Catherine stood there numb, and it was not until some small boys came running up to her that she realized the grocery bags had slipped from her nerveless fingers. They had helped Catherine pick up everything and she had stumbled home, her mind refusing to think. She had tried to tell herself that it had not been Larry she had seen in the taxi, it had been someone who resembled him. But the truth was that no one in the world resembled Larry. He was unique, an original work of God, a priceless creation of nature. And he was all hers. Hers and the brunette's in the taxi, and how many others?
Catherine sat up all that night waiting for Larry to walk in, and when he did not come home, she knew that there was no excuse that he could give her that could hold their marriage together, and no excuse that she could give herself. He was a liar and a cheat, and she could not stay married to him any longer.
Larry did not return home until late the following afternoon.
"Hi," he said cheerfully, as he walked into the apartment. He put down his flight bag and saw her face. "What's wrong?"
"When did you get back to town?" Catherine asked stiffly.
Larry looked at her, puzzled. "About an hour ago. Why?"
"I saw you in a taxi yesterday with a girl." It was as simple as that, Catherine thought. Those are the words that ended my marriage. He's going to deny it, and I'm going to call him a liar and leave him and never see him again."
Larry was standing there staring at her.
"Go ahead," she said. "Tell me it wasn't you."
Larry looked at her, nodding. "Of course it was me." The sudden sharp pain Catherine felt at the pit of her stomach made her realize how much she had wanted him to deny it.
"Christ," he said, "what have you been thinking?"
She started to speak and her voice trembled with anger. "I--"
Larry held up a hand. "Don't say anything you'll be sorry for."
Catherine looked at him incredulously. "I'll be sorry for?"
"I flew back to Athens yesterday for fifteen minutes to pick up a girl named Helena Merelis to fly her to Crete for Demiris. Helena works for him as a stewardess."
"But..." It was possible. Larry could have been telling the truth; or was it polymechanos, fertile in devices? "Why didn't you telephone me?" Catherine asked.
"I did," Larry said curtly. "There was no answer. You were out, weren't you?"
Catherine swallowed. "I--I went out shopping for your dinner."
"I'm not hungry," Larry snapped. "Nagging always makes me lose my appetite." He turned and walked out the door, leaving Catherine standing there, her right hand still raised, as though it was silently beseeching him to come back.
It was shortly after that that Catherine began to drink. It started in a small, harmless way. She would be expecting Larry home for dinner at seven o'clock, and when nine o'clock came and he had not called, Catherine would have a brandy to help kill the time. By ten o'clock, she would have had several brandies, and by the time he came home, if he did, the dinner would have been long since ruined, and she would be a little tight. It made it much easier to face what was happening to her life.
Catherine could no longer hide from herself the fact that Larry was cheating on her and had probably been cheating from the time they were married. Going through his uniform trousers one day before sending them to the cleaners, she found a lace handkerchief with dried semen. There was lipstick on his shorts.
She thought of Larry in the arms of some other woman.
And she wanted to kill him.
NOELLE AND CATHERINE
Athens: 1946
17
As Time had become Catherine's enemy, so it had become Larry's friend. The night in Amsterdam had been nothing less than a miracle. Larry had courted disaster and in so doing had, incredibly, found the solution to all his problems. It's the Douglas luck, he thought with satisfaction.
But he knew that it was more than luck. It was some obscure, perverse instinct in him that needed to challenge the Fates, to brush against the parameters of death and destruction, a testing, a pitting of himself against Fortune for life-and-death stakes.
Larry remembered a morning over the Truk Islands when a squadron of Zeros had zoomed out of a cloud cover. He had been flying point, and they had concentrated their attack on him. Three Zeros had maneuvered him away from the rest of the squadron and opened fire on him. In a kind of supraclarity that came to him in moments of danger, he was blindingly aware of the island below, the dozens of ships bobbing on the rolling seas, the roaring planes slashing at each other in the bright blue sky. It was one of the happiest moments of Larry's life, the fulfillment of Life and the mocking of Death.
He had put the plane into a spin and had pulled out of it on the tail of one of the Zeros. He had watched it explode as he opened up with his machine guns. The other two planes had closed in on either side. Larry watched them as they raced down to him, and at the last instant he pulled the plane into an Immelmann, and the two Japanese planes collided in mid-air. It was a moment Larry savored in his mind often.
For some reason it had come back to him that night in Amsterdam. He had made wild, violent love to Noelle, and afterward she had lain in his arms, talking of the two of them in Paris together before the war, and it suddenly brought back a dim memory of an eager young girl, but good God, there had been hundreds of eager young girls since then, and Noelle was no more than an elusive, half-recalled wisp of memory in his past.
How lucky it was, Larry thought, that their paths had crossed again accidentally, after all these years.
"You belong to me," Noelle said. "You're mine now."
Something in her tone made Larry uneasy. And yet, he asked himself, what do I have to lose?
With Noelle under his control, he could stay on with Demiris forever, if he wanted to.
She was studying him as though reading his mind, and there was an odd expression in her eyes that Larry did not understand.
It was just as well.
