Trifecta (46 page)

The whole thing was rather intriguing.  Whitcomb thought
he would have the two women more closely scrutinized.  The fact that at least one
of them had changed their hair color indicated the possibility that one of them
was wearing a wig and had undergone plastic surgery so the two could be passed off
as sisters.  He decided contact his agents immediately and tell them to break the
covert surveillance.  He wanted to know if one of the women was wearing a wig or
had evidence of recent plastic surgery.

Burgess wondered what the break-in at Dr. Steinbrenner's
residence had to do with the case.  Nothing seemed to be stolen, but you could never
tell.  On that night, when Dr. Steinbrenner had a heart attack and both of his sons
had their legs broken, the man on surveillance at the tanning salon had had bouts
of diarrhea and had not called in for backup. 

What actually occurred that night was unknown, except that
a man and woman had gone into the tanning salon and set off the alarm.  Somehow
the door knob had been totally broken off the door.  It looked like it was torn
off.  The idiot on reconnaissance said he had cramps at just that moment.  He had
ducked into a restaurant to use the facilities.  His picture of the man and woman
who entered the tanning salon showed only their backs.  The man was dark and the
woman blond.  The woman was a little taller than the man, but that was all they
currently had.  Of course, the dick with diarrhea was out of a job. 

Sabrina Miller and her friend Mark Ponti had the correct
coloring and height to be the people who had entered the doctor's shop that night. 
They were the best suspects.  But Burgess Whitcomb didn't think either of them had
a computer implanted in their brain.  Neither had taken time off of work recently.

Now there was this mysterious new woman with Sabrina Miller. 
Burgess got on the phone.  He told Malcolm Stoner and Ivar Cousin that they had
to do some overtime work tonight.

E
ve decided she needed a tranquilizer.  She had
come close to killing the fat man at the gym.  She had to consider her mind a dangerous
place.

Sabrina was in the bedroom napping, but Eve didn't want
to lie down.  The probability was, she would sleep, have an awful scary nightmare
and wake up screaming or crying.  She wanted to experience more of the world.  The
ocean that morning had been much more awesome and wonderful than she had thought
possible. 

It was almost night time and something in her head was
saying it wasn't safe to walk alone when it was dark.  That was a Sabrina Thought. 
Eve knew no one could hurt her.  A flash idea that her purse might be taken was
really silly and unreasonable.  No one could get her purse from her if she did not
let them.  Rape? Just try. 

Eve was disturbed with her own irrational rage reaction
at the gym.  She had almost walloped the fat guy.  Anger had taken control of her
mind and body so quickly it was quite peculiar.  She imagined the response was some
primitive protective device for humans, but that magnitude of rage at having been
simply pushed down was not logical.  She had momentarily lost domination over the
body, which had wanted to kill.  The computer was supposed to oversee such emotional
responses, and it had, but it had been very close. 

As she got ready to leave, she thought back to when she
had broken the legs of Ferd's sons.  It had seemed the prudent thing to do and she
hadn't felt any remorse.  She did feel bad about the fat man, though, because he
was pathetic.  So overweight and out of shape.  Certainly no match for her.  She
would never want to hurt someone for inadvertently knocking her down.  Especially
since she could have killed him in one lethal instant.

Another thought was even more disturbing.  She was getting
strong emotions now, but in the future the emotions might be even more powerful,
because surely the body did not have all the hormones in full force yet, did it?
She didn't know.  But if humans got strong emotions like this, she could not imagine
how they could keep from killing each other off accidentally, until no one was left. 

When Eve left the apartment she took one of Sabrina's purses
and put a ten dollar bill inside it from the sock drawer.  She added a bottle of
syrup in case of emergency.  She was going to try the most common central nervous
depressant, alcohol, to find a dosage which would control anger and keep her stable. 

Ivar and Malcolm were on surveillance again, their car
parked across from Sabrina's apartment building.

"The redhead is very thin,"  Malcolm said, frowning
slightly.  "You could almost call her skinny except for the spectacular, gorgeous
muscles.  And I almost picked her, but then I saw the brunette in that exercise
class, in the skimpy leotard and tights, and she was exactly the same.  In build
I mean.  Now I don't know which I really prefer."

Ivar smiled at his partner, Malcolm.  He sounded perfectly
serious and was frowning at the dilemma of picking one of the two beautiful women
they were staking out.  "What are you choosing for?"  Ivar asked.

"A permanent and erotic relationship,"  Malcolm
said smiling dreamily.

"I don't think you really have a choice,"  Ivar
said, laughing gently.  Malcolm always amused him greatly.

"No?"

"You have to pick the brunette.  You saw the redhead's
boyfriend."

Malcolm waved his hand and shook his head in dismissal
of the boyfriend.

