Defense for the Devil by Kate Wilhelm Read Free Book Online Page B

private business, a case I’ve taken on at Martin’s, but I’ve already used your office, and I have another favor to ask. I need to use the safe.”
    “Okay. So use it. You going to fill in more than that?”
    She told him about it. He whistled when she said $210,000.
    “And he didn’t bat an eye,” she said. “I’m convinced he thinks we’ve already gotten inside that suitcase, that we know what we’re talking about. But we don’t.”
    “Drug money? Drugs? Secret plans to take over the world?
    New and better Pentagon Papers? Maps to militia caches? Could be anything. Industrial spying, national security stuff… Corporate plans to conquer the stock market. It could be FBI or CIA business.” He shrugged. “Could even be what he claims it is, legitimate company business. You on contingency?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Okay. Wishful thinking. So you and Bailey will get the stuff to the office around five. I’ll drop in, check my mail, cheer up Patsy. She thinks I spend too much time somewhere else.” Patsy was his secretary.
    “Thanks,” she said. “I’ve got to run. Bank at four-thirty. Bailey said he and Sylvia would be there waiting.”
    “Sylvia? He’s bringing in Sylvia?” Frank laughed. “You’ll love her.”
    “You know her?”
    “Oh, Lord, yes. Sometime when you have an hour, I’ll tell you about Sylvia. Beat it now, or you’ll be late.”
     
    Get there at four-thirty, Bailey had said, and go to the safe-deposit boxes. She did that, and her bank escort used her key to open the box, then watched as Barbara inserted hers and turned it. The door swung open; the escort withdrew and pulled the vault door closed behind her. Barbara brought out the suitcase, the briefcase, and duffel bag, shut the drawer, and rang the bell for her escort. She had forgotten how heavy the briefcase was.
    “I’m ready,” she said.
    Her escort was careful not to glance at the things Barbara had, but they both turned to look toward an open door outside the safe-deposit area, where a woman was saying in a quarrelsome way, “I told you I wanted to put the earrings in there. Why didn’t you watch?” Another escort was standing at the door, gazing fixedly at her shoes, as if this has been going on for a while. “Now I have to get back in.” The door swung open all the way, and a man pushed a wheelchair out of a small private room. Barbara blinked. Bailey, in a black suit and tie. The woman was grotesque, orange hair frizzy about her face, big dangling earrings that looked like emeralds, a long multicolored skirt, and a garish red filmy top; one leg was in a cast. She looked to be seventy or older.
    “Barbara! Barbara Holloway! You remember me! Sylvia Fenton, we met at some silly luncheon. My dear, you look wonderful” Bailey gazed at the ceiling with a wooden expression; both escorts looked at the floor.
    “How are you?” Barbara said, feeling inordinately stupid. The old woman had a broken leg, that’s how she was.
    “Not too bad, considering. My dear child, you surely don’t intend to carry all that by yourself, do you? Ridiculous! Ralph, help her.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t impose,” Barbara said hurriedly.
    “We’ll deliver it wherever you say,” the old woman said. “Ralph, put it in the office here, while I go get rid of those earrings. Miss,” she said to her escort, “I’m afraid we have to open the door again. If it’s not too much bother. Ralph, where’s my key? Put this bag somewhere and help me with my crutches. If you’d been paying attention, we wouldn’t be having all this fuss.”
    Bailey took a large paisley print bag from her, carried it back inside the office, and came out with crutches. They all watched anxiously as she got up and supported herself on the crutches. “Put that damn chair back in the office and stay with my bag,” she told Bailey. Then she said to Barbara, “Just tell him where you want the stuff delivered, dear. I won’t be a minute, then we’ll drop it off