He had not heard her words.
“Because I turned them off. I came in here, got my purse, used some
lipstick, and went back into your room. There’s a switch by the door. I
used it.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You were upset at the time. I gather my room isn’t the center of
attention yours is.” Alison walked in and closed the corridor door.
pop— “No, it’s not, but keep your voice low. Can those god damn
things listen through doors and walls?” take her suit,No, I don’t think
so.” She watched him cases from the bed and carry them across the room.
He stood by the closet, looking for a luggage rack, There was none.
“Aren’t you being a little obvious?”
“What?”
“What are you doing with my bags? I haven’t unpacked.”
“Oh.” McAuliff could feel the flush on his face. He felt like a goddamn
idiot. -I’m sorry. I suppose you could say I’m compulsively neat.”
“Or just compulsive.”
He carried the bags back to the bed and turned to look at her, the
suitcases still in his hands. He was so terribly tired. “It’s been a
rotten day … a very confusing day,” he said. “The fact that it’s not
over yet is discouraging as hell; there’s still Whitehall to go…. And
in the next room, if I snore or talk in my sleep or go to the bathroom
with the door open, everything is recorded somewhere on a tape. I can
say it doesn’t bother me, but it doesn’t make me feel any better,
either. I’ll tell you something else, too, while I’m rambling. You are
a lovely, lovely girl, and you’re right, I’m compulsive … for
example, at this moment I have the strongest compulsion to hold you and
kiss you and feel your arms around me, and … you are so goddamn
desirable …
and you have such a beautiful smile and laugh… and all I want to do
is hold you and forget everything else…. Now I ‘M finished rambling,
and you can tell me to go to hell because I’m not relevant.” Alison
Booth stood silently, looking at McAuliff for what seemed to him far too
long. Then she walked slowly, deliberately, to him.
“Do you know how silly you look holding those suitcases?” she whispered
as she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
He dropped the bags; the noise of their contact with the floor made them
both smile. He pulled her to him and the comfort was splendid, the
warm, growing excitement a special thing. And as he kissed her, their
mouths moistly exploring, pressing, widening, he realized Alison was
trembling, gripping him with a strength that was more than a desire to
be taken. Yet it was not fear; there was no hesitancy, no holding back,
only anxiety.
He lowered her gently to the bed; as he did so, she unbuttoned the silk
blouse and guided his hands to her breasts.
She closed her eyes as he caressed her and whispered.
“It’s been a terribly long time, Alex. Do you think Whitehall could
wait a while longer? You see, I don’t think I can.”
They lay beside each other, naked, under the soft covers.
She rose on her elbow, her hair falling over her face, and looking at
him. She traced his lips with her fingers and bent down, kissing him,
outlining his lips now with her tongue.
“I’m absolutely shameless,” she said, laughing softly. “I want to make
love to you all night long. And most of the day … I’m parched and
I’ve been to the well and I want to stay here.”
He reached up and let her hair fall through his fingers. He followed
the strands downward to the swell of her body and cupped her left
breast. “We’ll take the minimum time out for food and sleep.”
There was the faint ring of a telephone. It came from the direction of
the connecting door. From his room.
“You’re late for Charles Whitehall,” said Alison. “You’d better go
answer it.”
“Our goddamn Sir NoO.” He climbed out of the bed, walked rapidly to the
door, opened it, and went into the room. As he picked up the telephone,
he looked at the drawn curtains of his balcony doors; he was grateful
for Alison’s experience. Except for his socks-why his socks?-he was
naked.
“I said twenty minutes, Mr. McAuliff. It’s nearly an hour.”
Whitehall’s voice was quietly furious.
“I’m sorry. I told you ‘thereabouts.” For me, an hour is ‘thereabouts.”
Especially when someone gives me orders at this time of night and he’s
not bleeding.”
“Let’s not argue. Will you be here soon?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes.” Alex hung up the telephone a bit his suitcase.
harder than was necessary and looked over at Whoever was on the other
end of that line knew he was going out of the room to meet someone who
had tried to issue him orders at three o’clock in the morning. He would
think about it later.
“Do you know how positively handsome you are? All over , said Alison as
he came back into the room “You’re right, you’re shameless.”
looks peculiar, do you have your knee socks on? It liar.” She sat up,
pulling the sheet over her breasts, and reached for the cigarettes on
the night table.
“Light me one, will you please? I’ve got to get dressed.”
McAuliff looked around the bed for the clothing he had removed in such
haste a half hour ago.
“Was he upset?” She handed him a cigarette as he pulled on his trousers
and picked up his shirt from the floor.
“He was upset. He’s also an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“I think Charles Whitehall wants to strike back at someone or
something,” said Alison, watching him absently.
“He’s angry.”
“Maybe it’s recognition. Not granted to the extent he thinks it should
be.” McAuliff buttoned his shirt.
“Perhaps. That would account for his dismissing the compliments.”
“The what?” he asked.
“His little entertainment downstairs tonight was frighteningly thought
out. It wasn’t prepared for a nightclub. It was created for Covent
Garden. Or the grand hall of the United Nations.”
He tapped gently on Whitehall s door, and when it opened, McAuliff found
the Jamaican dressed in an embroidered Japanese hopi coat. Beneath the
flowery garment, Whitehall wore his pinstriped trousers and velvet
slippers.
“Come in, please. This time you’re early. It’s not yet fifteen
minutes.”
“You’re obsessed with time. It’s after three in the morning; I’d rather
not look at my watch.” Alex closed the door behind him. “I hope you
have something important to tell me. Because if you don’t, I’m going to
be damned angry.
Whitehall had crossed to the bureau; he picked up a folded piece of
paper from the top and indicated a chair for McAuliff. “Sit down,
please. 1, too, am quite exhausted, but we must talk.”
Alex walked to the armchair and sat down. “Go ahead.”
“I think it’s time we had an understanding. It will in no way affect my
contributions to the survey.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. I didn’t hire you to entertain the troops
downstairs.”
“A dividend,” said Whitehall coldly. “Don’t knock it; I’m very good.”
“I know you are. What else is new?”
The scholar tapped the paper in his hands. “There’ll be periods when it
will be necessary for me to be absent. Never more than a day or two at
a time. Naturally, I’ll give you advance notice, and if there are
problems-where possible I shall rearrange my schedule.”
“You’ll what?” McAuliff sat forward in the chair.
Where … Possible … you’ll fit your time to mine? That’s goddamn
nice of you. I hope the survey won’t be a burden.”
Whitehall laughed, impersonally. “Not at all. It was just what I was
looking for. And you’ll see, you’ll be quite pleased … although I’m
not sure why I should be terribly concerned. You see, I cannot accept
the stated reasons for this survey. And I suspect there are one or two
others, if they spoke their thoughts, who share my doubts.”
“Are you suggesting that I hired you under false pretenses?”
“Oh, come now,” replied the black scholar, his eyes narrowing in
irritation. “Alexander McAuliff, a highly confidential, one-man survey
company whose work takes him throughout the world … for very large
fees, abruptly decides to become academically charitable? To take from
four to six months away from a lucrative practice to head up a
university survey?” Whitehall laughed like a nervous jackal, walked
rapidly to the curtains of the room’s balcony doors, and flipped one
side partially open. He twisted the latch and pulled the glass panel
several inches inward; the curtain billowed in the night breeze.
“You don’t know the specifics of my contract,” said Alex noncommittally
I know what universities and royal societies and ministries of education
pay. It’s not your league, McAuliff.” The Jamaican returned to the bed
and sat down on the edge.