Ivar couldn't really blame Malcolm.  Both American women
were very beautiful.  Having lost the coin tosses earlier in the day, Ivar had not
seen the women up close.  His view from the top of the bluff, above the production
site for the toothpaste advertisement, had been through binoculars.  At that distance,
the images had jumped around through the eyepiece and he had only seen the women's
faces in blurry and unsatisfactory focus. 

"I would take the brunette,"  Malcolm said nodding. 
He stretched and yawned hugely, settling in for a long wait.

As Ivar mulled through strategies to get closer to the
women, he suspected that the boyfriend might really be the focus of the investigation. 
He had seen the agent who was covering Mark Ponti. 

As Malcolm started a monologue of intricate schemes to
bed one of the two women, Ivar was suddenly galvanized by the sight of the dark-haired
one leaving the condominium alone.

Ivar was not going to put up with another coin toss that
he might lose.  He sprang up and told Malcolm to stay put; he would follow the woman. 
He did it so fast that he was out of the car before Malcolm could protest. 

Ivar kept in mind that besides the instructions from the
Russian agent about this investigation, he and Malcolm had been directed by their
American boss, Burgess Whitcomb, more commonly known as Old Hood Eyes, to find out
whether one of the women was using a wig or had undergone recent plastic surgery. 
Whitcomb said that if it was necessary to break cover in order to do so, to go ahead. 
They would be replaced by other agents. 

Ivar knew that he could not be replaced, so he would do
as instructed, but he would not tell Hood Eyes if he made contact.  His American
boss was forbidding, but nothing like what the consequences would be if he failed
the highly placed KGB agent.  Ivar didn't fear the Americans, but if he was replaced
on this case, the Russian agent would be very unhappy.  There might be severe reprisals. 

As Ivar followed the young woman, he wondered if it would
be as simple to detect a wig on a woman as it was a toupee on a man.  From here,
the woman's hair looked real and whirled in the light breeze.  Ivar had very good
vision, better than twenty/twenty, but he couldn't see any scars on the side of
the woman's face.  At least not at this distance.

E
ve was walking uphill toward Sunset Boulevard.  The twilight
weather was cool and balmy, a small breeze making the walk pleasant.  As Eve strolled
along she looked into department stores windows and thought that the clothes displayed
in the windows were not nearly as nice as those Sabrina made.  The plastic models
were all spectacularly thin.  Eve wondered why.  At the gym there had been lots
of women in the locker room and most of them were not so thin as she and Sabrina
and the models displayed in the windows.  It had been a revelation that women came
in such diverse sizes and shapes.  On television they did not show naked bodies
or many different sizes of female anatomy. 

On Sunset Boulevard a sign proclaimed she was in the Sunset
Plaza area.  There were myriad luxury shops catering to unlimited tastes.  Eve looked
into each one.  There were shops with revealing lingerie in the windows; one for
wedding gowns; a shop just for children's clothing and one with leather apparel. 
One store rented and sold tuxedos, one proclaimed that it could teach karate up
to the black belt level.  There were advertisements in the windows for tattoos and
for designer Paris jeans.

Some items were so beautiful it made her eyes happy.  Eve
looked up at huge billboards advertising rock stars, cigarettes, liquor and movies. 
Along Sunset Boulevard came a most diverse stream of cars, from stretch limousines,
to beat up old clunkers with lowered fenders, packed with teens cruising slowly. 
She passed several large hotels.  In the hills above the Sunset strip were huge
houses with diverse and ostentatious architecture. 

As Eve walked along she noticed that she was the only lone
woman on Sunset Boulevard.  There were a few couples she passed and a few stray
men.  The men all seemed to appraise her in an odd way.  Most were badly dressed,
visibly unclean, and Eve could smell them.  She guessed that they fit in the category
of Bum.  A few stopped and looked at her.  Eve heard an inner voice telling her
to keep walking quickly.

Eve saw a restaurant with tables on an outside patio. 
The restaurant's occupants all seemed to be having a grand time eating and drinking,
so Eve decided to go inside and try a soothing alcohol dosage there.  She walked
up a cobbled path between the outside tables into the restaurant. 

A woman with lacquered hair, impeccable grooming and a
very thick French accent told Eve where the bar was.  The woman did not smile. 
Eve wondered if she was wearing something wrong.  She had on designer jeans, a silk
blouse and a leather jacket.  Maybe she had acted improperly when she had asked
the woman where the bar was located.  The woman was looking at her very disapprovingly. 
She could almost feel the eyes riveted on her back as she walked through the tables
to the back of the restaurant.

The lounge was dark and plush, with red velvet bar stools
and a long dark mahogany bar.  The bottles behind the bar were lit from behind and
shone like jewels.  Eve could almost believe she was one of the heroines she had
seen in movies going into bars, where someone was always playing a piano and everyone
was friendly.  Here, the bar did not have a piano and there was only one man sitting
alone at the other end of the bar. 