On a return trip from Morocco Larry took Helena out to dinner and spent the night at her apartment.
In the morning he drove to the airport to check out his plane. He had lunch with Paul Metaxas.
"You look like you hit the jackpot," Metaxas said. "Can you spare a piece for me?"
"My boy," Larry grinned, "you couldn't handle them. It takes a master."
They had a pleasant lunch and then Larry drove back into town to pick up Helena, who was to be on his flight.
He knocked at the door of her apartment and after a long while, Helena slowly opened it. She was naked. Larry stared at her, not recognizing her. Her face and body were a mass of ugly bruises and puffy swellings. Her eyes were slits of pain. She had been beaten up by a professional.
"Christ!" Larry exclaimed. "What happened?"
Helena opened her mouth and Larry saw that three of her upper front teeth had been knocked out. "T--two men," she chattered. "They came in as soon as you 1--left."
"Didn't you call the police?" Larry demanded, horrified.
"Th--they said they would kill me if I told anyone. They meant it, L--Larry." She stood there in shock, holding onto the door for support.
"Did they rob you?"
"N--no. They f--forced their way in and raped me and then they--they beat me up."
"Get some clothes on," he ordered. "I'm taking you to the hospital."
"I can't g--go out with my face like this," she said.
And of course she was right. Larry telephoned a doctor who was a friend of his and arranged for him to come over.
"I'm sorry I can't stay," Larry told Helena. "I have to fly Demiris out in half an hour. I'll see you as soon as I return."
But he never saw her again. When Larry returned two days later, the apartment was empty, and the landlady told him that the young lady had moved and had left no forwarding address. Even then Larry had no suspicion of the truth. It was not until several nights later when he was making love to Noelle that he had an inkling of what had happened. "You're s
o goddamn fantastic," he said. "I've never known anybody like you."
"Do I give you everything you want?" she asked.
"Yes," he moaned, "Oh, Christ, yes."
Noelle stopped what she was doing. "Then don't ever sleep with another woman," she said softly. "Next time, I'll kill her."
Larry remembered her words: You belong to me. And they suddenly took on a new and ominous meaning. For the first time he had the premonition that this was not some fly-by-night affair that he could get out of anytime he felt like it. He sensed the cold, deadly, untouchable center that was in Noelle Page, and he was chilled and a little frightened by it. Half a dozen times during the night he started to bring up the subject of Helena, and each time he stopped because he was afraid to know, afraid to have it put into words, as though the words had more power than the deed itself. If Noelle were capable of that...
At breakfast the next morning Larry studied Noelle when she was unaware of it, looking for signs of cruelty, of sadism, but all he saw was a loving, beautiful woman, telling him amusing anecdotes, anticipating and catering to his every want. I have to be wrong about her, he thought. But after that he was careful not to date any other girls, and in a few short weeks he had lost all desire to do so because Noelle had become a complete obsession with him.
From the beginning Noelle warned Larry that it was essential that they keep their affair from Constantin Demiris.
"There must never be the slightest whisper of suspicion about us," Noelle cautioned.
"Why don't I rent an apartment?" Larry suggested. "A place where we..."
Noelle shook her head. "Not in Athens. Someone would recognize me. Let me think about it."
Two days later Demiris sent for Larry. At first Larry was apprehensive, wondering whether the Greek tycoon could have heard about Noelle and him, but Demiris greeted him pleasantly and led him into a discussion of a new plane he was considering buying.
"It's a converted Mitchell Bomber," Demiris told him. "I want you to have a look at it."
Larry's face lit up. "It's a great plane," he said. "For its weight and size, it will give you the best ride you can buy."
"How many passengers will it carry?"
Larry thought a moment. "Nine in luxury, plus a pilot, navigator and flight engineer. It flies at four hundred eighty miles an hour."
"It sounds interesting. Will you check it out for me and give me a report?"
"I can't wait," Larry grinned.
Demiris rose to his feet. "By the way Douglas, Miss Page is going to Berlin in the morning. I want you to fly her there."
"Yes, sir," Larry said. And then added, innocently, "Did Miss Page tell you that we're getting along better?"
Demiris looked up at him. "No," he said, puzzled. "As a matter of fact this morning she complained to me about your insolence."
Larry stared at him in surprise, and then as realization flooded through him, he quickly tried to cover up his blunder. "I'm trying, Mr. Demiris," he said earnestly. "I'll try harder."
Demiris nodded. "Do that. You're the best pilot I've ever had, Douglas. It would be a shame to..." He let his voice trail off, but the message was clear.
On the drive home Larry cursed himself for a fool. He had better remember he was playing in the big leagues now. Noelle had been bright enough to realize that any sudden change in her attitude toward Larry would make Demiris suspicious. The old relationship between them was a perfect cover for what they were doing. Demiris was trying to bring them together. The thought made Larry laugh aloud. It was a good feeling to know that he had something that one of the most powerful men in the world thought belonged to him.
On the flight to Berlin Larry turned the wheel over to Paul Metaxas and told him that he was going back to talk to Noelle Page.
"Aren't you afraid of getting your head bitten off?" Metaxas asked.
