Part 28 (1/2)

The Warwick bar was almost empty by the time Ed finished telling Kara of his evening's exploits. He searched her face for some sign of approval. It was slow coming, but finally a warm smile lit her features.

”You did all that for me?”

”Well, yes. I felt I owed it to you... and Kelly.”

”But what if you'd been caught?”

”That's a risk I was willing to take. You've got to be ready to take a few risks or else life isn't worth much.”

Ed drained his third double vodka. He was feeling pretty good. d.a.m.n good-about the night, about himself, about being here in this almost deserted bar with Kara.

”What do you think I should do, Ed? I'm so confused.”

He looked at her. She was beautiful. In the dim light, despite the jeans and loose sweater she was wearing, she reminded him more of her sister than ever. But she was obviously tense. She sat across the tiny circular table, nervously twirling a key ring on her index finger. And she was asking him for advice. He tried to organize his vodka-muddled thoughts.

”As I see it, you've got two choices. You can get out of the city and put as much distance as you can between this guy and yourself.” For selfish reasons, Ed didn't like that idea. It meant he wouldn't get to see her anymore. ”Or... you could take the bull by the horns and go to the State Board of Medical Examiners and demand a complete investigation of this man's record keeping and practice methods.”

She was staring at him with those big blue eyes. They were hypnotizing.

”What do you you think I should do?” think I should do?”

”I think you've got the courage and integrity to take this to the State and protect others as well as yourself. That's what I think you should do.”

She put her hand on his and squeezed as the last call came from the bar.

”Thanks for your confidence, but I'm still not sure. Is there someplace we can talk about this some more?”

”There's my place.” The words just popped out, but Ed was glad they did. ”We can talk there as long as you want.”

”That sounds perfect. Let's go.”

With that she was up and heading toward the door. With an excited, antic.i.p.atory tingle in his groin, Ed dropped some money on the table and hurried after her.

Rob had stopped off at Midtown North, grabbed the effects bag from Doyle, and run out. As he raced east to First Avenue and then uptown, he shook Kelly's apartment keys free of the tangle within and had them ready when he slammed to a halt in front of her building.

Out of instinctive courtesy, he rapped on the door and waited a couple of seconds before unlocking it and rus.h.i.+ng inside. Main room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom-all empty. No sign of struggle, just empty.

Where the h.e.l.l could Kara be?

A chilling thought struck him: What if it wasn't Kara out there roaming the city? What if it was Janine?

Or worse yet: What if this Ed Bannion character was some sort of head case who had lured her someplace tonight with the intent of seeing that she ended up like her sifter?

Rob had to find Bannion. But how? He had his office number but no one would answer at this hour. And the morning might be too late.

Rob grabbed Kelly's Manhattan white pages thumbed them open to the B's B's. He found Bannion Bannion. There was a truckload of them. Limiting himself to the E E or or Edward Edward Bannions narrowed it down some, but there were still plenty. narrowed it down some, but there were still plenty.

He sat down by the phone and began calling.

As you inspect Ed Bannion's Upper West Side apartment through Kara's eyes, you think of how the night has been little more than a series of shocks, one after the other.

The first shock was the early morning phone call at Kara's apartment from someone called Ed who said he had startling information about Dr. Gates. That simple statement forced you to cancel all your plans for returning to the Helmsley tonight. You've been playing the rest by ear.

The second shock came when you recognized Ed Bannion as one of the brothers from the Plaza the night Kelly went through the window. Ed was the one on his knees behind you at the end, doing you from the rear. The one who bit you.

You masked your surprise then, but you nearly gave yourself away when Ed Bannion dropped the bombsh.e.l.l: that your office had been invaded, your computer security breached, and that you had walked right past the culprit less than an hour ago without suspecting a thing.

You wander the bleached hardwood floors of Bannion's apartment while the owner uses the bathroom. You inspect the gla.s.s and chrome tables, the Italian leather sectional. The man has no taste. There's no theme, no harmony, no personality to the decor. These are just things things he's bought. They have no meaning to him beyond the fact that they are considered the right things to have. It's as if he furnished the place with random snippets from the ”Home” section of the Thursday he's bought. They have no meaning to him beyond the fact that they are considered the right things to have. It's as if he furnished the place with random snippets from the ”Home” section of the Thursday Times, An empty man living an empty life in an apartment filled with things things, whose only pa.s.sion has been the job which obviously bores him to tears now. Else why would he have tried the hair-brained stunt of breaking and entering tonight?

Taking over Kara Wade has engendered a Gordian knot of complications, but you aren't ready to surrender this wonderful body yet. You eye a set of carving knives jutting from a block of teak on the kitchen counter. Alexander the Great's abrupt and efficient method for unsnarling stubborn knots comes to mind.

You examine the knives, and choose the one with the longest, thinnest blade, then hurry into the bedroom and shove it under the bed. You're standing by the picture window when Bannion returns. He sways slightly as he crosses to the bar and begins to make himself another drink.

”Do you really think you should have another, Ed?” you say, kicking off Kara's shoes and moving languidly across the room.

You're thinking that if Bannion doesn't get too drunk, you might yet salvage something out of this night.

”I'm celebrating.”

Gently, you take the bottle from Bannion's hands and put Kara's arms around him.

”You don't need to get drunk to celebrate. As a matter of fact, that could interfere with the kind of celebration I have planned.”

You watch a flush creep up Bannion's cheeks.

”Wh-what kind of celebration is that?”

”The kind of celebration that happens when a very grateful girl is alone with a brave man she admires very much and finds very attractive.”

”This isn't necessary.”

”Yes it is.”

You back up a step and pull off the sweater to reveal Kara's b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

”Do you like them? Touch them.”

Bannion's mouth is hanging open as he stares at you. He seems paralyzed. So you lift his hands and place them on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

”That feels good, Ed. Rub them.”

Bannion is getting into it now. Kara's jeans are the next to go. They're loose and fall to the floor when they're unb.u.t.toned. You step back again and spread your arms.

”What do you think of this body, Ed? Isn't it glorious?”