arrived, and was talking with the agent. He was very upset. Greg couldn’t help overhearing what he was saying. As he listened he realized this was the opportunity he’d been looking for!

The man was almost in tears. “My wallet was stolen!” Greg heard him say. “My ticket, my money, my credit cards were in it! I have to get to Paris! My daughter was in an accident! She’s all I have since my wife died! I have to get on this plane! Please!”

The ticket agent spoke gently but firmly. “Sir, without identification I can’t do anything for you.”

“But I told you,” the man pleaded, “my identification is in my wallet that was stolen!”

“I’m sorry,” the agent said.

As the man turned away in despair, Greg beckoned to him. “Excuse me,” he said, “I couldn’t help overhearing. I can help you.”

The man turned to Greg with tears in his eyes. “I have to get to my daughter,” he explained. “My wallet was stolen and they won’t sell me a ticket without identification.”

“Just wait here,” Greg told him. He rose and walked over to the counter. “I’d like a First Class ticket to Paris, France on Flight #867.” He pulled out a credit card with the name of George Wilson, the pseudonym he used when he wanted to hide his identity. “Charge it to this card, please,” he told her.

He soon had the ticket in his hand. Seat #2D, right in back of Hildy and Jenny. He walked over to the man and gave the bag and the ticket to him. “This will get you to Paris,” Greg told him. “But I want you to do me a favor. I have a friend in Paris who needs this. Put this bag on the rack just above you on the plane. My friend will pick it up.”

“Yes, Sir!” the man agreed. “How can I thank you?”

“Just deliver this bag. That’s thanks enough,” Greg said. The last Greg saw of the carry-on was in the man’s hand as he sat down and waited for the boarding call for First Class. As Greg walked away his heart was pounding. He felt like cheering, but resisted the temptation. Instead, he left the area quickly and headed toward the cocktail lounge across from Parisian Airlines to celebrate. He sat in a secluded corner of the lounge and ordered his favorite drink - Scotch on the Rocks.

He smiled, pleased with himself as he sat there jiggling the ice cubes in his cocktail glass. Now all that was left to do was to make sure Hilary was on that plane. He had just enough time to check it out before flying back to New York. He finished his drink and went back to Gate #7 of Parisian Airlines. With a triumphant smile he sat down to watch for Hilary.

CHAPTER VII
 

The morning Hildy was to fly to Paris she woke up late. It was drizzling. Unusual for southern California, but the sound of it falling against the window panes was gentle and soothing.

For the first time in months she didn’t have that awful feeling of impending doom, as though something dreadful was about to happen. On the contrary, something wonderful was coming into her life, and she jumped out of bed, exhilarated, ready to face a world that seemed brand new. As fast as she could she showered and dressed, and packed the rest of her belongings into her suitcase. She had just finished when Jenny called to her.

“Hildy, you have just time enough for some lunch before leaving for the airport.”

“I’m all ready,” Hildy sang as she opened the door. It was all she could do to keep from dancing. “Jenny,” she said to her loyal school chum, “do me a favor. Please pinch me! I want to be sure this isn’t all an incredible dream!”

“It’s no dream, Hildy.” Jenny looked wistful. “I’ll miss you. I was getting used to your being here. I’m a little envious. I’d love to go to Paris with you.”

Did Hildy imagine it, or did Jenny seem jumpy? Her pretty face looked pinched and drawn. Why hasn’t she told me what’s bothering her? She decided not to pressure her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.

They were just beginning to prepare lunch when a ring on the phone interrupted them. Hildy noticed an abrupt change in Jenny’s attitude. She looked frightened and her whole body stiffened.

Hildy stopped what she was doing. “What’s the matter, Jenny? You’re shaking.”

Jenny stared at the phone.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Hildy asked.

“It’s him! I know his ring! He said he’d be back today!”

“Him? Who?” Hildy was puzzled and concerned for her friend.

“Ken!” Jenny started to cry.

Hildy walked over and put her arms around her. “Jenny? What’s going on? I thought you were divorced, and everything was settled!”

Jenny pulled out a tissue from the box on the counter top and wiped her eyes. The phone continued to ring. “I’d better answer it,” she said. “Maybe it’s not Ken. It might be for you.” She took a deep breath and picked it up. “Hello,” she answered timidly. She waited. “Hello? Who’s there?” She slammed the phone down and turned to Hildy in sheer terror.

Hildy looked at Jenny in stunned silence, waiting for her to say something, but she seemed unable to speak. “Jenny? Was it Ken?”

Jenny nodded. “He hung up when I answered,” she whispered.

Hildy tried to reassure her. “How do you know it was Ken if he didn’t say anything? Maybe it was a wrong number.”

“No,” Jenny said with a wry laugh, “it was Ken all right. He always does this. He calls to see if I’m here, says nothing, then comes over and sits outside for hours just trying to scare me. He’s on his way now! I know it!”

Hildy felt a little ashamed. “Here I’ve been bothering you with my problems. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You have enough on your mind.”

“What’s this all about? Why is he harassing you?”

“He’s trying to frighten me into signing this house - my house - over to him.”

Hildy was shocked. “Wasn’t it yours as a settlement in the divorce? How can he take it away from you?”