Sabrina sat on a stool.  She twirled the seat in a circle
several times, as she enjoyed the motion.  The bartender was wiping glasses, just
like in the movies.  He came over and asked Eve, What's your poison? She didn't
know what he meant so she asked for something sweet.  She knew that Sabrina would
have requested wine, but she had tried wine.  It tasted like old spit.  The bartender
recited, in a very bored way, a list of sweet after-dinner drinks.  Eve chose Creme
de Menthe and soda, thinking that she didn't know how the computer would react to
alcohol.  It might be better if she had it diluted.  She took small sips of the
drink and liked the taste.  It had a peculiar warm feeling when it went down her
throat.

Eve could see the man at the end of the bar smoking.  She
wished she knew how.  People always drank and smoked together in bars, and she watched
the man intently, noting how he inhaled the smoke and then blew it out.  Some of
the smoke came out of his nostrils.  The man saw her watching him smoke and smiled
at her.  Eve smiled back to be polite.  She was not going to make any mistakes. 
She didn't want to give Sabrina a bad reputation. 

The smoking man was about forty years old and had had a
very bad day.  He was commiserating about it over his sixth bourbon.  Suddenly,
he thought it might be his lucky night, because obviously the lady's smile was an
invitation.  He took his drink over to where Eve was sitting and sat down.  He asked
if he could sit there, after the fact.  Eve said he could sit there.  She thought
it strange that with all the room in the bar the man would want to sit so close. 
He was actually brushing her with his elbow and part of his arm.  Eve thought that
it must be a custom that people sat close together in bars.  She would have to get
used to it. 

Then Eve had a Sabrina Thought.  She suddenly knew that
this stranger was sitting altogether too close.  He was leaning on his elbow and
looking straight into her face.  Eve moved to the edge of her stool and removed
her arm from the proximity of his.  The man moved even closer.  Eve knew that along
with her excellent hearing and sight, she had a fine olfactory ability.  The man's
breath smelled strong in an obnoxious way, like the drink he was consuming in large
gulps.  He breathed smoke right into her face.  It hurt her eyes and made her want
to cough.  Eve leaned away from the man.  He was asking her what she did for a living. 
All of the words went together and were not distinct.

Eve tried to keep her distance and answered that she designed
women's clothing.  The man said he thought she was an actress or something.  He
went on and on about how beautiful she was.

Eve was feeling uncomfortable and decided that the experiment
of tranquilizing herself was over.  She wanted to get out of the bar and away from
the evil smelling man.  Eve gulped her drink so she could hurry and leave.  She
almost choked and started coughing.  The man patted her back and laughed.  Eve did
not find it at all funny.

Ivar Cousin had been standing in the back of the bar and
saw the drunk leering at Eve.  This was the perfect opportunity for him to make
contact.  He quietly walked over to the bar and sat on the other side of Eve, ordering
a coke from the bartender.

Ivar heard the drunk suggesting that he and Eve go someplace
quiet, and Eve said No, rather loudly.  The bartender, who should have been handling
the situation for her, thought she was a hooker and was ignoring the whole scene. 
Ivar didn't think she was a prostitute, but wondered why she didn't brush the man
off.  She must be very naive to be so obviously uncomfortable and do nothing about
it. 

Ivar tapped Eve on the shoulder to get her attention and
she shook his hand off irritably.  Ivar could see why.  The drunk had placed his
hand on her knee and was massaging it. 

Eve finished the drink in a gulp, feeling her eyes fill
with tears.  She put the ten dollars she had brought on the bar.  She wanted to
wave the bill in the air to get the bartender's attention.  It was altogether too
much, this sitting close in bars.  First there was one man with his hand rudely
moving up her leg, and now another one on the other side of her touching her shoulder. 
Even though Eve could not feel pain, or hot and cold, she could feel pressure. 
She did not like being, she thought for the right word and then had it, pawed.

"I don't think the lady wants you to do that," 
Ivar said, leaning forward to look around Eve.

"Howd inda hell doyou know,"  the drunk asked
belligerently.

"Because the lady came to see me,"  Ivar said. 
He gently maneuvered Eve's stool around and guided her off the seat.  Then he took
Eve's ten dollar bill off of the bar and handed it to her.  Ivar took out a ten
of his own and placed it on the bar.  He took her arm and they walked through the
restaurant and out to Sunset Boulevard.  Then he let go of her arm.

Eve noticed that she was shaking.  She supposed it was
an adrenalin response getting out of hand again.  She had wanted to bash the man
who had his hand on her leg and was repulsively moving it upward.  And then run. 
The fight or flight response.  No wonder she was shaking.  Excess adrenaline was
pumping through her body.

The man standing beside her had helped her leave, but she
didn't want him around her either.

"I can see you're very upset.  You should have popped
the drunk,"  Ivar said.

He must be reading her mind, Eve thought.  "I was
afraid I would hurt him." 