Larry hesitated, tempted to brag. But he conquered the impulse. "She's a bitch on wheels," Larry shrugged, "but if I don't find some way to soften her up, I could find myself out on my ass."
"Good luck," Metaxas said soberly.
"Thanks."
Larry carefully closed the cockpit door and went back to the lounge where Noelle was seated. The two stewardesses were at the rear of the plane. Larry started to sit down across from Noelle.
"Be careful," she warned softly. "Everyone who works for Constantin reports back to him."
Larry glanced toward the stewardesses and thought of Helena.
"I've found a place for us," Noelle said. There was pleasure and excitement in her voice.
"An apartment?"
"A house. Do you know where Rafina is?"
Larry shook his head. "No."
"It's a little village on the sea, a hundred kilometers north of Athens. We have a secluded villa there."
He nodded. "Whose name did you rent it in?"
"I bought it," Noelle said, "in someone else's name."
Larry wondered what it must feel like to be able to afford to buy a villa just to get in the hay with someone once in a while. "Great," he said. "I can't wait to see it."
She studied him a moment. "Will you have any trouble getting away from Catherine?"
Larry looked at Noelle in surprise. It was the first time she had ever mentioned his wife. He had certainly made no secret of his marriage, but it was a strange feeling to hear Noelle use Catherine's name. Obviously she had done some checking, and knowing her as well as he was beginning to, it was probably very thorough. She was waiting for an answer. "No," Larry replied. "I come and go as I please."
Noelle nodded, satisfied. "Good. Constantin is going on a business cruise to Dubrovnik. I've told him I can't go with him. We'll have ten lovely days together. You'd better go now."
Larry turned and walked back to the cockpit.
"How did it go?" Metaxas asked. "Loosen her up any?"
"Not much," Larry replied, carefully. "It's going to take time."
Larry owned a car, a Citroen convertible, but at Noelle's insistence, he went to a small rent-a-car agency in Athens and hired an automobile. Noelle had driven up to Rafina alone and Larry was to join her there. The drive was a pleasant one on a winding ribbon of dusty road high above the sea. Two and a half hours out of Athens Larry came to a tiny, charming village nestled along the coastline. Noelle had given him careful directions so that he would not have to stop and inquire at the village. As he reached the outskirts of the village, he turned to the left and drove down a small dirt road that led to the sea. There were several villas, each one secluded behind high stone walls. At the end of the road built on an outcropping of rock on a promontory that jutted out over the water was a large, luxurious-looking villa.
Larry drove up to the gate and rang the bell. A moment later the electric gate swung open. He drove inside and the gate closed behind him. He found himself in a large courtyard with a fountain in the center. The sides of the courtyard were filled with a profusion of flowers. The house itself was a typical Mediterranean villa, as impregnable as a fortress. The front door opened and Noelle appeared, wearing a white cotton dress. They stood there smiling at each other, and then she was in his arms.
"Come and see your new house," she said eagerly, and she took him inside.
The interior of the house was cavernous, large spacious rooms with high domed ceilings. There was an enormous living room downstairs, a library, a formal dining room and an old-fashioned kitchen with a circular cooking range in the center. The bedrooms were upstairs.
"What about the servants?" Larry asked.
"You're looking at them."
Larry regarded her in surprise. "You're going to do the cooking and cleaning?"
She nodded. "There will be a couple coming in to clean after we leave here, but they will never see us. I arranged it through an agency."
Larry grinned sardonically.
There was a warning note in Noelle's voice. "Don't ever make the mistake of underestimating Constantin Demiris. If he finds out about us, he will kill both of
us."
Larry smiled. "You're exaggerating," he said. "The old man may not like it, but..."
Her violet eyes locked on his. "He will kill us both." There was something in her voice that sent a feeling of apprehension through him.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"I was never more serious in my life. He's ruthless."
"But when you say he'll kill us," Larry protested, "he wouldn't..."
"He won't use bullets," Noelle said flatly. "He'll find a complicated, ingenious way to do it, and he'll never be punished for it." Her tone lightened. "But he won't find out, darling. Come, let me show you our bedroom." She took his hand and they went up the sweeping stairway. "We have four guest bedrooms," she said and added with a smile, "we can try them all." She took him into the master bedroom, a huge corner suite that overlooked the sea. From the window Larry could see a large terrace and the short path that wound down to the water. There was a dock with a large sailboat and a motor boat moored to it.
"Who do the boats belong to?"
"You," she said. "It's your welcome-home present."
He turned to her and found that she had slipped out of her cotton dress. She was naked. They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed.
The next ten days flew by. Noelle was quicksilver, a nymph, a genie, a dozen beautiful servants catering to Larry's every wish before he even knew what he wanted. He found the library in the villa stocked with his favorite books and records. Noelle cooked all his favorite dishes to perfection, sailed with him, swam in the warm blue sea with him, made love to him, gave him massages at night until he fell asleep. In a sense they were prisoners there together, for they dared not see anyone else. Every day Larry found new facets in Noelle. She entertained him with fascinating anecdotes about famous people she knew. She tried to discuss business and politics with him until she found that he was interested in neither.