“It was always mine, Hildy! It was mine before Ken and I were married. My parents left me the house and a good sized estate in a trust. But Ken wants the house so he can sell it and get the money. And a big settlement from the estate. He’s trying to bully me into giving it to him so he can support his cocaine habit. He has papers all ready for me to sign. But once the house is his, I know he’ll kill me just to get rid of me - just to make sure I don’t fight him in court and try to get it back.” Jenny couldn’t stop shaking. “Hildy, I’m afraid for my life! I’ve had the locks changed and a security system installed, but he won’t give up. I’ve got to get out of here! I can’t become a prisoner in my own home!”

“What about the police? Have you reported it to them? Surely they can do something to protect you!”

“Oh, sure!” Jenny snorted in disgust. “They said they can’t do anything unless he actually attacks me. What good is that?”

After a moment’s hesitation Hildy turned and headed for Jenny’s bedroom, stopping only to phone for a cab.

“That settles it,” she told Jenny. “Forget lunch. You’re going to Paris with me!” She grabbed Jenny’s suitcase from her closet, deposited it on her bed, and started packing her things.

Jenny watched, too surprised at first to speak. “Hildy,” she protested, “I can’t just pick up and go at a moment’s notice. What about my mail? They won’t hold it unless I go to the Post Office and fill out a form. There isn’t time. And the newspapers? And I’ll have to tell the pool man!” She threw her hands up in despair. “It’s not possible!”

Hildy whirled around and faced her. “You said you had to get out of here. Where were you thinking of going? What better place than to Paris with me?”

Jenny opened her mouth to say something further, but her protests made no impression on Hildy, who continued to pile Jenny’s clothes into her suitcase.

“How long will it take Ken to get here?” she asked Jenny.

“About half an hour if he called from his apartment. If he called from some place closer - “ Jenny’s voice shook - “I don’t know.”

Hildy looked at her watch. Then she calmly took charge. “The man at the cab company said he’d be here in twenty minutes. The plane leaves at four-thirty. Jenny, call your next door neighbor and ask her to cancel your newspaper, tell the mail person you’ve been called away on an emergency, and ask her to notify the pool man. I’m sure she’ll be only too glad to do it for you. Do you have a passport?”

“It’s in the safe,” Jenny said. In a daze she walked over to the closet where the safe was hidden in the wall. In seconds she had the passport in her hand. She picked up the phone and called her neighbor, who readily agreed to take care of things while she was gone.

It seemed like an eternity, but the taxi arrived on time. Jenny set the security system, and she and Hildy ran out to the curb. The driver had just finished loading their luggage into the trunk when Ken drove around the corner, tires screeching. Hildy and Jenny jumped into the cab, with Ken in hot pursuit. Jenny started to shake again.

“Driver, do you think you can lose that car?” Hildy asked. “There’s an extra tip in it if you can.”

“Sure thing!” He checked the rear view mirror till he spotted the car, then stepped on the gas.

The rain had stopped, and they weaved in and out of traffic and down a side street where some men were working. They just made it through the intersection before a road block and detour sign were set up, leaving Ken behind, swearing and cursing. The cab driver grinned and gave them a victory sign.

Peter had told Hildy to be at the airport at least two hours before the plane was scheduled to leave. In spite of the heavy traffic they arrived in plenty of time. Peter had made a reservation for Hildy to fly First Class so she would be rested, ready to start work on the movie the day after she arrived. Her ticket was waiting at the counter, as promised. There was an empty seat next to her which Jenny promptly bought with her credit card.

They made their way to the First Class Lounge, where Danish pastries and coffee were set up on a table. In all the excitement they hadn’t had time to eat, and they welcomed this unexpected snack. After choosing the pastries they wanted, they walked over to one of the sofas.

Jenny kept looking nervously over her shoulder.

Hildy tried to reassure her. “Ken can’t possibly have known we were going to the airport. Besides, he can’t get in here unless he has a First Class reservation on a plane. We’re safe.”

Jenny looked dubious. “What if he asked my neighbor where I was going?”

“If I remember correctly,” Hildy reminded her, “you told her you’d be away for a while, but you never mentioned where. Stop worrying.” She realized she must have sounded rather abrupt, and she softened her tone. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I keep thinking I see Greg everywhere I go. But we’ve come this far. We’ll make it okay.”

They lingered over their coffee and Danish. They had just finished when the announcement came over the loud speaker. The First Class section of Flight #867, bound for Paris, had started boarding. They gathered their belongings together and walked to the ramp and into the plane.

As soon as they were settled in their seats, the flight attendant approached them. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

“White wine for both of us, please,” Hildy replied. “We could use it right now.”

Jenny sighed as she sank down into the plush, wide seat and turned to Hildy. “I can’t thank you enough for getting me out of this mess. At least for now. How can I ever repay you?”

Hildy was surprised. “You’ve already paid me by having me stay with you in your lovely home. Besides,” she laughed, “I’m being a little selfish. I dreaded the thought of going alone. I’m sorry it had to come about this way, but I’m sure glad you’re here.”

As Flight #867 taxied away from the gate and lifted gracefully off the runway, they sipped their wine and breathed a sigh of relief.