Ivar laughed, "I don't think so.  And I'm sorry you
were so uncomfortable.  Maybe I could walk you back to your car? I'll see you get
there safely."

"I walked." 

"I'll walk you home, then.  It's not safe to walk
alone in Hollywood."

Eve looked at the man.  She noticed he was quite tall and
could protect her from drunks, so she started walking.  The man positioned himself
on the outside of the sidewalk and did not touch her, but walked with her.  Eve
was getting Sabrina Thoughts about his attractiveness.  He had a broad face with
prominent cheek bones and very dark blue eyes.  There was a dimple in the middle
of his chin.  She searched for the right word and it was there instantly.  The man
had a cleft.  A very attractive face with the short blond hair.  His whiskers had
been shaved off recently and he was dressed very much like she was, in jeans and
a brown leather jacket.  Eve felt warm inside and wondered if the alcohol that she
had consumed so quickly was affecting her.

She could tell that the man was also looking at her and
he asked what she did for a living.  Eve borrowed some of Sabrina's history.  The
man told her his name and said that he was a private investigator.

Ivar looked closely at Eve but couldn't detect any scars
from recent surgery.  And her hair looked natural.  He could see the part at the
side of her head and it looked like real scalp.  He wished he could pull on the
hair to make sure it was not a wig and then laughed inwardly.  It was not something
he would ordinarily think of doing to such a pretty woman.  And she was beautiful
up close.  Even better looking than she had been when he had seen her through the
binoculars that morning.  Eve was so delicate she had an ethereal look, as though
she was so fragile she could only be touched very carefully and gently.  Ivar found
it amusing when she said she did not hit the drunk because she thought she might
hurt him.  Ivar couldn't imagine her hurting anyone. 

Except in the heart, Ivar thought.  In that she would be
lethal.

Ivar's dilemma was that he couldn't walk Eve back to the
apartment where she lived.  Malcolm was sitting in the car outside.  He would be
off the case. 

He thought that maybe he could ask her to come to his apartment,
then put her in a taxi from there, and be back in the car with his partner none
the wiser.  But would she go to a strange man's apartment? He didn't think so, but
they were getting close, so Ivar asked Eve if she would like to come to his place
for a drink uninterrupted by a drunk.  He was surprised when she said yes.

Ivar hoped Eve would like his apartment when he took her
inside.  He had large comfortable furniture, a real white bear skin rug on the floor,
and an authentic jute box in the corner of the living room lit up in neon colors. 
On the glass living room table he had an antique chess board.  He settled her on
the couch.

Ivar went into the kitchen and made a creme de menthe and
soda for Eve and got a Perrier for himself.  Then he sat down beside Eve.  He didn't
sit close to her, thinking that she would not like it after her experience with
the drunk, but he would have liked to.  He saw that Eve was looking intently at
the chess board and he asked her if she had ever played.  Ivar loved the game and
was an expert.  The board had a game in progress.  He had been playing one move
a day with a friend of his in Washington. 

"I have not played, but I know how to move the pieces
from having read about the game,"  Eve said.

"Would you like to try?" 

"What color is mine?" 

"Whichever you like." 

"But the white has won."

Ivar, who had been playing against his rival with the black
pieces, wanted to know why.  Eve described each move quickly.  When Ivar suggested
different moves, Eve countered.  She was very quick.  Ivar could tell that she had
thought ahead about ten moves from each of his objections, so he asked if she would
show him directly. 

Ivar watched Eve move the pieces.  She kept up an amusing
commentary.  She said, See you just move the little horse in the L pattern here,
this way.  Then move the littlest men this way.  And then you have the queen vulnerable
and the game is won.  Or, she said, if the black soldier is moved this way, like
you suggest, then you move the white little man over here, then you have the castle,
and again the queen is down.  See what I mean? Ivar did.  She had exhausted each
of his possible moves.  He was astonished that although Eve said she had never played
the game that she could plan strategies in her head.  He watched her move each piece
delicately, but with amazing swiftness, back to its original place.

Ivar asked Eve if she would like to play a real game of
chess.  Eve said yes, so he aligned the chessmen for a game.  She opened the game,
moving one pawn.  Ivar then countered with one of his own.  As they played he sometimes
sat and pondered a move.  Eve never hesitated for an instant.  She won three games.

As they played the games Eve sipped her drink and studied
the man.  She liked the fact that their heads were so close that her hair brushed
the side of his face several times and she noticed that she was trembling slightly. 
She also noticed that the man smelled good.  His breath was nice, not sour or disgusting
like the man in the bar, and she could discern the soap he had bathed with.  He
was not wearing perfume and she was glad because she did not like the smell of any
fragrance.  She had tried all of Sabrina's scents, thinking that she should learn
all the human trimmings, but they were too strong for her nostrils and made her
sneeze.